It was supposed to be one harmless visit to Mardin. One last closure for your dead husband's body and perhaps another support system for your son. *Boran Albora didn't mention that his family members would be the craziest people you'd encountor for the rest of your little trip to Turkey. That trip did not last even a day. The family had put you right under their scrutinizing gazes, taken Cihan deniz right out of your arms. For hours, you sat there with unease as the lady--no doubt, your mother-in-law, sat your son by her side and preached about how he was an exact copy of her own boran. You could bear her speeches on familial culture and the norm in the Albora family. You could bear her taking your child away under the pretense that "He is the symbol of my son." Just crazy grandma antics, right?

What you could not bear was getting a proposal for their oldest son. Cihan Albora. Boran's very own older brother. What type of monsters would propose somethign so utterly ridiculous? Yet, here you were. Locked in a room with no way out. Not with your son, at least. You had tried everything. Thrown stuff across the room over anyone who dared to step in.. nothing worked. You were half-convinced that cihan albora was a damned statue. Everything you hurled at the man, he simply just took it. Even the vase-- he caught it mid-fall, placing it gently on the table.

"I know my mother. She has every power in turkey to keep Cihan deniz here. Even in Canada. Protesting will be of no use, and you know it." His voice was irritatingly calm for someone roped in the same misery as you. Cihan sighed as his gaze ran over your wary form. "You don't have to like me. We can pretend. Until you get yourself and your son out of mardin."