I didn't consider myself to be a good man. Heck, I was far from the word good.

Men like me didn't fall in the category of Good. I was the type that your parents would warn you about. The type that made you question why there was badness in this world.

I was far from good. Yet somehow as I glanced down at those large brown- hazel like eyes. Something stirred within, at the pit of my stomach. A feeling so unknown to me, almost like an urban legend.

A feeling I hadn't ever come across, that just the sense of acknowledgment had my throat tightening, almost as if glass shards were being plunged inside.

What was this feeling?

A chilly breeze suddenly made contact against my skin as I felt the world around me still. My breathing halting and the only sight that remained were those eyes before me. The eyes that reminded you of the sunset in an oasis. Those eyes that made you believe in light after darkness, those eyes that almost looked like fire ready to burn you yet at the same time, embrace you with full arms.

Those innocent eyes that would one day kill a sinner like me.

I had always questioned my mother on why I was named Moustafa and each time she would look at me. A kind smile on her face, through the heartache and say,

" Because you're the chosen one, my lion"

I'd look at her for the longest of times and then shake my head. What was I chosen for? What purpose could I possibly have. And yet none of these questions were answered. Instead I had to seek them for myself, I had to learn to grow up and be the man of the house at age Ten. I had to look after my brothers and my mother, because unlike most people. I had to grow up more than my years, but then again it was inevitable process.

Especially when your father is gunned down and you have to learn to fend for yourself.

I should hate her. I should loathe her, yet as the woman now stared at me with those innocent eyes. I couldn't ignore the turning of my stomach, or how there was a slight nervousness rolling through my bones.

Unlike the woman laying beside me. We were brought up on the rougher side of the world. The side that brought you darkness more earlier than everyone else. The part of the world where you had to climb the ladder called life with your bruised and blooded hands.

The part of the world where most of your nights were spent sleeping on an empty stomach and the thought of earning a few more coins the next day kept you going.

Unlike my wife, I had to learn to live with the darkness around me and the only message of hope being your spark of light.

And through it all, the question played through my head again, after so many years.

Why was I named ' The chosen one' and somehow Eighteen years later I somewhat found the answer. It was because of her.

I can still remember the day I saw her. That fateful day when my world tipped upside down.

There was a calm breeze that day and somehow the pounding sun had ceased all control and illuminated the courtyard filled with people, shinning brightly through the spring days.

Despite the heat and the scorching sunlight. I stood near the car, waiting. Hoping that the man who thought he could double-cross the loan he took from us, would end up at the mesmerising sight of the Hagia Sophia.

Kenan insisted he wasn't there, and quite frankly there was a feeling pondering through me. And I knew too, that he wouldn't be there but something made me stay.

It was her.

I was waiting for her under the spring breeze. Somehow, it was fate or destiny that would weave its thread and show me my wife.

If a question was ever raised of ones loyalty to family and tradition, I knew I'd be somewhere at the top of the list. There was no doubt, that I'd die for the ones I loved. It was the whole death before dishonor, at least that was something we had been raised with.

The feud between the Aydin's and Khizan's ran deeper than blood. It was one of those things that was just- there.

How it started. Why it started, should have been settled with the dust and for years we thought it was. Until Hamza.

I remember when Hamza left for Istanbul, with a promise of buying shares in the stock market. It would have been his biggest achievement in life. He was like that, the brightest one out of us all. When I left to carry my service to the country and Murat still at college. Hamza was well on his way finishing his Business and Marketing degree.

They say ' Health to your hands' and my younger brother had just that. He was on his way to conquer the world, yet little did he know. There was only one ruler.

My three year service was done, and I had assigned for additional three years. I could still remember the day when I got a call from the hospital, asking to come and identify a body.

The feeling of your knees being crampled and your heart twisting was still as fresh to me as it was all those years back.

Hamza had been shot. Six times or more. His body was found near the borders of our town. It was a statement. They made a statement being- that they could kill us even on our soil.

The day Hamza's coffin was lifted. I vowed on the soil covering his grave that I would make them pay. Each and every single one of them.

And I did. I destroyed them. The ones that killed my brother. The ones that had been hired and were paid millions- and when I was satisfied with the turn out. I went after their masters. The ones that paid them and it didn't take a genius to know who killed Hamza.

Faith Al-Khizan had done.

Just as the coward he is, he thought he could buy loyalty with money, yet what did he know. The men he hired and thought that would carry his job told on him, just before I shot them the same way they shot my brother. Through his precious heart.

The world only recognised Fatih Al- Khizan as the renowned business man who was in the oil business. There wasn't much about him, only that his father was turk and his mother half Arab and half Turk.

The world acknowledged his wife, Lila Khizan as the chairwoman in her husbands company, and much wasn't known about their personal life. Except they had a son.

Roshan Al-Khizan.

For a man of his status, Fatih kept his life private but one thing he couldn't keep private was the fact that he had a weakness, and that wasn't his son.

It was his daughter that he hid from the world.

As much as he tried to hide her, fate played its tunes in a twisted way and brought her back to the soil which she was hidden from. And somehow, through this sick twisted game of Cat and Mouse. She became my wife.

I married my enemies daughter. And fuck I didn't regret a single moment.

You see, Farya isn't the woman I thought she'd be. She was a fucking angel, and instead of turning her life upside down, I embraced her in my arms and held her tightly. Feeling her small body mould against mine. Like Ying and Yang.

That's what we were.

" Do you know who killed Roshan?"

She whispered softly looking towards me making me swallow sharply. The world stilled for a moment as I stared down at the innocent young woman. Feeling my mouth open, I was no longer in charge of my own emotions as I spoke. Hearing utter silence.

" I do"

I whispered and it was as though lightening had striked us as the woman sat up all of a sudden. Her once resting body now tense and the touch of her skin still lingering on mine.

Closing my eyes, I stood up all of a sudden. I knew this day would come. When she'd figure it all out. She wasn't stupid. She never had been.

Standing up from the bed, Farya followed my movements as she stood in front of me. Her chest rising up and down rapidly and her eyes now a fiery colour. I could see the pink shade disappear from her lips and her face turning pale.

" Moustafa. Who?"

In taking a sharp breath, I stared down at her before taking a large step. Now inches away seeing her back away a little making something within turn.

" Farya, I need you to listen to me. Not everything is going to make sense because it's far too complex. I just need you to trust me"

I murmured looking hopeful in those hazel eyes seeing hundreds of emotions bottle through them, yet she remained utterly still.

" Moustafa, please tell me. Who killed my brother?"

She murmured softly, her soft hands reaching towards my cheeks as she cupped them lightly, making me close my eyes and lean in.

" I can't "

" Don't bullshit me! How can you not tell me. I demand to know"

She yelled exasperated. Her tiny fists slamming against my hard chest and for a moment. I felt the monster within rattle, for a moment I stared at her as my enemies daughter, I looked at her as the daughter of the man who killed my brother, until I felt her hold loosen and her eyes well up with tears.

And in that moment, she wasn't Fatih Al-Khizans daughter. In that moment she was my Farya. My wife and I wanted to tear the fucking world apart than to see those tears in her eyes.

All of a sudden Hamza's face flashed before me. His blue lips and pale face. Images of his bruised skin played before me and all I wanted to do was scream. Scream so loud that the heavens and the earth would be forced to hear me.

Glancing towards the woman, I found myself in taking a deep breath. Taking a dangerous step towards her, those large hazel eyes widened a little and her lower lip trembled as I spoke.

" Maybe it was Karma. Just how Hamza was killed, maybe some one did the same to your brother"

I spoke in a harsh tone, unable to understand how heavy those words sounded. A pang of hurt flashed across her face as the woman staggered backwards a little. Her hands shaking.

" What are you saying Moustafa?"

She whispered making me stare at her dead in the eyes. I knew she was getting so close to the truth, so close to finding it all out and somehow. After everything, I didn't know if she had the strength to handle the truth, because by God, it would kill her.

" Roshan didn't do anything-"

" And neither did Hamza, Goddamit! Hamza couldn't even hurt a fucking fly yet your father still killed him"

I yelled at the top of my lungs. The sound almost roaring back. I could feel the floor underneath shake a little, the old wood rattling as I glanced towards Farya, seeing my dead brothers face flash before me.

" Moustafa-"

" Don't Moustafa me Farya! It wasn't supposed to end like this. But you had to be there that fucking, day didn't you"

I yelled, not making any sense seeing the woman's face pale a little as she stared at me. Unable to believe her eyes, or her ears.

" I'm gonna kill him Farya. I'm gonna kill your father the same way he killed my brother"

I spoke in a cold tone. The heaviness to the words lingering in the air all around me as large tears ran down her eyes. The sound of her choked sob echoing all around.

Her lower lip trembled, making me groan inwardly, wanting to push her away yet at the same time wrap my arms around her and hold her tight as the world around us destroyed itself.

There was a sudden knock to the door making me glance to the side. Not turning to look at Farya, I took easy step towards the door, seeing Elder Ferhat stand in front of me. His dark cold eyes trained on mine.

I don't remember much of my father, then again I was ten when he died but all I knew was, he looked just like Elder Ferhat albeit to the fact that the two were twins. And somehow as I now looked at Elder Ferhat, it almost felt like I was staring at my own father.

" Aren't you going to introduce the bride" The man spoke, his words deep making my jaw clench tightly, and a cold shiver run down my spine.

The fact was, I didn't want to introduce Farya to anyone. Not because I was ashamed, but because they won't look at her as my wife; they'll look at her as Fatih Al-Khizan's daughter. And I knew how hot their blood boiled at the mention of that man's name, never mind having his offspring under the same roof.

Staring towards my uncle, I nodded seeing him give me a nod in acknowledgement.

" We'll be out in a second"

I spoke seeing Edler Ferhat glance at me one more time before he retreated and walked down the hallway.

There was a monetary silence as I stood up straight, my shoulders tensing a little before I glanced over them seeing Farya wipe her face quickly. Trying her best to hide the tears yet her red face gave it all away, not to mention her blood-shot eyes and just the sight of her looking so broken left my stomach turning.

This woman was going to be the death of me.

" Wash your face.. Farya"

I spoke after a moment of silence seeing her large eyes snap towards me. Without saying a word, she glanced down yet I knew every single emotion that passed through her eyes.

She was an open book. So easy to read.

Farya rushed towards the small bathroom next to the room and a minute or two passed before she emerged out. Her face was washed away from all the tears yet the water couldn't wash away her pain.

Walking towards me, the woman stood a few feet apart making me extend my hand out seeing her eyes widen before they turned fiery with anger and hurt.

" Farya-"

I started glancing down at her hand and towards her wedding finger seeing it empty.

" Where's your ring?" I spoke seeing an unknown look flash across her face before she looked upwards at me. Her eyes narrowing at mine

" Where's yours?"

She asked, her voice cold making a smirk plaster across my face knowing despite it all. My princess had claws.

Reaching towards my pocket I felt my fingers linger across a small chain before I brought it to her sight, seeing her eyes widen before she looked away.

" Besides, you never gave me one"

She mumbled in defense almost as if she was mad at herself more than me. In taking a sharp breath, I opened the ends of the small chain before pulling the two rings out. Holding the plain gold ring, I felt my hands reach towards her cold one as I slipped the ring seeing it fit perfectly.

How was I supposed to know, that the ring I put on her today would be the day, the strings to our fate will be ripped.

" Why are you doing this?"

She asked slowly as I felt her move her hand away and now to the side of her red dress.

" You're my wife"

I spoke, almost as if to remind myself that this beautiful young woman was mine. Bounded to me. Even if for the past two generations, there had been nothing but blood spilled between the two families. All I wanted was to make her mine, in every way possible.

Reaching towards the door. I pulled it open finding myself taking large steps towards the end of the hallway, seeing Uncle Ferhat sitting down. His eyes focused on the floor as Murat sat beside him. The two engaged in a conversation.

I could feel Farya follow behind me, her soft breathing and her feet pattering on the floor reaching my ears.

Stepping inside the large room, my eyes glanced at the men surrounding the room. Dressed in black suits and with the meanest look on their face, anyone who crossed their paths would wet themselves. They were the best in the business, former mercenaries, reeking with authority yet as I now walked in to the room.

The air around us stiffened and I could see the men look at me their faces turning neutral yet a single flicker of fear followed by respect through it. Because fear was something that was forced but respect was earned.

" Moustafa"

Adam spoke as I felt my eyes glance around the room. Glancing over my shoulder, Farya stood nervously behind me making me signal the men to leave the room and within a moment. The six guards that were surrounding the large space now left leaving the four men before me.

Signaling Farya to stand beside me, I could see the fight in her eyes cease away before she slowly stood next to me. My towering figure dwarfing hers.

" Elder Ferhat! This is Farya, my wife"

I spoke loudly enough for everyone to hear as Elder Ferhat looked at me, his dark eyes landing on me and then slowly towards Farya.

Reaching my hands towards hers, I felt her resist a little before I held on to it tightly feeling her gaze on me.

" So this is the infamous Farya Al-Khizan. Habib's granddaughter. Fatih's daughter"

Elder Ferhat spoke as he stood up, his towering figure matching mine. Taking easy steps forward, the man now remained a few feet away from us. His eyes briefly flashing towards me and then trailing towards Farya.

" My name is Ferhat Aydin" Elder Ferhat spoke looking towards Farya who nodded a little, before glancing down at her hands.

" I see you get your looks from your mother, how is Lila anyway? Still in business?" Elder Ferhat spoke making me clench my jaw tightly, knowing he was trying to intimidate her.

" How do you know-?"

" Surely Moustafa would have told you by now?"

The man spoke making me glare at him, seeing a dark smile come across his face. Any another man and they'd be under the ground in a blink of an eye but I knew Elder Ferhat was much more than the eyes met. Messing with him, was almost like playing with fire. You're bound to get burnt.

" Uncle"

I spoke in a warning tone seeing the man give me a hard look before he nodded and glanced towards Farya.

Turning towards me, I could see the hatred spewing in the man's eyes. All his teachings of never allowing anger to control you had now ceased away as his jaw tightened and his eyes narrowing dangerously towards mine.

The simple act would have gotten many quivering in fear yet all I did was give him a deadpan look. Not bothered in the least.

" She doesn't know, does she. She has no idea of her heritage"

Elder Ferhat spoke making me inhale sharply and flicker my eyes, indicating his theory.

" The great Habib Khizan never bothered to tell his grandchildren of his doing? Of his cruelty"