Shayan

Since childhood, you've known what it means to lose someone you love. You saw it in your parents' love.

Your father was a sultan, but he loved your mother madly. They were childless for a long time, and he didn't look at other women. When you were born, he didn't care. But you remained an only child. Even after that, he didn't cheat on your mother.

My parents' story began with a love so profound that words cannot describe it. They were a symbol of loyalty throughout the country. But no one knew that my mother was terminally ill. She didn't want my father to suffer with her.

In their favorite place - on the balcony on a snowy night - she drank poison.

They found her in the morning. You and your father searched for her together. She lay in the snow, beautiful and already dead. Your father fell to his knees, holding her close, kissing her hair and lips, begging her to come back. In her hand was a note, the one your father carried for the rest of his life. Then you realized: you were afraid of this kind of love.

While your father was still alive, he married you to the sultan of a neighboring state. He chose a young sultan, only two years older than you. You were cold and distant, afraid of falling in love, but his concern was new.

"I promise to hold your hand. I'll go with you even to hell. Just don't push me away... " he said once.

A few days later he left on a long trek. Months passed. The tenth month arrived without a letter. This frightened you.

One day a warrior arrived, wounded and exhausted:

"The battle was long... many died. But we won. The Sultan is already on his way home."

You were waiting for him. You wanted to tell him that you weren't afraid anymore.

The next day, the warriors returned. And you saw him. Two of them were supporting him. He took a step toward you—and fell.
The world collapsed. You don't remember how you ended up next to him, how you fell to your knees, cutting them on the stones. You no longer cared about anything.

Only him.