The serene hum of conversations enveloped the ceramic walls of Savas'ın gurmesi restaurant as waiters in crisp black attire guided the customers in. With a small smile that tugged at their lips, their mannerism highlighted the grand place.
As among the tables sat by the Kaplan's. Unnoticeable among the crowds of the other elites yet undeniably well dressed. Ayse Azra Yildiz was beside her father, the lavender edges of her dress pooled over her legs as kept her head low. Fingers absent mindedly grazed at the eloquent Victorian style that she wore. Her then eyes fell to the floor as her delicate fingers tapped at her thighs. She sat among her father and Mr. Ali who gave both an awkward smile. He knew... the time was ticking by.
Burak sat, hands clutching at a newspaper. Though his eyes were to the clock, feeling his frustration grew as his patience slipped by his finger like sand.
The withering man gazed at Burak, then at his watch as his brows creased. "He should be here"... he murmured, raising to his feet as he then excused himself. "I will see to this"
Burak nodded rigidly as Ali retreated, pressing a phone to his ears. Ayse her eyes then flickered to her father. The same blues yet one in defiance another demanding submission. Her rosy lips then dropped in a pout, "he is serious about this" a though washed over her.
Seconds rolled by yet nothing... Ayse snapped, without a thought she got up earning a glare from Burak. Pushing in her chair, " I'm going to the washroom" she stated.
Burak gave her nod, then returned to his newspaper, sighing heavily as a waiter then came by, asking whether he needs anything.
He shot her a look that was enough to make anyone falter, "Right...I will be back if you need anything" the green-eyed woman replied as she walked away awkwardly from him. Vanishing into the crowd.
What a great way to start this procedure...? a thought hung yet he brushed it off, feeling the same impatience that his daughter showed.
Then the front door clicked as droves of whispers fell. Some just watched perplexed by the utter presence of the man that just entered. Burak turned his head over to the direction of the commotion. His brows shot up as he saw him,
Deniz Hakan Nur... a murmur left his lips.
Nur stood by alike a pale carved figure, his eyes-the same sapphire ones that all the Kaplan's shared--only the dirty blonde hair which he had inherited from his mother distinguished him from them. He stood as if the word "costly" isn't enough to describe his attire. As his gloved coated hands tugged at the chic, timeless drench coat he wore. Nur's hooded gaze darted among the crowds, not paying any a glance.
His eyes flickered as Ali came from behind. A warm smile formed at his lips as he guided the young man to the table.
The two met and conversed. Giving greetings to one another. "Thank you for waiting on me, I appreciate it"... Burak nodded, "of course, it seems that have to go through many of these delays in the future"... Nur shot him a grueling look--Burak returned it back to him. Ali let out a dry cough, feeling the temperature raise as he placed a hand above Nur's back.
Nur... stop, don't be provoked...
Though Nur's brows arched "Well, patience is needed for certain things... don't you think... mister? Burak's lips curled, he recognized that. "Patience is required... which is something you don't have"... Emre had said to Burak. His brows arched as if to mean every single word.
Burak now watched a young version of his now deceased rival, "Welcome back Emre"...
Nur slightly frowned as Burak then stood up as he then extended his arms. "Let's peacefully do this" Nur gazed at him for a second or two, then he shook hands with him, "I hope so"...
To be continued>>>>>>>>>>>>>>