The young man awoke to complete darkness. For a moment, he remained still, disoriented, his mind sluggish as it tried to grasp his surroundings. The air in the room was heavy with silence, the kind that felt almost unnatural. Then, with a sudden jolt, he pushed himself upright in bed, his heartbeat quickening.
"Mom," he called out, his voice barely above a whisper.
The absence of an immediate response unsettled him. Instinctively, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up, his bare feet meeting the cool floor. As he moved toward the door, the dim light filtering in from the hallway caught his attention. His mother’s bedroom door was slightly ajar.
A strange feeling settled in his chest—unease, curiosity, something he couldn’t quite place. He hesitated for a second before stepping forward. As he reached out to close the door, his gaze landed on something unusual. Resting on the small wooden table beside the bed was a brown envelope, placed neatly next to what appeared to be an old notebook. The sight of them stirred something deep inside him.
Drawn by an unshakable urge, he approached the table. His fingers brushed against the notebook’s worn cover, and he froze when he noticed a familiar photograph attached to it—a picture of himself as a child, smiling beside his mother. His heart clenched at the sight. Carefully, he picked up both the envelope and the notebook before lowering himself onto the edge of the bed.
He decided to open the envelope first. Inside, he found several documents—two birth certificates, one with his mother’s last name and another with his father’s: Henry Davidson. His brows furrowed as he examined them. Along with the certificates, there was a land title in his name, as well as legal documents detailing multiple properties left to him in another country. The weight of what he was seeing began to sink in. These weren’t just ordinary papers. They were proof of something significant—something he had never been told before.
Setting the envelope aside, he turned his attention to the notebook. He ran his hand over the faded cover before carefully flipping it open. His mother’s familiar handwriting greeted him on the first page. His breath caught in his throat as he read the date at the top:
November 1995
---
Today, I was chatting with my friends while we waited for Grandpa Orhan’s group to return from the farm. Every afternoon, we were assigned to prepare snacks for them—a routine that had become second nature to us. After school, I would go straight to Grandpa Orhan’s house to help him and Grandma Aergul with their daily tasks.
A few minutes later, we spotted the group making their way down the dirt path. But this time, they weren’t alone. A stranger walked alongside them.
He was a tall, strikingly handsome foreigner, dressed in fine clothing that spoke of wealth and status. He appeared to be in his mid-twenties, his confident stride setting him apart from the others.
As they reached us, Grandpa Orhan turned to me. "Erine, come with us inside," he said, his voice firm yet gentle. "There’s something important we need to discuss."
Though puzzled, I nodded and followed them into the house.
Once inside, the guest was seated while I was about to head to the kitchen to assist with the refreshments. However, Grandpa Orhan stopped me with a single command.
"Let your grandmother handle it. Stay here."
I obeyed, though my confusion only deepened.
"Erine, this is Mr. Davidson," Grandpa Orhan introduced him. "He recently purchased the neighboring land—the one with the plantations that the previous owner sold before leaving for another country."
The man, Mr. Davidson, gave me a polite smile and extended his hand. I hesitated for a fraction of a second before shaking it.
"I’m Erine. Erine Arslan," I introduced myself, returning his smile out of courtesy.
Just then, Grandma Aergul arrived, carrying a tray of juice and sandwiches. Mr. Davidson took a glass and sipped from it, his sharp gaze lingering on me. A strange sensation crept over me—something unexplainable, almost like an instinctual warning.
"Do you understand English?" he asked suddenly.
"Yes, a little," I responded cautiously.
His expression darkened slightly, turning serious. "I have a proposal for you."
I blinked, taken aback. "A proposal?"
"I want to entrust that land to you," he stated plainly.
Shock rippled through me. "What?" I blurted out, standing up so abruptly that whispers erupted from those lingering outside the house, curious about what was happening inside. The land he was referring to was massive—how could he possibly want to hand it over to me?
"Perhaps you’re just overwhelmed," I muttered, trying to steady myself.
"Erine, sit down and listen to Henry," Grandma Aergul urged gently, placing a reassuring hand on my shoulder.
Reluctantly, I lowered myself back into my seat, though my mind was racing.
Mr. Davidson cleared his throat before continuing. "Mr. Orhan told me about your situation—that you lost your parents at a young age and that your father entrusted you to their care before he passed away."
I nodded, remaining silent as I listened.
"I also know that you dream of going to college, but given Mr. Orhan’s financial situation, that may not be possible. Your parents’ savings have already been exhausted. I want to offer you something in return—something that will ensure your education at a prestigious university in the city."
I studied his face carefully, searching for any hint of deception.
"In exchange for managing the crops?" I asked cautiously.
"Not just that," Grandpa Orhan interjected, his voice heavier now. "It’s more than just the land and plantations."
My frown deepened. "Then what else?"
For a moment, Orhan hesitated, glancing at Mr. Davidson before finally speaking. "He also wishes to entrust his future heir to you."
I blinked. The words didn’t register at first. "So… besides farming, you want me to be a nanny?" I asked, struggling to make sense of what they were implying.
"Henry isn’t married yet," Grandpa Orhan clarified.
My confusion only grew. "So you want me to take care of your illegitimate child?"
"Not exactly," Orhan replied again, his tone carefully measured.
Frustration built inside me. "Then what exactly are you asking me to do?"
Henry exhaled, his gaze locking onto mine. "I’ll be direct, Erine. I want you to become the mother of my future child."
The room fell into silence. My breath hitched.
"Wait… I just met you, and you’re already asking me to be your wife?" My voice wavered between disbelief and shock.
"Not my wife," Henry corrected calmly. "Just the mother of my child."
I felt my stomach drop. "That’s even worse!"
"I mean… I want you to be a surrogate mother, Erine," he explained. "I want you to carry my heir."
The words sent a wave of dizziness through me. My legs gave out, and I collapsed back into my seat, my mind unable to process the enormity of what had just been said.