Chapter 6: A Hint-The Painting

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Mehmet:

November 2021

I thought of expanding our business from the Grand Bazaar to other parts of Turkey. We first started off with one outlet at İzmir, then Mersin, Antalya, Kapadokya and more soon than ever we had spread onto the Asian side of the country.

Our shawls were in popular demand especially during this time of the year.

I now had bigger plans, I wanted our business to flourish worldwide.

I was currently on my plane to Iran where I was going to meet with one of the sponsors.

"Baba I will make you proud," I said to myself, "you won't regret your decision from up there."

I reached Iran and was taken to meet with the CEO of the company that would sponsor us there. To my surprise the CEO was actually a woman, probably in her late twenties. Iran had been through a revolution recently, women were given high posts and there was no compulsion for wearing the Hijaab.

This woman, whom I met, went by the name Sara. She was a bold, beautiful, and a strong, independent woman. She wasn't going to close the deal so easily. Instead, she was going to test me and my working skills to check whether I was suitable or not.

I wouldn't deny that I felt offended because she did not trust me enough, but I had no other option. And so I was kept under surveillance for the next 3 days where she tested me in several ways.

On the 3rd day she came up to me with some papers and her lawyer, I actually thought I was going to be deported, I didn't know how international travelling worked because this was the first time I stepped outside of Turkey. But instead, she had brought the contract for us to sign that would make her company one of our sponsors.

After the deal was closed she invited me to her room to celebrate with champagnè.

"Omer, 2 glasses and a bottle of our finest champagnè." She told her peon. While we sat down in her spacious and luxurious office, waiting for the champagnè, I gave a quick look around to see everything. The walls were covered with original artwork. Mostly of Irani artists.

"Two years from now and I would have a similar office if God wills!" I say to myself.

One of the paintings caught my attention immediately. It was of a woman who had her face completely covered with a veil except for her eyes. Her eyes were innocent. It seemed like the way to her soul. They had a natural warmth to it.

"Cheers!" we said, to the sound of the clunck of our glasses. She looked at me with a flirtatious look and said, "Hopefully this will turn out fruitful for the both of us."

I gave a smile not knowing what to say. She might have felt something towards me. But I felt nothing. Maybe because I wanted to keep it all professional and shiz or maybe because I was suddenly reminded of Beautiful Eyes when I saw the painting again. Those eyes were just as innocent as hers.

Where again was she from? Pakistan? Right. Next stop, Pakistan.

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