Looking For His North Star

Epilogue

Yaman woke up, covered in sweat.

He groaned, trying to roll over, but there seemed to be a weight on top of him, limiting his movements.

He opened his eyes, blearily.

Yildiz was lying on his chest, her curly hair sticking to his face and neck. He hadn't even noticed when she'd snuck into their room and crawled on top of him, to use him as her personal pillow. Her little body was producing so much heat and her body heat, coupled with the sunny mornings of the hot summer days, was going to give him a heatstroke.

He glanced to his right to see that Seher's side of the bed was already empty.

Yaman tried to move without waking Yildiz up, but he failed monumentally when she raised her head, blinking her big green eyes. Her small hands rested on his collarbone- the tenderest weights imaginable.

Yaman brushed her tangled hair out of her face and smiled.

"Good morning, Yildizim."

She yawned hugely and dropped back on to his chest.

"Good morning, baba," she said, voice muffled against his shirt.

He sat up and tried to place her on the bed infront of him, but she refused to let go of his shirt. Yaman gave up after a moment, hugging her close and standing up. He peered into her sleepy face.

At almost five years old, Yildiz looked so much like Seher, it was a little disconcerting to see them together. Her big eyes, the shape of her face, her lithe physique and even the texture of her hair were as same as her mother. Yaman marveled at how he got everything he'd ever wanted, in the shape of his wife and his children.

Yildiz looped her tiny arms around his neck, yawning again.

"Where's your mom?" Yaman asked.

She giggled. "She's running around..."

Ah, of course. It was a big day for the Kirimlis. And Seher had taken it upon herself to prepare everything, so it was no surprise that she would be hectic.

He opened the bedroom door, with his daughter in his arms, and almost knocked out the speedy little boy who came running at them. The boy pushed past them like a bullet, screaming his head off.

"Catch him, uncle!" Yusuf's voice rang from somewhere in the passage, a little too late.

Seher peeked out from the twins' room, holding a small white shirt, looking harassed.

"Why doesn't this boy like wearing shirts?" She asked in an exasperated voice. Yusuf came up behind her, already dressed in a neat blue shirt and black slacks. He was almost as tall as his aunt, now.

Seher blinked at Yaman and Yildiz.

"Even you guys aren't ready yet??"

She pushed the shirt at Yaman and took Yildiz from his hands.

"Here, go dress Arif up, he listens to you anyway. Come on, sweetheart. Let's get you into a beautiful dress, shall we?"

They disappeared back into the room.

Ziya came from the other side of the house, holding Arif from his armpits. He was squirming vehemently.

"Put me down!" He demanded.

"Arif..." Yaman said in a firm voice.

He went limp immediately, voice becoming small and uncertain.

"Put me down?"

Ziya laughed.

"He reminds me of you, Yaman. Remember how Yalçin and I used to chase you around the house to get you into your clothes, when we were children?"