Ayşe shrugs, placing her hand under her chin. “So it's up to me now.”

Zeynel says empathetically, “Sounds hard. But you seem to have it together.”

Ayşe sighs again. “Yeah, I guess. I believe in this dream. I know it’s feasible… but to actually realise it? That’s the hard part. That’s why baba advised I marry, so I'll have a business partner to assist me. It'll make the move to Istanbul easier. It isn’t a bad advice, which is why I’m doing it now.”

Zeynel chews on this information. It makes pragmatic sense. At the same time, he feels awe, admiration even, at the way this young woman is able to know who she is and what she wants, and to do anything she can to make it manifest. So he tells her, “It’s awesome how you are so sure of your life. I admire your drive.”

That is so sweet of him, she thinks. She attempts to continue the conversation, but he interjects, a little too quickly:

“Anyway! What sort of clients do you normally have? I bet you’ve some funny stories… “

Ayşe can tell it’s a diversion. She calls him out, “Oy! What about you? I want to know your story, too!"

Zeynel panics. This is the worst part about having a conversation, when the other party remembers that a dialogue is a two-way street, and that he shouldn’t be left out of the privilege of talking. That is the problem. He is very good at listening. He loves listening. But talking? Oh no.