“Aylin Aydın,” Emre said, his voice carrying through the space. “Fifteen years ago, you made a claim in this courtyard. Today, I’m the one asking. Will you marry the boy next door?”
I looked at the balconies, at the dust on the ground, and finally at the man who had been my North Star for more than half my life. I didn’t cry this time. I smiled, a bright, triumphant thing.
“I told you once, Emre,” I said, loud enough for every curious neighbor to hear. “I won’t marry anyone else.”
The courtyard didn’t explode with laughter this time. Instead, a cheer broke out from the balconies. The aunties clapped, the kids whistled, and for a moment, time collapsed. I wasn’t just a successful executive or a girl with a plan. I was home.
As Emre slid the ring onto my finger, he leaned down to whisper in my ear.
“By the way,” he murmured, “I checked the fine print on that crayon contract you gave me.”
“And?” I asked, laughing.
“It has a ‘no-exit’ clause,” he grinned, pulling me into a kiss that tasted of lemon ice cream and destiny. “You’re stuck with the CEO for life.”
