ONC 2022 Longlist / Top 25 The Historical Award 2022 & 2023 hosted by @HistoricalFiction / Featured by multiple profiles
In the tyrannical kingdom of Aratta, a young widowed mother returns alive from the den of a mysterious king where women go only...
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Ican assure Estella that I bore no serious sourness towards Sitara for what she had done, rather what she and Borzou had done. But some things still prick me, demanding a conclusion.
All night I had been sleepless and dawn came as a saviour. Breathing in the fragrance of the floral garden, I walk towards a bench to sit. I have to gather my thoughts before confronting her.
My eyes are oblivious to the beauty of the blue lotuses flood in sadness. It is bitter to me more because she didn't trust me; the thought of Puloman being enraged at her secret being revealed pokes me less.
"How cruel is love? How shrewd and vicious?"
Borzou indeed had been a nice man. A human in a thousand with a golden heart. To fall in love with him is only a matter of weakness but, to venture into making a family with a man outside of one's loved ones is a sin.
But Borzou must have been a loved one in her perspective.
Did they not think twice before taking the heavy, risky decision? Could making love not wait? Was it so necessary?
"Easy, Vivasvat. Pull the reigns!"
The miasma of betrayal takes the smoky shape of a club, piercing me in my nightmares. I see them with eyes open and mind alert, imagining Sitara to change into what Borzou had promised to never be, and I watch them hand-in-hand take over Aratta and destroy it in the name of love. I see Estella laugh at my softness, my kind heart. I see all my kindred spirits leave me for the worst to come knock my doors.
"Mistrust– the seed of mistrust has been sown."
I heave a sigh. It would take a long conversation with Sitara to mend the things. Maybe more than one day.
But the thing must be started and done gradually.
On the other side of the pond I see Cihangir and Yama eat apples and almonds, talking with all smiles. They are almost of the same age and as I have heard, have been good friends despite the clash between their mothers. I guess after Juno's death they got to be together for more times. If only everybody's world could be as beautiful as theirs.
But are they indeed happy? How many times does Cihangir cry for his mother and father, or how many times does Yama question why his father went to the sky? How many times will these questions bury them more as they grow up? They need love, care, like everybody else.
Like Sitara, maybe. Maybe Puloman had tried to respect her but could never love.
"Perspective matters. It will be easy to curse Sitara but hard to understand her, and I will do the latter."
With renewed determination, I get up and make my way towards Sitara's abode.
