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MidReal Story
The Kingfisher
Scenario:Название: Зимародок
Напиши рассказ про Зимородка. Есть фильм про Зимородка. Это турецкий фильм. Там в главных ролях: Ферми Корхан из Стамбула. Все семья Корзанов. Дедушка Хали, он управляет самой большой компаниие в Стабуле. Орхан Корхан. Это сын Халиса и отец Ферита. У него есть жена Гюльгюн. Так же есть Фуат Корхан. Он старший сын Орхана и Гюльгюн, и старший бра Ферита. Есть еще Ифакат. Это тётя Ферита и Фуата. Она была раньше замужем за старшего брата Орхана. Но теперь. После смерти мужа, стала любовницей Орхана. Ферит в этой семье бабник, который никого не слушается. Ему 23 года и он любит тусовки, девушек. Дедушке Халиду надоесть что Ферит ведет такой образ жизни. И женит на девушке из Антэпа.
Там живет семья Шанлы. Казым шанлы, у него есть жена Эме, но он из нее сделал прислугу, она ему служит. Так же есть две дочери. Суна, старшая дочка. Ей 20. И он тоже из нее сделал прислугу, и он жоска ее воспитывает. И есть младшая дочь Сейран, ей 19. Она тоже прислуга для отца, и он тоже ее строго воспитывает. Жена и дочки его боятся. Так же к него есть родная тётя Хатидже, которую он уважает. Сейран младшая дочь выйдет замуж за Ферита. Казым ее продаст семье Корханом. Сейран Ферита сразу понравится, а вот он ей нет. Они сначала будут постоянно сорится, ругаться. Ненавидит один другого. Но потом они полюбят друг друга
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Ferit Korhan
He is the son of Orhan Korhan and Gülgün Korhan. He is reckless, stubborn, and indifferent. Ferit enjoys his carefree life, indulging in parties and women. He dismisses family responsibilities, often clashing with his grandfather, Halil. His life changes when his family arranges for him to marry a girl from Antep. He meets Seyran Şanlı, the bride chosen for him, and initially hates her. However, their initial argument leads to an unexpected passionate encounter, marking the beginning of a complex and transformative relationship.
Fuat Korhan
He is the eldest son of Orhan Korhan and Gülgün's older brother. He is ambitious, disciplined, and strategic. Fuat manages a company while pursuing other business interests in Turkey and abroad. In contrast to Ferit, he embraces responsibility and seeks to expand his family’s enterprises globally. His relationship with Ferit is marked by rivalry over business opportunities and reputation.
Gülgün Korhan
She is the wife of Orhan Korhan and mother to Ferit and Fuat. She is caring, anxious, and overwhelmed. Gülgün tries to balance her family's demands with her own needs but feels trapped by her role in the household. She wishes for Ferit to change but knows her husband Halil's decision is final. Her relationship with Orhan suggests a supportive marriage despite the challenges raised by Ferit's lifestyle.
The Kingfisher
There is a film called The Kingfisher.
It is a Turkish film.
The main roles are performed by the actors from Istanbul, Fermi Korhan.
The entire Korzan family is involved in this project.
Grandfather Halil runs the largest company in Istanbul.
Orhan Korhan is Halil’s son and Ferit’s father.
He is married to Gülgün.
Fuat Korhan is the eldest son of Orhan and Gülgün, and Ferit’s older brother.
Ifakat is Ferit’s and Fuat’s aunt, who was previously married to Orhan’s older brother, but after his death became Orhan’s mistress.
And then there is me, Ferit Korhan, the youngest son of Orhan and Gülgün.
I am 23 years old and I do not listen to anyone.
I love parties, girls, and freedom.
My grandfather Halil hates my lifestyle and decided to marry me off to some girl from Antep.
Antep!
What the hell is Antep?
I do not know anything about Antep except that it is very far from Istanbul!
What kind of girl could I find there?
Probably some village girl who has never seen a man before!
My grandfather decided to marry me off to her without even asking me!
But I am not interested in getting married!
I do not need any damn bride!
I storm into Grandfather Halil’s office at the company headquarters.
The secretary tries to stop me, but I ignore him and enter the room.
Grandfather Halil is sitting behind his massive oak desk, reviewing some documents.
He does not even look up when I enter.
It is as if he expected me to come.
"I won’t marry some village girl from Antep!" he hears me say.
He slowly removes his reading glasses and looks at me with that stern look I have known since childhood.
"You are 23 years old," he says in a calm voice.
"Your father has had enough of your scandals. You crashed a borrowed sports car while drunk with two women. Do you know how much it cost?"
"This is my private life," I reply angrily.
"It has nothing to do with you."
Grandfather Halil stands up and looks at me with cold eyes.
"The marriage contract is already signed," he says in a firm voice.
I feel the weight of inevitability settle over me like a heavy cloak.
I slump into the leather chair across from his desk, my hands gripping the armrests until my knuckles turn white.
The morning sun streams through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting a golden glow over the room.
Dust particles dance in the air, suspended in the beam of light that cuts through the space.
The atmosphere is tense, heavy with unspoken words and unresolved conflicts.
Grandfather slides a manila folder across the polished surface of his desk toward me.
It is the marriage contract.
I refuse to touch it, my gaze fixed on it as if it were a ticking time bomb.
"You will marry," he says, his voice firm but weary.
"The contract has already been signed. You have no choice."
I feel a surge of defiance rise within me, but I know better than to argue with Grandfather when he has made up his mind.
He opens the folder and begins to read from it, his voice steady and detached.
"The marriage will take place in two weeks’ time. The dowry has been agreed upon. The bride’s family will provide a sum of one million lira."
Each word feels like another nail in my coffin, sealing my fate.
I try to interrupt, to protest, but he silences me with a sharp look. "The bride’s family will also provide a portion of their land holdings as part of the dowry," he continues, his voice unwavering.
"This will ensure that our family’s interests are protected and that our legacy is preserved."
I feel a wave of anger wash over me, but I remain silent, knowing that arguing with Grandfather is futile.
Just then, there is a knock at the door and Grandfather’s secretary enters with two cups of steaming coffee on a silver tray.
She sets one cup in front of me and the other in front of Grandfather before discreetly exiting the room.
The aroma of freshly brewed coffee fills the air, but I have no appetite for it.
Instead, I watch as the steam rises from my untouched cup, creating a miniature fog that hangs suspended above its surface.
Grandfather takes a sip of his coffee before continuing to read from the contract.
"Ferit, this isn't just about you," Grandfather Halil says, his voice softening slightly.
"It's about the future of our family and the company."
I lean forward, my voice low but determined, "And what if I refuse to go through with it?"
I stare at the polished surface of his desk, my jaw clenched tight as his words echo in my head.
"If you refuse to marry," he says, his voice steady and unwavering, "you will lose everything. Your inheritance, your position within the company, your lifestyle. It will all be taken away from you."
Through the windows, I watch as workers scurry between the company buildings, their lives a blur of activity.
The weight of his words settles heavy on my shoulders.
I drum my fingers against the leather armrest, contemplating my options.
The secretary enters with more coffee, her heels clicking against the marble floor.
I stand abruptly, knocking over my untouched cup.
Coffee spills across the polished surface, a dark stain spreading like a shadow.
I pace the length of the office, my shoes squeaking against the floor.
The sound echoes through the room, punctuating my thoughts.
An idea begins to form in my mind, a glimmer of hope amidst the darkness.
I turn to face Grandfather, who watches me from behind his desk.
"Let me propose a compromise," I say, my voice steady and determined.
"I will accept this marriage, but I want to choose between the Şanlı daughters myself."
His eyebrows raise slightly at my suggestion, but he remains silent, waiting for me to continue.
The secretary enters with a cloth to clean up the spilled coffee, her movements swift and efficient.
I use the interruption to press my case.
"Let me meet them both," I say, my voice filled with conviction.
"I'll pick one, and we'll proceed with your plan."
Grandfather Halil sits back in his chair, tapping his pen against the contract that lies on his desk.
The sound is steady and rhythmic, echoing through the room as he considers my proposal. After what feels like an eternity, he nods once, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips.
He reaches for the phone on his desk and dials a number, his movements deliberate and calculated.
I can feel a sense of triumph rising within me as I realize that I have won this small victory.
"Very well," Grandfather Halil says, his voice carrying a hint of approval.
"You will meet them both tomorrow at the family estate."
"But remember, Ferit," he adds, his tone turning serious, "this is your last chance to prove yourself worthy of this family."
I leave Grandfather's office and head straight to my favorite bar downtown.
The bartender knows me well, and as soon as I walk in, he pours me a glass of whiskey.
I take a sip, letting the liquor burn its way down my throat, calming my nerves.
As I nurse my drink, I pull out my phone and start searching for information about the Şanlı family of Antep.
Several news articles pop up, detailing their business dealings and philanthropic efforts.
I also find a few social media profiles belonging to the sisters.
Suna's profile is filled with photos of her at high-end events and parties, while Seyran's is sparse, with only a few pictures of her hiking in the mountains or reading books.
But there is one photo that catches my eye - a picture of Seyran standing in front of a waterfall, her dark hair blowing in the wind, a defiant look on her face.
I can't help but stare at it for a moment, wondering what she is like in person.
Just then, my phone buzzes with an incoming message from Grandfather.
"Tomorrow at 2 PM," it reads.
"The sisters will be arriving at the estate. Be there."
I take another sip of my whiskey, feeling the weight of tomorrow's meeting pressing down on me.
"Hey, Ferit," the bartender says, leaning over the counter, "you look like you've got a lot on your mind."
I nod, setting my glass down with a sigh. "Yeah, you could say that. I've got to choose between two sisters tomorrow, and it's not exactly a decision I ever thought I'd have to make."
I down the last of my whiskey and motion for the check.
The bartender slides it over with a sympathetic look.
Outside, the evening traffic crawls through the streets of Istanbul as I direct my driver back to my apartment.
The lights of the city blur together as we make our way home.
As soon as I step inside, I toss my jacket onto the couch and pull out my phone again.
I scroll back to Seyran's profile and stare at that waterfall photo one more time.
There's something about her reserved pose that intrigues me, especially compared to her sister's flashy party pictures.
I set an early alarm for tomorrow morning, determined to appear composed and confident when I meet the Şanlı sisters.
Even if I resent this whole situation, I won't let it show.
The next morning, as I arrive at the estate, I'm greeted by a young woman with striking eyes and an air of quiet confidence.
"You must be Ferit," she says, extending her hand with a polite smile.
"I'm Seyran, and I believe we have much to discuss."
I follow her through the estate's garden, watching as she effortlessly navigates the stone paths.
We make our way to a secluded bench beneath an old olive tree, far enough from the main house that our conversation won't be overheard.
The afternoon sun casts dappled shadows across her face as she sits, smoothing out her modest dress.
I remain standing, studying her every move with a mixture of curiosity and skepticism.
She keeps her eyes lowered, avoiding direct contact until she finally looks up at me.
Her gaze is unwavering and direct, catching me off guard for a moment.
The silence stretches between us, heavy with unspoken expectations.
Finally, she breaks it with a simple question.
"Do you want this marriage?"
I take a deep breath, choosing my words carefully.
"No, but I want to know you."
I sit down beside her on the bench, keeping a deliberate distance between us.
She nods, her eyes never leaving mine.
"I assumed as much. I'm guessing you're here to marry my sister, not me."
My stomach tightens at her assumption, but I don't correct her.
Instead, I ask, "Tell me about your life in Antep."
She shifts slightly, her hands fidgeting with the hem of her dress.
"Antep is a beautiful city," she begins, her voice steady but cautious.
"Our family has olive groves there. It's a simple life, but it's home."
As she speaks, I watch her closely, studying every subtle expression and movement.
Her eyes light up when she talks about the land and her family's business.
I can sense a deep connection to her roots.
"And what do you hope for your future?" she asks, turning the question back to me.
I hesitate for a moment before answering honestly.
"I want what's best for my family and this estate. If that means marriage, then so be it."
Seyran nods thoughtfully.
"I understand. Family obligations can be difficult to navigate."
She pauses, glancing around the garden before focusing back on me.
"I hope my sister finds happiness in this arrangement. She deserves it." At her words, I shift uncomfortably on the bench.
The weight of my decision hangs heavy in the air between us.
Before I can respond or reveal which sister I intend to choose, a servant approaches us from the main house.
"Miss Seyran," he says with a bow, "lunch is ready. Your family awaits you inside."
Seyran stands gracefully, smoothing out her dress once more.
"It was enlightening speaking with you, Ferit," she says, extending her hand again.
"Perhaps we will have more time to talk later."
I take her hand briefly before releasing it.
"Yes, perhaps," I reply, watching as she follows the servant back towards the house.
As she walks away, I feel a strange sense of loss, as if an opportunity has slipped through my fingers.
Just then, a voice interrupts my thoughts.
"Ferit, you're not seriously considering marrying Seyran, are you?" It's Suna, appearing from behind the olive tree with a knowing smile.
I lean against the garden wall, studying Suna's tense expression.
Her perfectly manicured nails tap against her phone screen as she scrolls through photos of herself at various Istanbul clubs.
She shows me pictures of her dancing with friends, posing in glittering outfits, and sipping champagne.
The scenes are all too familiar to me—parties I've attended countless times, surrounded by beautiful women.
"You see, Ferit," she says, glancing up at me with a calculated smile, "Seyran might be the responsible one, but I'm the fun one. We would have much more in common."
I raise an eyebrow, intrigued by her boldness.
"And what about your interests? What do you enjoy?"
Suna waves her hand dismissively.
"Oh, I enjoy everything Istanbul has to offer. The nightlife, shopping, traveling... there's so much to explore."
She pauses, studying my reaction before continuing.
"I know Seyran is more interested in the olive groves back in Antep. She spends most of her time there when we visit our family's land."
I frown slightly at the mention of Seyran's interests.
"Really? She mentioned enjoying the olive groves."
Suna scoffs.
"Yes, but that's only because Father makes her tend to them as punishment whenever she disobeys him. She hates it there."
I feel a pang of disappointment at Suna's casual cruelty towards her sister.
It bothers me more than it should, considering how I've treated many women in my life. I check my watch and notice the time.
"Excuse me, Suna. I should get going."
She pouts slightly but nods in understanding.
"Of course, Ferit. But remember, the choice you make will affect more than just you."
I nod, acknowledging the weight of her words.
As I turn to leave, she calls after me, "Don't underestimate Seyran; there's more to her than meets the eye."
I drive through the busy streets of Istanbul, my mind replaying the conversation with Seyran at the garden bench.
Her quiet confidence and connection to the land intrigue me.
At a red light, I pull out my phone and search for her number in the family documents Grandfather shared with me.
My thumb hovers over the call button, but before I can make a decision, the light turns green.
On impulse, I make a sharp U-turn and head towards the Şanlı family's temporary residence.
The guard recognizes my car and waves me through without hesitation.
I park hastily in front of their house and rush towards the entrance.
As I approach, I notice Seyran alone in the courtyard, tending to potted olive saplings.
I pause for a moment, then walk towards her with renewed determination.