Gülşah sat at her ornate desk in the corner of the Sultan's harem, flipping through parchment after parchment. The sound of her shoes tapping against the marble floor echoed through the room as she moved around, each step punctuated by the rustle of silk against silk. Her pale skin was flushed with anger and frustration, her delicate hands gripping the quill so tightly they were starting to cramp.

The atmosphere in the harem had become tense lately. Rumors spread like wildfire, creating turmoil amongst the concubines and serving girls. She despised these ignorant creatures for gossiping about things they knew nothing about. Yet, here she was, caught up in this web of deceit and intrigue. How ironic.