Beyond the words

The morning had just arrived.

In the city of Istanbul, Turkey, in a beautiful area called Beyoğlu, everyone was busy with their work. People were rushing around, doing their daily tasks, lost in their own little worlds.

And then suddenly — a sound broke through the noise.....

"Aaaah! Are you blind? Can't you see? You spilled all the tea!" Aliya looked at her angrily.

"I'm sorry, aunty. It won't happen again," she replied in a trembling voice.

"It won't happen again? Where is your attention? Huh!"

"Mom, she won't improve. Let me teach her what the consequence of spilling tea is," Haleema said, looking straight into Hayat's eyes.

"Come with me." She grabbed Hayat's arm tightly and said. That sudden action of hers filled Hayat with fear. She had realized that a new torment was waiting for her. She kept screaming, but Haleema showed no mercy and dragged her away from the dining table to the ironing stand. With one hand she plugged in the iron's cord, and with the other hand she had grabbed Hayat's arm.

"Aunty!aunty!" She began screaming loudly, but Haleema showed no mercy and picked up the hot iron and placed it on her arm.

"No. No! Please forgive me," she said in a trembling voice.Where Hayat's arm had now burned and turned badly red, on the other side of her arm there were nail marks, which had dug in from Haleema's tight grip on Hayat's arm.Haleema separated her arm from her grip and walked away to the dining table with a loud mocking laugh. Can someone really be this cruel? she asked herself, lying on the floor. A few seconds later, a voice came from within her: "Yes"— they exist — but one's own people! Even crueler than strangers, because strangers don't oppress... pain is only associated with one's own people.

Then suddenly, silence spread all around. She was staring at the ceiling. The tears flowing from her deer-like eyes began streaming faster, and once again a voice came: Why this mourning over the pain of one's own? Why this sorrow?

Another question was awaiting its answer when once again a voice came — and this time the voice was her own. The answer came: Perhaps we never expect this much from strangers... Finally, the voice grew a little faint, and complete darkness fell.

                 ___________◇_____________

He was sitting in the darkness, gazing toward the window with his brown eyes. His face was expressionless — he sat with his arms folded on the sofa placed in front of his bed, continuously staring toward the window, when suddenly the room's door opened. The light that came with the opening of the door illuminated his face. A tall girl, with plain features and a wheatish complexion, entered the room carrying a food tray — when suddenly a voice froze her steps right there, and she began looking toward him.

"Stay right there," he said without looking at Fajar.

"Bhai, I need to talk to you about something important," she said, stopping right there.

"How many times have I said not to come into my room with a  food tray," this time Alehan had looked toward Fajar.

"Speak! What do you want to say? You have five minutes, and while talking keep in mind that I prefer brief conversation," saying this he had come and stood very close to her.

"Mom has scheduled my Nikkah for the end of this week."

"I know!" he replied in an expressionless tone.

"Did Azlan tell you?" Fajar asked in surprise.

"So in this matter, what help can I provide you?" Alehan asked, looking at the watch lying on the side table in his corner.

"Does that mean you won't be a part of my happiness either?" Fajar said sadly.

"Are you asking or telling?" Alehan had shifted his gaze from the watch.

"Please!" she came a little closer.Suddenly, a silence fell over the room. He wasn't so cruel that he couldn't fulfill the wish of his sister—even if she was his stepsister. Although he hated every single person in that house, he found himself unable to hate this innocent girl. For some unknown reason, he saw a reflection of his own mother in Fajar.

-He looked at Fajar once more and then turned his face away. Then, taking long strides, he walked toward the bed.

"Does this mean I should take that as a 'yes'?" Fajar asked hurriedly.

Alehan looked at Fajar again and gave a faint smile.

"Thank you so much, brother!" Fajar said, jumping with joy, and immediately rushed out of the room. She knew that her brother’s silence meant 'yes,' and she also knew that he could never refuse her. She was aware that the reason behind Alehan's behavior was his past. Deep down, he harbored a suspicion that his stepmother was involved in his mother’s murder, and because of this, he hated everyone.