So this is what I have been working on for the past two months:
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
By request of my dear bestie @payidaresque <3 (It's the first time I write for a friend as opposed to writing for a general audience and it was pretty amazing!)
Here's a snippet of the story:
A late summer wind swept across the yellow flower fields that spread around Edip Payidar's estate. It carried the smell of distant rain and a soft chill, heralding the arrival of the colder seasons.
Efnan thought that she would soon have to retrieve the blankets from their summer storage.
For now, though, the weather was bearable enough for her to feel comfortable in her cerulean dress with its short frilled sleeves and white ribbon belt, as she lay among reminiscences of her mother, her hands behind her back, head turned towards the dipping sun.
Or, at least, as comfortable as she could get.
She lowered her gaze, a furrow shaping between her brows.
She needed her. Now, more than ever. That's what you always say, Efnan, a voice in her argued. And indeed, in all her life, there hadn't been a time that she hadn't craved her mother's presence less than vigorously. But still, it was different now.
Slowly, with a gentleness she had only recently discovered in herself—only since a few days ago, in fact—she shifted her weight onto one hand, and brought the other to her stomach.
Almost immediately, her face lit with a smile.
"Look at all these flowers, huh? The poor things, they'll only have less than nine months to enjoy their beauty, because afterwards, they will have you to compete with. Little unfair, isn't it? Since you've already won?"
Her smile grew wider, her fingers smoothing the folds across the material of her gown, as she rubbed her belly.
"Efnan, kuzum —"
The voice came abruptly behind her. Her hand flew away from her stomach at once, but it was too late.
Azime gasped, and then she shrieked . Before Efnan could do anything to reverse the moment, the housekeeper was running to her, kneeling on the ground beside her, taking her hand in hers, and crying .
"Aye, my Efnan, what happiness you've brought me! You're going to make old Azime a grandmother so young! Aye, kuzum …"
"Shh, Azime, keep quiet!" Efnan hissed amidst the older woman's rambling, her eyes moving frantically towards the enormous estate behind her.
Aziz could be back any minute.
Azime kept on her stream of joyous exclamations, until Efnan anxiously placed her palm on the other woman's mouth. She held her friend's gaze pleadingly.
"Please, Azime, I haven't told Aziz yet."
After a moment, the older woman drew back from her hand, a chastised expression on her face.
"Ah," she said in a loud whisper, also glancing towards the house. "Forgive me, my Efnan," she said, then smacked her own hand. "Oh, silly old Azime almost ruined the surprise her ladyship prepared for Mr. Aziz!" A smile glowed on her face. "Oh, he's going to go insane, Efnan!"
Efnan's gaze moved downwards, unable to hide the guilt that shaped there. The other woman slowly fell quiet, her brows knitting in concern, as realization sank in.
"You're not planning to tell him, are you?" The judgment in her voice was not at all subtle.
