Bosphorus Rose

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Bosphorus Rose

Chapter 7

Try as he might, Murad couldn't forget Iskender's fingers brushing against his cheek. He couldn't understand what was going on. His heart raced thinking about it.

That night, after the signing of the marriage contract officially making them husband and wife, the bride and groom were led to the nuptial chamber by older female relatives, before the door was shut behind them. They were finally all alone.

Murad was nervous. His heart was pounding. His veiled wife was waiting for him to do something – anything. He could barely see her face beneath the white fabric.

He tried to remember what Iskender had told him, but he couldn't focus. He took a deep breath, and tried to go ahead with his duties. With trembling hands, he finally lifted his wife's veil, revealing her face to him for the first time.

Fatima was right, she really was beautiful.

Her skin was pale like porcelain while her hair was a deep black. Her pink lips were plump, and her eyes were greyish-green. Those eyes were looking directly at him.

Murad didn't know what to do. Muhsine could probably sense how nervous he was.

"Let's start with dinner first," she said, rather calmly.

Right. Dinner. While the room was prepared earlier, the table had been laid and the dishes arranged. It was to be the couple's first meal together. Of course, Murad chided himself. There was to be dinner first. How could he forget something like that? He surely must've embarrassed himself in front of his new wife.

The two of them sat down around the circular table on the smooth carpet – Muhsine sitting directly opposite him. Murad had no choice but to face her, when all he wanted to do at that moment was to slink away and hide. He was much too embarrassed thinking about what was to come afterwards.

Usually Murad would at least try to engage in polite conversation, it was how he was used to at social events. But this was different, and with only the two of them there Murad's heart thumped in his chest.

Muhsine only sat there, gracefully as ever, eating only a little. She seemed to be waiting for Murad to do something - anything.

But Murad only froze, and precious time was slipping away from his fingers.

Soon, it was time for bed and the couple had barely spoken a word to each other. Murad was still nervously trying to find the courage to start something, but at the same time he found it strange Muhsine was so calm. Wasn't she nervous?

She had gone behind the wooden screen to give herself a bit of privacy. Murad could hear the heavy bridal dress fall to the ground as she shed it off her slender body. She had put on a western-styled nightdress, made of a soft white silk and trimmed with delicate lace.

Murad's heart thumped in his chest. They exchanged glances, and obligingly, Murad shrank away behind the screen as well. He slipped out of his jacket, hanging it over the wooden screen, next to his wife's dress. One of the servants had already placed his kaftan, neatly folded above the armoire. Everything was already set, Murad sighed to himself as he put the light cotton garment on.

He couldn't help but feel like the entire affair was a rehearsed performance, with the denouement of the play to be held in the nuptial chamber. Murad couldn't help but feel his movements being controlled by invisible strings. Everyone had played their part. It was now up to him.

Murad stared at his reflection in the wash basin. He was a man now. He really was a man now.

But he wasn't sure if he was ready. Not tonight, not ever.