**While I was being tossed around in the midst of a storm, I felt the thrill and joy of finding a branch to hold onto. As my life, like a swamp, was pulling me to the very bottom, I never expected a hand to come and save me, but it did. Looking at my reflection in the mirror, I saw an emotion I hadn't seen on my face in a long time. My pupils sparkled, my lips curled upward in defiance of gravity, and the dark circles under my eyes caused by exhaustion had almost disappeared. I held the flowing skirt of the white dress I wore, unable to suppress the childlike glee inside me as I twirled it around. Frankly, I didn't want to suppress it. The silk sleeves of my dress fell lightly to my wrists, feather-like. I had chosen this dress with care; today, I wanted to be as pure as white, in defiance of all the gray in my life. I felt like a clean, fresh page.
When I told Furkan that I wanted us to be married, he was surprised but happy since he wanted it too. The next day, we spoke with Elif and asked her to arrange for an imam. The village imam, who was a friend of my grandfather's, accepted. From tonight onward, there would be no obstacles separating us. I would belong completely to him. The thought alone gave me shivers of excitement. Later, I went to the town center to buy a dress. Everything was going as it should. When I told Büşra about it, she rushed over, unwilling to leave me alone.
I turned toward the door when I heard a knock, my dress's train gliding along with me.
"Come in."
Esma and Büşra entered, their eyes lighting up as they saw me, their admiration making me blush.
"Is it too much? I mean, it's just an imam marriage."
Büşra approached and grabbed my hand, lifting it to make me twirl. As I spun, she let out a whistle.
"Merve, you look stunning, just like a swan!"
I held my skirt's edge, bent my knees slightly, and gave a little bow.
"Thank you, madam. It's your kind gaze," I replied, giggling. Then Esma spoke.
"You truly look breathtaking. Maşallah!"
My cheeks turned red from embarrassment. Compliments always had that effect on me.
"Stop it, you're making me shy. I wonder if Furkan will like it, too."
They both rolled their eyes and sat on the bed. Büşra had chosen a black dress with a puffed skirt that ended at her knees, her fiery red hair standing out against it like flames. Esma, as usual, wore her abaya and black headscarf. Despite her simple attire, her beautiful face made her stand out.
"He's been smitten with you for a long time now, dear. What you wear doesn't matter."
Büşra sprawled comfortably on the bed with a playful grin, and Esma joined her with a feigned cough. They seemed determined to tease me.
When Esma placed a bag carelessly on the bed, I noticed she'd brought something. Seeing the curiosity in my eyes, she felt the need to explain.
"I brought this for you, for the marriage. You might want to wear it."
She seemed hesitant, her shy demeanor piquing my curiosity, but I didn't press her. Before I could respond, she left the room. Intrigued, I reached for the bag and saw a piece of white fabric without pulling it out. I knew what it was. Feeling as though I were holding fire, I tossed the bag onto the bed.
"Büşra, I can't… I just can't!"
Concerned by the panic on my face, Büşra opened the bag and took out a white silk headscarf. The rustling of the fabric as she unfolded it unnerved me so much that I instinctively tilted my head from side to side in discomfort, pressing my hand to my chest as breathing grew difficult. Alarmed, Büşra came over, holding my arm to turn me toward her.
"You don't have to force yourself into anything. Please, don't do this to yourself."
She gently pushed back the loose strands of pearls I had weaved into my hair and cupped my tear-filled face, her gaze meeting mine. The tears streaming from my eyes fell onto my dress.
"Furkan…" Even for him, I doubted I could do it. I approached the window to calm myself. Even turning the handle felt like a burden. The creak as I opened the wooden frame only made me more irritable.
I heard the tapping sounds of Büşra's phone as she typed a message to someone. Moments later, there was a knock on the door. Turning toward it with a newfound calm from the fresh air I'd inhaled, I invited the person in.
"Can we talk?" Furkan stood at the door, holding the handle of the half-open door, waiting for permission to enter. When I nodded, he walked in. Büşra gave me a small air kiss from afar and left the room.
"Would you like to sit?"
In contrast to me, Furkan was incredibly calm. He sat on the bed and patted the spot beside him a couple of times, signaling me to join him. Without hesitation, I sat down. But as I settled some distance away from him, all I could think about was how that space between us would disappear in mere hours. The very thought pulled me out of my anxious state, causing a slight curve of happiness to form on my lips.
When I looked at Furkan, I realized his eyes were also focused on the space between us. I hadn't had the chance to examine him closely amidst all the stress. The navy suit he was wearing made him look even more regal. The black shirt beneath it hugged his figure, a detail I could discern even through the jacket. His hair was neatly combed, with his bangs falling perfectly over his forehead. How his hair managed to look so effortlessly disheveled yet meticulously in place was beyond me. As he gently scratched his beard, my gaze unintentionally shifted to his slender, shining lips. This unintentional act embarrassed me, making me swallow hard.
"Furkan!" The moment his name left my lips, I noticed him tense up. Was he just as nervous as I was? Without meeting my eyes, he responded.
"My Merve…" The softness in his tone sent shivers through my entire body. Every syllable that escaped his mouth seemed to melt into my ears, warming me from within.
"Furkan, I can't wear that headscarf. I… I just can't. I'm sorry. I don't know how this insistence of mine might make me look in your eyes, but I can't do this to myself. I don't think I can. I don't even want to try. You probably want it, of course you do, and you have every right to. I'd understand, but…"
As I rambled on, my nerves got the better of me, causing my words to become disjointed. Furkan, rightfully so, cut me off mid-sentence.
"My dear, my love, why are you stressing yourself out like this? Of course, we can sit down and discuss all of this, but why are you putting yourself through this torment right now? Today, tomorrow, and always—I never want to see anything but happiness in your eyes. Ups and downs are a part of life, but at the end of the day, I want to see those lips curve into a smile and your eyes shine, my green-eyed beauty."
My father… He used to call me "green-eyed beauty" too. Hearing Furkan use the same endearment only made my heart warmer, helping me forget all that had happened. It pulled me out of the depths of negativity and erased the pain.
"Come on, my love. The imam is here; he's waiting for us."
Nodding, I stood up from the bed.
"Thank you."
I didn't want to drag the subject further. As he said, we could talk about it later, but today wasn't the day. Furkan stood up as well, lightly patting his legs as though straightening his trousers. He opened the door and waited for me to walk through first. Together, we descended the stairs, with him leading the way and me following. In the living room, the imam was seated on a large armchair, waiting for us. Next to him were two chairs set up for Furkan and me. Across from him, Esma, Büşra, Elif, and Elif's brother Ömer were seated.
Furkan pulled out my chair for me to sit and motioned for me to take my place with a slight nod. After I sat, he settled into the chair beside me.
"Shouldn't we have given the young lady a headscarf? What is this appearance!"
The imam's voice was tinged with irritation, and I was about to respond when Furkan beat me to it.
"Is it obligatory, sir?" Furkan's tone, slightly laced with annoyance, mirrored the imam's earlier frustration. The imam clicked his tongue, muttered under his breath, and tilted his head to the side, visibly unsettled.
"Everything has a proper way, a method, my child. Astaghfirullah!"
"You're absolutely right, sir. Everything does have a proper way—especially preaching."
Furkan's sharp wit seemed to irk the imam, prompting him to move directly to the ceremony. He glanced at a sheet of paper, murmured a basmala, and recited a few prayers. During the prayers, unlike everyone else, I didn't lift my hands. Judging by the slight irritation in his voice, this seemed to annoy the imam further, but I couldn't have cared less. The opinions of people who hadn't lived my experiences meant nothing to me.
The imam turned to Furkan. "Do you, Furkan, son of Sadi, accept Merve, daughter of Selçuk, as your wife?"
"I do."
The imam repeated the question three times, and each time, Furkan's answer was firm and confident. When the same questions were directed to me, I gave my affirmative response as well. After scribbling something onto the paper, the imam handed it to Furkan, who, in turn, passed it to me. On the paper were the names of our families, as well as ours, and a section for the mahr (dower). It was blank.
"Write your mahr, my girl," the imam instructed.
I took the pen in my hand and thought for a few seconds, then smiled as I scribbled on the paper, folded it, and handed it to Furkan. He reached out to take the paper, his fingers lightly brushing against my palm, and for the first time, this contact made me freeze, my breath caught, and beads of sweat formed on my forehead. I could swear my legs were trembling, and slowly, his movements made my vision blur. I felt as if I was on the brink of fainting, the way he did it seemed almost deliberately playful, grinning mischievously as he looked deep into my eyes. Seeing my reflection in his pupils warmed my heart, and as he tucked the paper into his pocket and held my shoulders, he planted a warm kiss on my forehead and leaned into my ear. If he hadn't held my shoulders, I'm sure I wouldn't have been able to stand. Before the warmth of his lips left me, the warmth of his voice filled my ears.
"I love you, my wife!"
I knew I needed to swallow, but it was harder than I had ever imagined. "Wife!" Without separating from each other, an impulsive courage surged, and I grabbed his arm and kissed his cheek. My lips were burning, and the coldness of his skin sent a shock through my body. When I looked into his eyes, I saw that he was no different from me.
"I love you, my husband!" Büşra's sudden applause brought us back to reality.
"Aww! My dear friend, be so happy!"
She clapped her hands while jumping around, and when I looked around, I saw that the imam had already left. The others followed, congratulating us before heading out. Realizing that I couldn't stand much longer, I sat down where the imam had been.
"Especially the preaching!" I mimicked Furkan's deep voice, and I couldn't help but giggle. He looked at me with a fake scowl.
"Are you mocking me?" He took off his jacket and came over to me. Although we were now halal to each other, the closeness still felt strange, so perhaps that's why he created a distance between us again.
"Thank you for defending me, Furkan…" I put on a serious expression and continued speaking. "My grandfather killed my whole family because of Islam. My clothes and appearance separated me from my family. Those clothes mean nothing but hatred to me. I don't expect you to support me on this, but I appreciate your understanding. We've never had a chance to talk about this, so I wanted to tell you."
He closed the gap between us, getting even closer, and looked deep into my eyes without hesitation.
"There is indeed ease with difficulty."
I knew this verse, my mother would always recite it when I felt troubled! The ease amidst all the hardship was undoubtedly Furkan.
"Inshirah Surah!" I wished that the light in his eyes would never fade. I wanted him to be happy whether he was looking at me or not, and for sorrow never to touch him.
"All praise is to God, in every situation. If you allow me, I'll pray!"
I smiled and closed my eyes, then opened them again, stood up from the couch, and went upstairs to the bathroom. It was getting dark, so I turned on the light. I wasn't sure whether to sit back down or go to my room, unable to make up my mind. I knew we had done the imam marriage so that we wouldn't be alone, but something felt off. Why had everyone left? I thought it was best to go up to my room, so I gathered my dress and headed upstairs. I gripped the banister tighter with each step. My heart was pounding, and I could feel the stress making me sweat. We hadn't discussed this topic at all. Were we really going to act like a married couple? We were technically married, but…
"Oh Merve, could you calm down a little?"
As I muttered to myself, I entered my room. The sound of the creaky door made me feel embarrassed, and the thought that he would realize I was in the room made me want to sink into the ground. I dragged my feet to the bed and sat down, then quickly realized it was wrong and hurriedly got up. I sat in the chair by the window, unable to control my legs that were shaking with excitement. I rubbed my eyes with my fingers and fixed my eyebrows, not concerned about why I was doing what I was doing. Just then, the sound of the doorbell rang, stopping all my movements. Without taking a breath, I waited for him to enter.