Ava shook her head at Orhan’s response, her lips curling into a gentle smile. “Don’t apologise,” she insisted. “I was only curious.” It intrigued her the way he slipped so easily to and from one tongue to another. She had never met anyone who spoke another language, and the whole idea seemed so exotic and fascinating. She did not mind it at all. If anything, it made the conversation all the more interesting. The tone grew more sombre then, however, as Orhan offered his own response to the question. The hesitation in his words betrayed the pain that he had suffered, and Ava’s heart swelled for him within her chest. She had always felt for others almost as deeply as herself, and it saddened her to think of this man sad, even though she barely knew him. “That is too much sadness for one so young,” she replied, her voice soft. At least her children had had some time with her and their fathers. For that she was grateful, as well as all the rest of the good things that had interspersed her many tragedies. There was silence for a moment then, until suddenly Orhan’s expression seemed to come to life and he focused on her again. Ava’s big, green eyes widened as she listened, but she was pleasantly surprised rather than shocked. She thought about it for a moment, but no more than that – she had always been impulsive, and her newfound freedom was refreshing. “I think I’d like that,” she said, smiling up at him. “Thank you.” |