In truth, he should be thanking Damir for switching places—not resenting him. Damir read all this in his eyes—and his heart softened. Before parting, he placed a hand on Samad’s shoulder, gave him a brotherly pat, and wished him goodnight—as if he really were his younger brother.

The next morning, Aaliya quietly slipped into Damir’s room, eager for just a glimpse of her beloved. He heard her voice as she chatted with his mother, and soon the scent of her perfume announced that she was standing at the door. Without opening his eyes, he reached out a hand toward her. Aaliya hesitated, then sat down on the edge of the bed. He was covered with only a sheet down to his bare chest—more tempting than anyone she had ever seen, even in pictures. But her upbringing didn’t allow her to stare, even though he had been her fiancé for almost six months.

She sat silently, hands folded, smiling shyly.

“I’m covered,” Damir said with a husky voice, pulling the sheet higher up to his neck. Though from the knees down, his muscular legs were exposed. He took her hand.

“How are you, my baby?”

“I’m fine, thank you. And you?” she murmured, still not turning her head.

“Look at me,” he asked gently.

She couldn’t disobey her future husband and turned her eyes toward him, her cheeks burning with blush.

Damir laughed—he adored her modesty, such a rare quality these days.

“Today I plan to ask your parents to let you come with me to Canada. Maybe we’ll even get married in a hurry.”

Her eyes widened, and she flushed even deeper. Damir couldn’t resist anymore. He sat up and pulled her close. His lips found hers, and with a firm motion, he parted them with his tongue, kissing her deeply. Waves of sweetness shot through her body.

She missed him terribly. Damir knew she had been madly in love with him since childhood. Now, at twenty-five, she longed for his kisses and touches just as much as he did for hers. They had kissed before, but always carefully. Now his passion overflowed.

His hands caressed her back and hips, slowly driving her into ecstasy. His lips moved from her mouth to her neck—and when she moaned, he returned to her lips, whispering, “Shhh.” He smiled at her closed eyes and kissed her again. What felt like an eternity later, he finally released her. Her lips were swollen, her head spinning. She stood and adjusted her scarf and hair, nearly stumbling. He watched her, barely holding himself back from pulling her into his arms again. The sheet had slipped completely off, baring his muscular torso. When she noticed, she turned away and covered her face. He laughed quietly, leaning his head back. Then he stood, wrapped himself in the sheet again, and approached her from behind. He kissed her softly on the neck and whispered in her ear, “Soon you’ll be my wife… and I’ll be your husband. Do you know what that means?”

Over a late breakfast, Damir officially introduced his fiancée to the new family.

They decided that tomorrow they would all go to her home to ask for her hand in marriage and discuss the wedding and details. Emine, while still in Canada, had already anticipated this and discussed it with the family. Zulfiya, on the other hand, was embarrassed—she didn’t have the financial means for such an event and bit her lip anxiously.

After the meal, Damir took his Tatar mother aside and said:

“Mom, now that I’ve returned to my blood family, Father has opened a bank account for me. I have money—don’t worry. It’s enough to take care of everything right now.” She looked at him nervously, then over his shoulder at the others. He sighed, searching for the right words to reassure her.