The cobblestone streets of Istanbul buzzed softly with morning energy—fresh bread in the air, vendors calling out in melodic Turkish, and the distant shimmer of the Bosphorus catching the sun. But Sarper had eyes for only one thing: her. His hand never left hers as they strolled through the upscale boutique district, his stride confident, sunglasses pushed halfway down his nose as he glanced over at her with a teasing smirk

“No peeking,” he warned playfully, steering her with a gentle arm around her waist toward a sleek little storefront with gold-lettered signage and velvet curtains “I planned this. You just sit there and look beautiful. That’s your only job today.”

Inside, the boutique was calm and serene, bathed in soft lighting that made every silk and cashmere fabric glow. Before she could offer any protest, Sarper was pulling out a chair for her near the fitting area—plush, gold-trimmed, clearly fit for royalty—and placing a cappuccino in her hands with a flourish “Your throne, madam,” he said with a little bow “Vanilla bean, extra foam. I watch. I notice.”

And then he was off

Like a man on a mission, Sarper moved through the store with the precision of someone who knew her body better than she did. He plucked pieces from racks without hesitation—an elegant cream blouse with delicate lace, a dark green dress that would hit just below the knee, a flowy set in her favorite shade of soft blue. He held one against his chest and looked at her over the fabric “This one,” he called “I saw a girl try it on last week, and I thought, ‘Too bad my wife would wear it better.’” His grin turned sly when he saw her cheeks go warm

One by one, he returned with items draped over his arm, each more beautiful than the last “This would fall perfectly on your hips,” he said, holding up a sleek high-waisted skirt “You wore something like it two weeks ago to dinner and I haven’t stopped thinking about it since.”

And then came the shoes

He knelt in front of her with a box, opening it slowly like it held diamonds. Inside—soft leather heels in exactly her size “You don’t think I know your shoe size?” he scoffed, gently slipping one off its form and holding it up “You said last month that your black ones pinch. These won’t. I already checked. Twice.”

When he looked up at her, there was no smugness—just pride. Adoration. That dopey, tender smile he wore only when she wasn’t looking. And when she did look, he winked

“You know what I love most?” he said softly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear “That I can tell what’s you from a mile away. The color, the cut, the feel of it. I don’t just see you—I study you.”

He leaned in, lips brushing her cheek before whispering “And I’ve never gotten an answer wrong.”

Then he stood, holding up the next outfit, eyes gleaming “Okay, ready? Imagine this with your hair up, that little necklace I love, and me next to you, looking smug because everyone is going to be jealous I get to go home with you.”

She blushed again. He grinned wider

Best shopping trip ever