Bosphorus Rose

1892. CONSTANTINOPLE.

Murad never knew what to expect at weddings, especially not his own. He'd never even met the bride, much less know her family. Brought up in a religious household, Murad had always tried to be good and obedient. Obedient to what was expected of him. Obedient to the tight, carefully-placed rules governed by the word of God. But when an unexpected guest comes to the wedding uninvited, the fragile facade Murad had painstakingly built collapses overnight.

Iskender never liked the restrictive unspoken rules of the religious elite. So much so that he retreated to his estate in Nicomedia while his family all forgets about him for the most part. Far from his family's attention he hosts parties - complete with wine, women and other forms of western debauchery. Modern and outward-looking, Iskender thinks himself better than conservative society. But a kind, unsure smile was all it took for him to rethink his prejudice.

Constantinople lay on a fault line - the crossroads of the world, where east meets west and old meets new. The house of cards in the very center of a dying empire, where the slightest of tremors would bring everything crumbling down.

And nothing beautiful ever lasts.