Nurin POV
Elysium Art Residence Bomonti (Reception)
I walked down the aisle toward the reception area, feeling a bit more at ease than earlier—especially after Mr. Husaam reassured me that everyone at the hotel speaks English.
As I glanced toward the reception desk, I noticed a young woman waiting for me with a warm smile. She gave a polite nod as I approached. When I reached the counter, she greeted me with a cheerful “Marhaba.” I smiled back and returned her greeting with a grateful “thank you.”
She then asked, “What can I do for you, ma’am?” I rested my arms on the counter and replied, “I’m here for my reservation.”
“Alright, ma’am. May I have your name and passport, please? You’re visiting as a tourist?”
“Yes, I am. My name is Nurin Imad. Here’s my passport. Your hotel is lovely, and everyone’s been so welcoming.”
I handed her my Malaysian passport with a smile.
While she was focused on her screen, typing away and handling whatever she needed to do, I kept myself occupied by admiring the hotel’s interior. My eyes wandered over the ceiling, the floor, the lighting fixtures, and even the furniture—everything looked so elegant and thoughtfully designed.
Then I heard her voice: “According to our records, you’re booked to stay for one month. Normally, we don’t offer promotions during this season, but since your stay is a full month, you actually qualify for a special offer.”
“Oh? What kind of promo?” I asked, curious.
“Not every guest is eligible for this—you’re one of the lucky ones. Based on your visa, which is valid for three months, you’re allowed to stay up to that long. So we’re offering you an extra two months here at the hotel, completely free of charge.”
I was a bit stunned at first, but once I collected myself, I smiled and muttered in disbelief, “Really? Are you serious? That’s so generous of you. It’s actually free?”
She nodded and replied warmly, “Yes, so you can truly enjoy your time here in Istanbul. Here’s your key. We hope you have a wonderful stay, and don’t hesitate to call our landline if you need anything. Thank you.”
I took the key and headed to the elevator, pressing the button for the 11th floor while the bellboy stood beside me. To ease the silence, I blurted out whatever was on my mind at the moment: “So, I assume you speak English too. This place is really nice—better than some world-class hotels I’ve seen.”
He responded with a warm smile and said, “Thank you, ma’am. Our guests’ comfort and safety are our top priorities. Enjoy your stay here in Istanbul.”
Everyone at the hotel has been so friendly and welcoming—it’s clear that Turkey is home to some of the kindest people you could ever meet.
When we arrived on the 11th floor, I followed the bellboy down the hallway to my room. Even the hallway was impressive. Every detail in this place is surprisingly beautiful—there’s not a single corner that doesn’t leave you in awe.
He stopped in front of room 112, then stepped aside and gestured toward the door, silently indicating that we had arrived at my room. I caught the key mid-air after tossing it once more in my hand, then turned to face the door. I inserted the key into the lock, and as soon as I opened it, a strong, sweet scent of roses filled the air—it was as if the whole room had been bathed in floral perfume.
I stepped inside, taken aback by how stunning and luxurious the room was. It was beautiful—no doubt about that—but it didn’t feel familiar. This wasn’t the room I remembered reserving when I booked online. As much as I appreciated the ambiance, I couldn’t help but feel confused. Curious, I turned to the bellboy, my face clearly showing surprise, and said, “Uh, I think there might be a mix-up in your system. This isn’t the room I paid for—this is too much. I booked…”
Before I could finish, he gave me a calm smile and replied, “Ma’am, if you’d like, you can call the reception to confirm. I’m just here to deliver your things.” I nodded and walked over to the living room area to find the telephone.
I pressed the number 1 to connect with the reception. The line rang for a moment before a familiar voice picked up: “Good morning, this is Elysium Art Residence Bomonti. How may I assist you?”
“Hi, this is Miss Nurin Imad from room 112. We spoke earlier about the promo. I just wanted to ask—was this room part of that promotion? I originally booked a Residence Single Room, not a Deluxe One-Bedroom Apartment. I think there may have been a mistake, and I can’t afford to cover any additional charges.”
The woman on the other end let out a small laugh and replied, “Actually, this isn’t part of the promo. But since all our Residence Single Rooms are fully booked, we had to upgrade your room. And regarding the cost—don’t worry. Since it was our oversight in managing the bookings, the extra charges are on us.”
I paused, taking a moment to process what I had just heard. Then I heard her voice again, checking in: “Ms. Imad, are you still there?”
“Yes, I’m still here,” I replied.
“Is there anything else I can assist you with, ma’am?” she asked politely.
“Nothing, I just wanted to confirm,” I said before hanging up the phone. I walked over to the living area and turned to the bellboy. “Ah, sir. Thank you—everything’s all good now.” He gave me a polite nod and quietly stepped out of the room.
As soon as I heard the door close, I slipped off my backpack and tossed it onto the bed. Then, without thinking, I flopped down beside it. Lying there, I looked up and couldn’t help but admire the stunning chandelier hanging right above me.
But I quickly reminded myself to stop getting lost in admiration—the room, the chandelier, even the bed that felt so soft it was like floating on water… or maybe it really was a waterbed.
“Okay, Nurin, that’s enough. Istanbul, here I come!” I said to myself. I jumped up from the bed, grabbed my bag, picked up the room key, and dashed out the door, ready to explore.