Page 45 of The Book of Heartbreak

The burdens we carry sculpt our essence. Pain and loneliness are uniquely personal trials, impossible to share or divide among others. When a soul bears the weight of both, may Allah be compassionate upon them, for they risk betrayal by their own minds or hearts.

Excerpt from The Book of Betrayal, Müneccimbasi Sufi Chelebi’s Journals of Mystical Phenomena

Arda’s words hit me like a blow to the head. My brain whirrs as I try to digest the information.

‘Ozan married Iris?’ I repeat, still unable to believe it. ‘Daphne’s boyfriend left her for her sister?’

‘I don’t think he separated from Defne.’ Arda leans forward, perhaps aware of my shock, but her flare for drama must be greater than her empathy. ‘Perhaps he dated both of them from the start. It happened so quickly and shocked everyone. Your poor, poor mother.’

I feel queasy. Iris, Iris, Iris, Daphne’s voice echoes in my head. Why do you hate me so much? Why are you still haunting me?

I glance at Leon, who looks equally taken aback by the news. He gives me a knowing nod. We both understand what this means. History repeated itself. Theodora stole Eudokia’s lover, and Iris stole Defne’s . . . Does that mean that Daphne is the one who said the beddua and triggered the curse?

I’m so distracted by the buzzing questions in my mind, I almost don’t notice that Arda is still talking.

‘Things got worse after the marriage, though. Daphne told me that Ozan told her that Iris was threatening to kill herself, and that’s how she convinced Ozan to propose.

I don’t know if that’s true, but everything happened with such haste, perhaps it was,’ Arda says.

‘I know Defne begged your grandfather many times to check Iris into some sort of care facility. But your grandfather was . . . traditional. He didn’t believe in that kind of thing. Thought it would cause a scandal . . .’

Muzaffer’s pride is the least of my worries. I still have no idea where the mysterious A, who wrote Daphne those passionate letters, may be, or what happened to my mother.

‘What year—’ I need to quell my nausea and compose myself. Outside, the wind howls like it’s angry on my behalf. ‘What year did they get married?’

‘Oh gosh . . . Let me think.’ Arda puts a finger to her chin. ‘My mum had a hip replacement the year Ozan and Iris tied the knot, so it must have been . . . 2004.’

‘Mum didn’t leave immediately, then?’ I’m thinking out loud, because nothing is making sense.

‘Oh no, she didn’t. And believe me, it wasn’t easy for her, because they all lived in the same house.

It was a total nightmare,’ Arda says. ‘Daphne lost so much weight that summer they married. She wouldn’t eat a morsel.

And the next spring I moved to the island, and we kind of lost touch.

I hadn’t heard from her, not until she wrote to me a couple of years later. ’

‘She wrote to you,’ I say. ‘Before you sent this card?’

‘Yes, it was out of the blue. She told me she was pregnant and asked if she could come and stay with us.’

‘And did you know who the father was?’ I’m perched on the edge of my seat now.

‘No.’ Arda shakes her head sadly. ‘She never told me who it was. She was worried about her father’s reaction. Muzaffer Amca has a reputation, you know – he’s old school and Defne getting pregnant out of wedlock would be . . . inconvenient.’

‘Right,’ I whisper. Of course everything Iris had done would be dismissed without consequences, but the same rule didn’t apply to Daphne.

Why did Muzaffer even let Iris marry the man Daphne loved?

I’m suddenly disgusted by everything and by myself for remaining under Muzaffer’s roof. Where does ‘A’ fit in this picture?

‘Did she have another boyfriend?’ I insist. ‘Someone whose name started with an A?’

‘I don’t know,’ Arda says. ‘I had moved, as I said . . . We grew apart.’

‘Do you at least know why Daphne left Istanbul?’

‘Oh, I’m so sorry but I don’t. I never heard from her again.

She’d already departed when I finally managed to visit after I heard of Iris’s sudden death.

Muzaffer Amca was alone in the house. Poor man looked like he’d aged a hundred years since I’d last seen him.

He told me that Defne had moved to the UK to raise the baby there.

’ Arda blinks, as if she’s only just realised what she is saying. ‘You.’

‘What about Ozan?’ I ask, before she gets too distracted. ‘Did he die too, in the earthquake?’

‘Last I heard, he moved to the European side of Istanbul.’ Arda sighs. ‘Disappeared after Iris died.’

Another dead end.

‘Mum?’ Arda’s daughter peeks in, craning her neck from the doorway without stepping inside. ‘They say there’s a storm coming. The ferries to the mainland have been cancelled.’

‘Shit.’ I bolt upright. ‘But we have to get back.’

‘You can’t.’ Arda sighs. ‘They’re tight on procedure when it comes to storms. You’ll have to stay the night.’

Arda serves us a humble dinner. Despite having no appetite, I don’t refuse, just to be polite. Things take a mortifying turn when she leads us to the guest room, though.

‘I only have one room,’ Arda says. ‘Big bed, though, so it should be okay.’

When I glance at Leon, he looks as horrified as I feel.

‘No problem.’ I smile, because I’d rather throw myself out of the window than cause more problems for this woman who has already shown more than enough kindness to two strangers turning up at her door.

When we’re alone, an awkward silence sits between Leon and me, powered by the howling wind and rain outside.

Perhaps if I wasn’t so disturbed by my mother’s fucked-up family history, I’d feel a sliver of excitement at the prospect of spending the night alone with him, but right now I’m only numb.

‘You take the bed,’ Leon says, breaking the awkward silence. ‘I’ll sleep in the armchair.’

We both avoid glancing towards the double bed, pretending it isn’t the most prominent object in the room.

‘No – I can make a bed on the floor for myself,’ I insist, gesturing at the blankets piled at the foot of the bed.

‘It’s me who dragged you here, and I’ll feel awful if you spend the night cramped up in an armchair.

’ I refrain from pointing out the obvious mismatch of his towering height against the size of the chair.

‘How about I let you set up a bed on the floor for me to sleep on,’ Leon proposes. ‘But you take the bed. I can’t stand the thought of you sleeping on the floor, Silverbirch. My inner gentleman won’t allow it.’

‘Fine,’ I sigh and grab the blankets, then crouch down to arrange them in the gap between the wall and the bed – a space that’s hardly ample.

As I smooth out the folds, it strikes me how close Leon and I will lie next to each other tonight, separated only by the height difference between the makeshift bed and the actual one. Barely an arm’s length apart.

Fuck, what is wrong with me? I’ve just learned harrowing secrets about my mother and her sister, and here I am blushing like an idiot.

With each passing second, the silence weighs heavier on my shoulders. When I’m finally satisfied with the layers I’ve made on the floor, I rise to my feet again.

‘You told me that all the women in your family are cursed to die young.’ Leon makes a face. ‘Were you entirely honest? Listening to Iris and Daphne’s story, it feels like it’s more personal than that.’

‘I-I—’ I stammer, plumping a pillow, then dropping it to the ground.

Leon watches me with that piercing stare again. ‘We’re supposed to be in this together. You need to be truthful.’

‘Okay,’ I confess, my heart pounding in my chest. I just can’t take it any more; I have no energy to tell another lie. ‘You’re right. I lied.’

This is the moment he’ll abandon you, Sare, I ready myself. He’ll leave you now. He’ll see how damaged you are, how broken.

‘You lied.’ Leon nods, seemingly surprised, although not with my revelation, but that I dropped my guard without a fight. He steps towards me so that we’re only inches apart.

I lift my hand and press my finger gently against his mouth.

His lips are soft, but his unshaven chin is prickly against my skin.

His breath is warm and I feel it quicken.

I distract him, just as he distracts me, I realise in that moment, as the air between us charges with the touch we both seem unable to break.

‘I know you want to learn everything about the curse, so that you can understand it. But you must also understand—’ I pause.

‘That I can’t speak of it. I can’t speak of what it does to me.

No matter how much I want to, no matter how hard it is to bear alone – I just can’t.

’ I drop my voice to a whisper. ‘Please don’t ask me to. ’

As I withdraw my hand, the warmth of his lips remains on my skin like a candle flame, not with the searing pain of the scars on my palm when they burn, but a gentle, inviting sensation that yearns for more.

‘I’m sorry . . .’ I back away towards the bed.

‘And now what?’ Leon sounds agitated. ‘You’ll go to sleep to avoid me?’

‘We need to rest,’ I say firmly.

Please, I pray. Please don’t ask me again.

‘Don’t you think there’s anything else we should discuss?’ His eyes hold a peculiar glint. ‘After everything?’

I’m unable to look at him. I’m too ashamed of myself, of my lies, of my feelings.

‘Silverbirch.’ He speaks through his teeth. ‘Look at me.’

I shut my eyes. I’m exhausted. Not from running around all day trying to find answers, but from getting them. Just like Munu said, I headed into the darkness, and now I have no light. I shouldn’t have disturbed Mum’s past. But it’s too late. I’m too deep in it, and it’s all fucked up.

‘I’m sorry. I messed up, okay?’ I hate how weak I sound, as I step backwards towards the bed. ‘I wish I could give you all the answers about the curse, but I can’t.’

But Leon seems to have other troubles. I hear him shuffle about and when I gingerly open my eyes, he’s towering above me.