Chapter 1 – The Engagement Photo

At 8:40 on a Tuesday morning in Modena, twenty-year-old Sara Demir was standing behind the counter of a small bakery, placing almond biscuits into paper bags.

Outside, scooters moved through light rain.

Inside, the espresso machine hissed every few minutes while commuters came in for coffee before work.

Sara had worked there for eleven months.

She liked the routine.

Opening the shutters.

Counting change.

Knowing which customers wanted cappuccino without foam.

Her manager, Lucia, liked her because she was quiet, punctual and rarely asked to swap shifts.

That morning, however, Sara checked her phone every few minutes.

At 9:07, a message appeared from her mother.

Come home after work. Your uncle is coming.

Sara read it twice.

Then deleted the notification.

Lucia noticed.

“Everything okay?”

“Yes.”

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Sara smiled.

“Family stuff.”

Lucia nodded.

She did not ask more.

At twenty, Sara had learned that “family stuff” usually stopped questions.

That evening, six people were sitting in her parents’ apartment.

Her father, Cemal.

Her mother, Leyla.

Her older brother, Murat.

Her uncle and aunt.

And a man Sara had met only twice.

His name was Emre.

Twenty-seven.

He worked with his uncle in logistics.

Tea had already been poured when Sara entered.

On the coffee table sat a box of pastries.

Her mother smiled too quickly.

“Come. Sit.”

Sara looked at Emre.

Then at her father.

“What is this?”

Nobody answered immediately.

Her uncle smiled.

“Good news.”

Sara did not sit.

“What good news?”

Her mother patted the sofa beside her.

“Sara.”

“Just tell me.”

Her father finally spoke.

“Emre’s family has formally asked.”

Sara felt her stomach tighten.

“For what?”

Murat looked at her as though the question itself were embarrassing.

“You know what.”

Sara did know.

She still wanted somebody to say it.

Her father did.

“For marriage.”

Sara laughed once.

Nobody else did.

“I don’t want to marry him.”

Emre lowered his eyes.

Her uncle shifted in his chair.

Her mother whispered:

“Not like this.”

Sara looked around.

“You invited everyone before asking me?”

Her father leaned forward.

“We have discussed this.”

“You discussed it.”

“You met him.”

“Twice.”

“That is why families meet.”

“I said I wasn’t interested.”

Her mother looked toward Emre’s family photographs on a phone screen.

“Sara, enough.”

“No. Why is everyone sitting here as I’ve already said yes?”

Her father answered calmly.

“Because sometimes young people do not immediately understand what is good for them.”

That sentence stayed with Sara.

Not because he shouted it.

Because he didn’t.