《Bitter Sweet | ✔》Prologue
Advertisement
I was finishing my paperwork after the meeting. Endless blank pages of sketchy words, irrevocable plans, and mounting incomes filed one after another, a never-ending tale to a forgotten business.
My eyes blurred from lack of color, watering as I blinked to bring moisture back. I sighed, a knuckle cracking and a numbing ache began to clench around my hand. Leaning against my chair, I stretched, my gaze landing on the scenery behind me.
Baltimore wasn't as big as New York City, but it was a good place to have less competition. Skyscrapers seemed as if they touched the skies. Cars were zooming past one another on the roads, birds chirping. I sighed. This was the life.
I turned back to my paperwork. My eyes scanned over charts and graphs of our company's income this month. The board of directors had filed into my office earlier about new property investments. Earlier, I had asked my secretary, Thomas, to take notes, cringing at his caricature drawings of the directors on the graph. I should have known he was barely paying attention. Why did I give him this job?
Thomas was my companion in life. I had decided to give him a job at my company, considering the fact that he was organized and methodical about proceedings. Well, most of the times. Thomas was a known jokester, which is probably why he was quite a ladies' man. He also got on the directors' nerves.
Speaking of the devil. "Hey, you got the paperwork done yet?" asked Thomas, poking his head out the door.
I tilted my head at him. "Have you ever heard of this thing called knocking?"
Thomas deadpanned as he walked into my office, "Very funny, Tarkan."
"It was a genuine question," I smirked.
"Genuine question my ass," he grumbled as he took a seat in the leather chair in front of me. He handed me the files, "Those are the notes from today."
I quickly skimmed over them. "You certainly are attentive to detail," I observed as I checked how accurately he pinpointed every point and advice the directors gave us. He even took notes about the exact measurements of the new property.
"Don't let it deceive you. I was bored as hell during that meeting."
"I can imagine," I chuckled, deeply. I signed the last page of the paperwork and checked my watch. "Did you send someone to pick up my brother?" I asked. My brother and I were suppose to meet my grandparents for dinner today.
"Did that a while ago," he replied, checking the clock on the wall. "He should be here right about-"
Advertisement
Knock Knock.
"Now," he grinned. He stared at his hands as if he yielded magical abilities to bend time, "I think I'm a wizard."
I rolled my eyes at him, "Trust me, being a wizard is a little too far fetched even for you." I got up to answer the door.
"You know, maybe if you weren't such a dick to people, you would have found a wife by now," scowled Thomas.
I opened the door, completely ignoring his comment. Wife? Yeah, right. I was still in my prime years. I didn't need a woman to drag me down and keep me tied to a family. I was used to my independence that the idea of marriage seemed like a faraway land to never be touched. I didn't mind. Marriage seemed too constricting, too complicated.
Besides, women were a hassle to deal with.
"Assalamualaikum!" chirped my twelve year old brother, Bashir.
Bashir and my grandparents were the only blood relatives that I still had alive. I had migrated with a three year old Bashir to America when I was a teenager. Bashir shared my pitch black hair, but his eyes were a light brown.
"Waalaikumsalam," I smiled. "Aren't you in a cheerful mood?" I asked as he took a seat next to Thomas. They did their weird handshake.
"Yep, went to a dessert shop on my way here. The lady makes amazing shakes," he recalled, excitedly.
I closed the door.
"Did you bring me something?" asked Thomas. His eyes were gleaming with hope. That pig.
Bashir smiled apologetically, "Sorry. I forgot you worked here."
I stifled a laugh as Thomas grumbled a string of curse words under his breath. I walked over to the desk to retrieve my coat, "File the paperwork and then you can leave."
"Heard you loud and clear, Boss."
Again, I ignored his comment. "Just do it."
* * * *
As I drove my car, I noticed Bashir had gone utterly silent. His lips were etched in a frown as he leaned his cheek against his palm. His elbows rested on rolled down window. The summer breeze brushed through his black locks. Bashir silently gazed at the blur of cars.
"Everything alright?" I asked, keeping my gaze on the road ahead.
"Yeah," he mumbled.
"Bashir," I sighed. "What's wrong?"
He simply shrugged.
"Seriously?"
He turned to look at me. An expression of boredom planted on his face. "It's just school," he said.
"What about school?" I questioned.
"Bad grades," he muttered under his breath.
I hissed, "It's the end of the school year!"
Advertisement
"I know," he said quietly.
I inhaled a breath to calm the bubbling anger deep within my chest.
"What happened?" My voice was strained, fighting for control of my emotions. I practically raised Bashir. I refuse to let him fail.
"I guess all this moving around because you're so busy took a toll on me."
"If you need a tutor, just ask me," I reassured.
"I probably do."
I parked the car as I shot him a pointed look, "We'll talk about this later."
We were outside of my grandparents large house. The house was three floors, mostly made from marble. Grandpa used to own the business, but he gave me ownership once I graduated. I gestured to Bashir to follow me. I rubbed my temple. His grades were now added onto a list of problems. Honestly, I was just hoping this meeting with my grandfather would go well.
My grandfather was a very strict Muslim. He had been trying to get me married for years, but I always refused. I liked my independence. From a young age, my grandfather taught me everything I should know about being a practicing Muslim, like praying. I admired how strong he was in his faith. May Allah bless me with that much iman (faith) one day.
* * * *
After I led the Maghrib (sunset) prayer, we had gathered around the table. My grandmother was very traditional to the Turkish culture. My grandfather and Bashir were laughing about a funny lecture they had heard.
"Ibrahim, could you pass me some rice?" asked my grandfather.
"Sure," I replied as I passed the bowl of rice to him.
I piled my plate with rice and menemen, which was a dish that consisted of eggs, tomatoes, green pepper, and various other spices. It was my grandmother's specialty. As soon as the taste hit my tongue, I felt a moment of bliss. Without a doubt, my grandmother's cooking was the best I ever had.
My grandmother cleared her throat, "We would like to talk to you about something very important to us."
I stayed silent as I put my metal spoon down. Bashir raised a brow at my grandfather, whose gaze did not leave my own. I could sense the mood shift in the room as my grandparents exchanged glances with each other. The heartfelt laughter was gone and instead replaced by an uncomfortable silence.
"Well?" I asked, picking up my glass of water to drink.
I felt the cold water going down my throat when my grandfather spoke, "You're getting married."
I spluttered out my water.
"What?!" Bashir and I exclaimed, simultaneously.
I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.
"You're getting married," he repeated. His voice was stern, leaving no room for arguments.
"Are you saying I don't have a choice?"I questioned with narrowed eyes.
He nodded, "That's exactly what I'm saying." He put his utensils down as he dropped his gaze to the floor. "Ibrahim, we're getting old."
My grandmother hummed in agreement. "You know we don't like to force things on you, but one day we won't be here," she smiled sadly, "I'd - no we would like to see you get married before our time runs out."
I jumped out of my chair. "What are you guys saying? That you're going to die?" I rushed out in panic.
"No one knows when Allah decides to take us, but it doesn't mean we get younger," she said. Her eyes pleading for me to understand what she was proposing. The wrinkles on her face deepened as she frowned, "I know you don't want to, but please hear us out."
My fists clenched at my sides. "To whom do you suppose I get married to?" I forced out.
Anger welled inside me. It was as if a flame had been ignited from within. They were demanding I get married even though I had told them many times that I would not. Bashir and I were fine on our own. We didn't need to add a female into the equation.
"Preferably a Turkish Muslim woman, but the choice is yours," replied my grandfather. "However, we do expect you to be married by the end of this year, or else I will hand the business down to someone else," he threatened.
Bashir's eyes widened as he glanced between us.
I felt my right eye twitch. "Isn't it wrong to force someone into marriage?" I asked, my voice dropped to a deadly tone.
My grandfather huffed, "It's not forcing, and I'm giving you the choice of who you can marry. I just set a time for when."
"Big difference," I rolled my eyes, annoyed.
My grandfather got up. "The point is that you get married and keep your position or lose it," he said.
I was about to speak up when my grandmother's gentle hand held my arm. "Please, Ibrahim. Do this for us," she begged in her soft motherly tone.
Instantly, my willpower to fight back crumbled. "I'll do it, but only if I get to pick my bride."
My grandfather's lips slowly curled into a smile. The glint of satisfaction was still in his eyes. "Deal."
Character Aesthetics
Advertisement
Phoenix's Requiem
Painfully shy and conflict-averse, Yun Ruoyan is a scion to a noble house only in name, a puppet embroiled in political machinations beyond her ken. At the tender age of eighteen, poisoned and at death’s door, she finds herself thrown out into the streets. Her relatives have all been executed, betrayed by her dear husband and her cousin. With her dying breath, she curses her own weakness and swears revenge.When Yun Ruoyan awakens once more, she is thirteen, transported five years into the past by the will of the heavens. Her death-defying experience has changed her: no longer is she the malleable creature she once was. But more questions await at every corner—what is the truth behind the birthmark that disfigures her appearance? What are the circumstances surrounding her mother’s mysterious death?Will the phoenix rise from the ashes, or will she fall once more in thrall to fate?
8 646I Will Make An Effort To Change The Genre
I entered the world of my favorite novel and genre through someone else’s body.
8 242His one and only
𝘙𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 ' 𝘞𝘩𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘰𝘮 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦?'𝘐 𝘨𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘴, 𝘐 𝘸𝘰𝘯.♥️𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘴 𝘦𝘹 𝘸𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦.𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘶𝘱 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘯𝘦𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴, 𝘯𝘰𝘳 𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘮𝘪𝘦𝘴𝘑𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴.♥️THIS WAS MY FIRST BOOK AND IT NEEDS SERIOUS EDITING
8 263The Other Man | Jungkook X Reader
"You are my only man" A BTS jungkook fanfiction.
8 197Artemis
"Let them go, Dante." I whip my head to see a small boy standing the clearing with blonde hair and a green cloak hanging from shoulders. He isn't very tall however he holds his stance well. He doesn't seem to be more than Cassandra's age. Maybe 12 at most. I abruptly turn my head back hearing the man holding a sword to my throat chuckling with a sinister grin. "Oh, poor boy, what are you go to do about it?" The yellow teeth gleam as he begins stalking towards the boy who does not look the least bit fazed. I look around at the other men who are following the leader. I pull Cassandra tighter to my back as I take small steps back. I keep my eye trained on the men but also fear for the naive boy. "Do you really want to test me Dante?" He asks raising a single eyebrow. For a minute the men stop their movements. I see their hesitation for fear... Fear of what? I take the moment to stick Cassandra behind a nearby tree. She crouches down while I pull my sword out from its place. "How do you know my name?" The scoundrel raises his sword challenging towards the boy before taking a final step towards him. Then the unexpected happens. The young boy chuckles so darkly. It sounded almost... demonic. All the men instinctively raise their swords. "Oh Dante, I didn't know your name... but you know someone dear to me." "Spit it out boy!" The once grinning man is now looking around frantically. I continue my eyes scanning the small boy. He looks directly me and gives me a small nod before saying one word that caused all hell to breaks loose. "Artemis." Artemis is not an ordinary girl. She grew up in the wilderness after being shunned due to unique abilities and her different physical attributes. Blessed with an ability that scared others, she roams the wild with only her guarded one. That is until she stumbles into a situation that brings her in front of a prince.
8 266Entangled: Playfully
Entangled Book #2Life is short; it should be full of fun. These are the words of Daniel Adams.Daniel Adams is playful, joyous, and is full of life. Despite being the CEO of the USA's topmost company, he didn't lose his ability to make people laugh. But when someone messes with him; he better get ready for Daniel's wrath. Eloise Nicole; a perfect blend of beauty, elegance, and smartness. She's a celebrity. Not to forget, little arrogance and tough nature to shoo men and haters away doesn't hurt. Right? And this nature of her gave her a tag of an arrogant celebrity. Both are the eye candies of media and obviously, has to keep their other side secret.What happens when they both meet unexpectedly? Let's see how magical, invisible powers of destiny entangles the playful and arrogant with each other. Let's see how destiny makes them unleash their hidden side in front of each other.**I do not allow my work to be used or adapted in any way without my permission.**©All rights reserved
8 100