It was near midnight when Leyla returned her apartment. Her uncle and aunt insisted her staying since Grandpa was also abroad, but she refused simply saying she had to take care of some paperwork in order to leave school in time. It was obviously a lie but they were too happy to realize it.
She told them her affairs with Fatih and she might leave teaching and continue studying at university. Aunty started crying so terribly that she couldn't figure out if they were tears of sorrow or joy. She just told them she had now a boyfriend and she might get married, but they pretended as if not hearing her prospective marriage and talked about how her parents would be proud if they were alive, which subject she would choose for her doctorate thesis etc.
Their expectations suffocated her. Not only their expectations, all kinds of expectations felt exhausting in this period of her life. Both of her parents were university professors. Her father was a professor of physics, and her mother was a professor of English literature. When she was a little kid, both of them taught her their respectful studies. She was their little genius, and she might be considered a little genius. Her mother wanted her to study in western languages, her father wanted her to study natural sciences. They would quarrel about her focus of studies should be science or humanities. Her mother once joked that she should choose a different course to study if she cared about the permanency of their marriage.
Death of her parents was the first blow she faced in her life. Her mother's sister was married to a wealthy businessman. She had a son a year older than Leyla and their relationship was very good. After settling the funeral and everything else, she took her in. Uncle and aunt treated her preciously. They wanted her to become a university professor like her parents. Grandpa once mentioned she should study in the field of economics and enter the family business after school but his offer was rejected simply for this reason. She was very good at science, but she chose studying Turkish literature surprisingly. After graduation she took courses for a teaching licence, again, against expectations. Her uncle and aunt thought that Grandpa pulled some strings and prevented her studies, but that wasn't the case. Leyla assured them that this was her choice, but they felt extremely guilty about this and their relationship with Grandpa turned sour. Grandpa never explained himself since they wouldn't believe.
Leyla didn't turn on the lights. She sat in the dark, looking out of the window. She didn't know how to dissipate the guilt that family of three felt for her. Maybe, their relationship meant to be awkward. It was the truth that at first, she lamented her fate. But now she was a thirty two year old adult. There was no use to blame her death parents or her legal guardians for the things she can now change. They thought her as a good person, a good person who doesn't seek justice, who doesn't want anything from them and live silently. But she wasn't a good person, she was just too lazy to become a villain. Her laziness was misunderstood by them as goodness, as self-sacrifice.
Her intention of marriage was also because of this laziness. She was exhausted, and just wanted to do nothing. She wanted to become a full-time housewife and enjoy her life by reading books and doing household chores. She didn't believe that she had the capacity of loving someone, and she didn't want to take advantage of someone's goodwill and love for her selfish needs. She once mentioned this to her sister-in-law, and not long after Emir's phone call arrived.
She hanged up on Emir because they had no way of understanding each other, and learnt details through her sister-in-love. She was never interested in gossip news, so she needed to google Fatih Kayman. As a man of thirty nine, and having a five year old kid, she thought him as a middle aged uncle; but he turned out to look like the king of Spain! He was even more refined than Felipe. He was very tall and sturdy with tanned skin. Stubble with a touch of gray, piercing green eyes, thin lips... She looked every image of him she could find. Him with some models, him with some other business people, him with his family and friends, him with his daughter, him with his late wife...
Sure enough, he was out of her league. She should totally be a simpleton to believe he would want to be with her. She looked at a picture of him, holding the hand of his late wife in her death bed. She acknowledged that he had neither love nor sympathy for the woman holding hands with him. She saw a fellow spirit in him, as if he was a more ambitious version of herself. She felt that maybe it wouldn't be that exhausting to be with him since he wouldn't expect anything from her. That's how she decided to give it a try.
It wasn't the first time she would meet a rich and handsome guy, but it was the first time she would have a date with one. She wanted to make an impression on him. She tried dresses, and found all of them so 'teacherly' and sat down in front of the mirror naked. She remembered the miserable attempt of making an impression at the end of The Rented Mansion*. Poor guy, in order to make an impression on Seniha, forgot to read the room and told the story of Hakkı Celis's gruesome death. Yet, Seniha was only coquettish and beautiful. Yes, it was the universal truth of life. Your attempts of making it will fail miserably if the other party never cares.
She looked at the mirror. She would be a fool if she took this marriage game seriously. She should face her reality. Other party would never care whatever she says or wears. She looked at the teacher outfits around her, the romantic dresses hanged behind the door for special occasions. She looked at the mirror again, and decided to be herself for this once. She pulled a hoodie and some leggings, and instead of making an impression, chose to do whatever she wanted.
Leyla patted her belly. It was a good decision to wear these, she thought. Just as she expected, her being out of place didn't bother him. She over-estimated him because of the stories she read online and because of his looks, but he was a simpleton. She laughed at her thoughts of him being a fellow spirit. He was just a fool, high on his horse. She never liked tricking the ones with lesser understanding, but - as she said Emir previously - she stopped pitying the rich long ago.