"Regret is insight that comes a moment too late."
— Unknown
My biggest regret was never returning to finish school.
After all the drama of the first few years, I'd been too frightened to bring it up with the minister,and he'd never suggested it either.
And with each passing year, I felt less and less inclined. The thought of peering with people growing progressively younger than me had no appeal whatsoever.
Generally, I had grown accustomed to my life. It wasn't the best, but I had become comfortable with it. I wasn't losing out on anything.
Or so I thought.
It was Christmas of 2003, the year I turned 23. As was our habit, I accompanied the minister for a high society wedding in france.
The son of Dr. Steven, the owner of the only hospital in Boston, was marrying a girl from another esteemed medical family in the UK.
It had been just like any other high society political wedding, but the moment I clapped eyes on the bride and groom, I knew I was missing something.
They were both extremely good. looking, and I spent more than a few moments staring at the groom, Matthew.
I could remember seeing him in the mosque a few times in years past, mainly during Ramadan periods. Lean, tall, and bespectacled, he looked like America very own version of Clark Kent, nerdy but insanely attractive.
His bride, Sophia, was also tall and equally stunning.
With her glossy dark skin, she looked like a supermodel. But that wasn't what enraptured me.
As the couple danced their first dance to a Stevie Wonder song, I watched as they looked deep into each other's eyes, mouthing along the words of the song.
At a point, both their noses touched, and I felt an ache in my heart, longing for what they had.
It was at that moment, that very moment, that I realised just what I had given up, what I had sacrificed. I found myself longing for that same kind of love.
On the drive back home, I hummed the tune of the song, still lost in the fantasy of what it would be like to love and be loved like that.
"Please stop that irritating sound!" the minister retorted, snapping me out of my reverie.
I smiled, so lost in my daydream that I couldn't even be angered. "It was such a lovely wedding, don't you think? Matthew and his wife make a lovely couple."
The minister gave me a sideways glance before chuckling. "Are you having any ideas? Hoping to one day find your own Prince Charming?"
I sat up, hating myself for being so transparent. "Of course not," I lied. "Just stating the obvious, that's all."
"They are both medical doctors, did you know? From what I hear, the girl is razor sharp. She finished first in her class at Harvard," he said, a taunting smile on his face. "That's how young men these days like their women; intelligent and well-schooled. Being beautiful is no longer enough."
And he left it there. The devil of a man just left it there. He didn't need to say any more words. He had clearly made his point.
The tune out of my head, I turned away and remained quiet for the remainder of the trip, hating him but hating myself even more, wishing I could be brave enough to just leave.
He at least had his bed warmer waiting for him back home.
I had nobody, and probably never would.
But those thoughts were soon to take a very secondary seat.
Driving into the compound, as we approached the house, there was a cluster of people gathered in front. I thought nothing of this, as it wasn't unusual for the minister to have people waiting for him at any time of the day.
But when I recognised, first my Uncle Mathias, and then my Uncle Cyprian, I had a sinking feeling in my stomach.
"What are you all doing here? Why have you chartered everyone from your town and brought them to my house? This isn't a market square!" the minister barked, as he disembarked from the car.
He had done away with niceties with my relatives a long time ago, and now regarded them the same way he did me, as scum of the earth Uncle Mathias answered. "I hope your journey back home was fine."
As I got out of the car, looking at my relatives, I recognized the look they had in their eyes. It was the same look they had when he and his companions came to see me the day my mother died.
"Who is it?" I asked, my eyes already searching. "Is it papa or aunty glamour?"
My favourite aunt had been down with a strange ailment for over two years. The disease had ravaged her, making her a mere shadow of her former self.
Uncle Mathias shook his head. "glamour is in a very bad state, but she is still alive," he cast an imploring look at the minister. "can we speak with you alone?"
"Look, I don't have time for this nonsense. If you have anything to tell her, tell her yourself," he retorted.
I was expecting him to storm into the house if he was as uninterested as he wanted it to appear, but instead, he remained there.
Uncle Mathias nodded in acceptance before turning to me. "zeynep, let us go inside. It's not right for us to talk outside."
One of my other uncles chimed, clearly unimpressed with the reception they'd been accorded. "Tell her, so we can leave this place."
"Uncle, who is it?" I repeated to Uncle Mathias, grabbing his hand.
He sighed deeply. "It is your brother, Orion passed away yesterday morning."
I stepped back, as if he'd physically struck me. No, it couldn't be so. Not my brother, Not the one for whom I'd sacrificed my whole life for in the first place. Not him.
It had to be a joke.