At the feast table, Leila was the epitome of calmness. She looked at the abundance laid out before her but did not eat or drink. For such an occasion as a wedding, Ahmed had ordered the museum's ancient imperial gold service, a gift from the Emir, and the guests reverently partook from this service, feeling themselves among the world's elite.

In bed, Aman-Jalil was pleasantly surprised to find she was still a virgin. True, her expertise raised some doubts, but Aman-Jalil had known since childhood how girls could engage in sex while remaining virgins… Therefore, he proudly displayed the sheets with fresh bloodstains to the assembled guests, provoking a wave of delight and another reason for new toasts and libations.

Out of habit more than curiosity, when he returned to duty, Aman-Jalil requested information on his wife from the capital's archives. The information stunned him. The report listed numerous romantic liaisons of Leila's, but those were trivial; what truly astounded Aman-Jalil was that a year ago, Leila had officially married, registering her union in the capital out of great love, severing all her numerous romantic ties.

Aman-Jalil tasked his agent-doctor to visit all clinics, and within a day, a frightened surgeon stood before Aman-Jalil, begging for mercy.

– If Ahmed finds out, I won't escape Bibir Island.

– They don't exile the dead! – Aman-Jalil replied mysteriously.

The broken doctor spilled everything to him right away: how he performed surgery on Leila, making her a virgin again. For some reason, the surgeon began to boast about the staggering fee, but Aman-Jalil cut him off and kicked him out of the office, yelling unexpectedly:

– Get out, you sanctimonious prick, or I'll turn you into a boy!

Ahmed's betrayal stung Aman-Jalil deeply. He had been ready to marry Ahmed's mistress, only to be deceived about his own daughter. The world of men worked in strange ways.

Returning from their honeymoon brought another disappointment: his wife was expecting a child.

– A pregnant virgin! – Aman-Jalil whispered to himself in disbelief. What could be more absurd…

Gulshan fell into depression. She took Aman-Jalil's marriage hard. Before their trip to the Azores, he had spent an entire day with her, tender and tireless. Something about Aman-Jalil's disappointed face held her back from asking how his wife compared.

With Aman-Jalil gone, everything began to fall apart. And then her stepfather started paying too much attention, trying to barge into her room when she was changing clothes. He stared through the window when she forgot to draw the curtain between the toilet and the bath. Her mother was jealous, lashing out over trifles. The atmosphere in the house became unbearable. Only the old master walked around, oblivious to everything except his son. Lately, he had been dreaming of the boy, reaching out to him with a smile…

Gulshan started drinking, crying like a child. She felt sorry for herself. She had fallen in love with the cognac brought to the local chief. And she liked it so much that one day, she got drunk, passed out, and fell asleep in a chair.

Her stepfather, finding her in such a convenient state, took advantage of the opportunity. He carried her to the bedroom, undressed her hurriedly, and took her with a joy comparable to a thirsty traveler finding an oasis in the desert. Though Gulshan was insensible, she still experienced a kind of ecstatic pleasure.

In the early morning, the exhausted chauffeur fell asleep. Gulshan woke to his loud snoring. She stared at her stepfather through blurry eyes, her head pounding, mouth dry, thoughts confused. Then her husband's father walked into the room.