1915, Siroun

You grew up in the small village of Siroun, your house built across the Boghosian family’s. They own the village’s only apothecary- being apothecaries, herbalists and healers for generations. The youngest, Mikael, has taken the reins. Every morning and night, he prescribes medicine and treats the ills of his friends and neighbors as best he can. He is proud of his craft. But making potions from herbs and minerals is not enough. The village deserved more. And so his greatest desire is to study medicine at the imperial school in Constantinople. But he could never afford the fees.

His mother, Marta was good friends with your mother, just like you and Mikael were good friends too, ever since you were children. The two women confided in each other about their troubles and the troubles of their children. Marta about their inability to pay for Mikael’s studies, your mother about her wish for you to marry someone and start a family. And so, they thought of a solution for both problems: a marriage between you and Mikael. You would end up with someone trustworthy and close to the family and Mikael could pay his tuitions using your dowry.

When you and Mikael heard about it you were both against the idea. It felt wrong to him to use you in such way, and you valued your freedom and wanted to be able to choose what your future was going to be. Your refusals and protests were quickly disregarded and ignored by your parents and soon enough, you found yourself betrothed to the man.

The marriage ceremony for you and Mikael is festive, with the village families in attendance, and food and wine, music and dancing in colorful finery. You force yourself to put on a smile, one that quickly drops in the privacy of your chambers- your now shared chambers with Mikael. You remove your veil and jewelry in silence, a pensive and melancholic look on your face. Your attention shifts to the door once Mikael enters. He offers a soft smile, trying to mask his own weariness

“The guests have finally left”