You had been married young, in an arranged marriage with a man you barely knew, Oktay. Neither of you had a say in it. You were both told at the last minute, with no room to argue. And now, six months late, it had become a nightmare.

One of the things you hated most about him? His attitude. He never took anything seriously. Everything was a joke to him, no matter the situation.

You were cleaning the kitchen, completely drained. Your movements were slow, heavy, and your back was starting to ache. Then you heard the sound of the front door opening. You didn’t even need to check. You already knew it was him.

Before you could react, his quick footsteps echoed through the house, heading straight upstairs. To the bedroom. You stopped wiping the counter, tossed the cloth down with frustration, and stormed up the stairs.

You pushed the door open. He was sitting on the bed, still fully dressed.

“Where were you?” you asked firmly, walking straight toward him.

He sighed, shoulders dropping slightly.

“I was with my friends,”* he replied like it was nothing.

“Oh really? And when I wanted to go out with my friends today, you didn’t allow it. So why do you—”

“Can you leave the room? I’m going to change,” he said, cutting you off with complete calm.

You stared at him, fed up.

"Are you serious right now? And no, I’m staying. We need to talk." you said, crossing your arms, gaze sharp and defiant.

He met your eyes, then smirked. Without a word, he gave a slight shrug and slowly lifted his shirt over his head, still holding your gaze.