The smell of roasted coffee filled the air of Fildişi kahve stall as gentle murmurs of conversation flowed down the place. Many conversed, some kept to themselves. Overall, it was the perfect day and weather for a quick cup.
Among the tables sat Ayse Azra across Nur Hakan, her husband. Her delicate, polished fingers tapped at the table in an absent-minded manner. Prompting him to gaze at her, his icy blues searched for her face. His jaw softened as he leaned in.
My...my, she looked stunning as always. His eyes fell to the captivating folds of her chiffon veil, how her nimble hand clasped the cup Infront of her. She gently wiped her lips with the tissue.
How perfect... a dreamy murmur left him.
She then glanced up--her breath hitching slightly at their closeness. "Why are we here, Hakan?" He tilts head, not even pausing for a beat, I... his voice trails off, then he cleared his throat.
"I have a meeting at Cappadocia by tomorrow I should be there"--He paused, seeing her eyes fall, "it seems that you wanted to let me know of this... she murmurs, "well, I appreciate your notice, if this all then, I will be going"
Ayse rose to her feet, leaving a wad of cash-clutching at her purse as she turned. Though--Ayse... his voice made her stop as she then turned to see him. He ushered her to sit, "I'm not going alone"
Her brows creased, "We are going together"
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Ding* the seatbelt button turns on, as Ayse returns to the laptop to her front. Her warm browns reading through the emails as she then flicks on airplane mode. With a half-breath sigh, she pats the device down. Leaning further in her seat--her eyes then flickered to Nur in her left.
Her brows furrowed, he was reading--with glasses. She tilts her head, as she took in his frame, he seemed more mature, more composed. She glances at the book he clutched; veiny palm traced over the passage as if to breathe the words.
Ayse too sweeps her eyes over the book, her face turned a shade of pink, he was reading a fricking smut-scene. And... he even seemed to be focused on it--not even glancing away for a blink.
This dude... her breath hitched. Like really? next to her? she internally scoffs--mature my a--His eyes fluttered to her direction. Ayse quickly shuts up, she let her head drop to her side as if to fake sleep.
Nur stared at her, the tension in his chiseled jaw sharpening as he gazed at Ayse to his left. His breath failed, eyes held something far beyond just words. He then tilts his head, dropping the book on his lap with a thud as he leans in.
Ayse's pulse quickened, W-What the heckHakan? * Her internally. Nur came in closer, letting his fingers hover over her face, then his cold flesh grazed at her cheek so faintly, it barely felt like a touch.
She seemed to be asleep* his warm breath fanned against her neck as the image of Eylul played over him. How they had never had a honeymoon.
Nur! Eylul dragged her gloved hands with his. As if like a child, she gazed at the single swing. Nur shot her an amused look as if to ask, really? Though looking on to her marble orbs, he let her lead him to the swing.
It was a rustic, wooden one--made by a fine craftsman, since it looked old. Eylul seated herself, her hands clutched on to both side of the rope which was supported by an enormous oak tree.
Nur ghosted over her back, he leaned in, letting her be enveloped in his scent, "How high you want to go?" he asks. As High as you can! she says giddily. Nur then leans in closer, brushing a strand of her, "As you wish, my heartthrob" she giggles at his name for her as he then tugs her to the front.
Soon, Eylul was up, she squealed as he abruptly stops it. He then leans in further, one hand effortlessly finding her waist as the other clutched on to the ropes. He then dipped his head and pressed her fervently against his chest.
Eylul didn't protest, she simply raked her eyes over him, fingers tracing his well-built shoulder blade. Their closeness made the elders shake their heads, they murmured, "Kids" as they walked away. Some even gazed at one another, as the remanence of their fiery past flashed through.
Though that flame of love had subdued to time--and it may as well never return, yet one can only hope--and hope is indeed for the desperate.
Nur the retreated as he slumped back in his seat, gazing at the window, pinching the bridge of his nose as he heavily breathed.
That was who he was, a flame that had faded away--or worse, stripped away, never to be lit again.
He never will...