Efendi 1: the path to love

Chapter 2. The Story of Three Girls

Ayla was born in a small village on the border of Tanzania and Kenya, where the dawns blushed crimson and life was as simple as the clay bowls in her mother’s hands. They called her "The Smiling Moon," because even as a child, she was quiet, attentive, and always looked just above the horizon – as if searching for something greater.

She loved to dance in the rain, care for the younger children, learn weaving from her grandmother, heal birds, and she knew the names of all the stars.

Ayla was light – but in a world where a girl’s light is often the first thing they try to extinguish.

When she turned 17, her parents decided it was time to marry her off. That was the way – tradition. Time had come, so it must be done.

Not for love.

Not after a heart-to-heart.

But by negotiation.

The Bargain: Between Cattle and Fear Three suitors came to the village. The first – Hamadi, eldest son of a wealthy herdsman. He arrived with five cows, silk fabric, and promises.

But a shadow followed him. “He once struck his own mother,” the women whispered.

“He took a girl from a nearby village – she ran away barefoot in the night. No one has seen her since.”

Ayla saw no love in his eyes – only possession.

And she felt it deep down:

His house would be a prison, no matter how many pillows it had. The second suitor – Baraka, cheerful in public, but with eyes cold as a knife’s edge.

He had proposed three times before. Three times, the girls had refused. “He’s generous,” they said,

“but his word is like the wind – one thing today, another tomorrow.”

He promised her “the city, jewelry, gold,”

but she knew: “A man who sees a woman as decoration will break her the moment he’s bored.”

The third – a widower, forty years her senior.

He already had two wives – one had died, the other had run away.

He didn’t look her in the eyes.

Only at her waist. Her hips. “I need someone who can bear children.”

That was all he said.

Ayla’s Fear Ayla wasn’t afraid of marriage.

She was afraid of losing herself.

Afraid her voice would disappear in someone else’s home,

where no one would ask her what she dreams about at night when she looks at the moon.

She was afraid of a cramped hut with no window,

silent dinners,

words she’d have to say,

smiles she’d have to wear.

Afraid of becoming a background detail in someone else’s life, instead of the heroine of her own.

One night, when Baraka came for dinner, she overheard him say to her father:

“I’ll buy her like I’d buy a good cow. Obedience – that’s what matters.”

Ayla covered her ears – but the words stayed inside like thorns.

A Prayer Beneath the Acacia Tree

That night, she walked to the old acacia tree.

She stood barefoot, placed her palms against its trunk, and whispered: “I don’t ask for riches.

I ask not to be a stranger in my own life.

Let fate bring me someone who sees not my waist,

but the fire in my soul.”

Ayla and the Night Before Fate

Ayla prayed softly.

But the words wouldn't come – only a whisper, like wind through dry grass.

She didn’t know what to do.

Everything around her was uncertain.