asted as long as it was formed. The government center is in the city of Bagyar, including the sultan's palace, central market, schools, hospitals, places

me, depending on the cause. For example, what just happened: a girl from a middle-class family married a wealthy older man. I heard that the man had a large wheat field and was a jewelry craftsman. The girl's fate is miserable; her wedding party is in the city square, with decorated tents full of flowers and tasty food, and the guests are from the nobility. When the festive and luxurious party was held, Mirza and I worked as

quickly. Is it wrong? For some people, maybe not, because they think it doesn't violate norms because marriage is permitted, but have they ever thought about the feelings that will go into that marriage? Is he ready? Does he want to? The answers can vary, back to me. M

physicians in this country. I wanted my adoptive parents to be proud and wanted to be an adopted child who did not disappoint. One year has passed abroad; my education is going well and satisfactorily. I am a fast-learning student with satisfactory grades; my adoptive parents are increasingly motivating me to continue studying and complete my education. When news of the fire tragedy reached my ears, the world seemed to collapse beneath my feet. Everything seemed to happen in the blink of an eye, from the so

hat time was just rubble from a fire. I was forgotten because I was not listed among the heirs for all the property my adoptive father owned. I also visited the orphanage where my adoptive parents took me, hoping that I could be accommodated there again. At the same time, I worked, but the place did not accommodate adults, and the aid they received was limited, so accepting additional people meant increasing costs. Finally, I started living as a homeless person. Sleeping in f

will never give my virginity to a man like him. After defending myself and spitting in his face that night, I immediately ran out of the bar with his bodyguards chasing him. It turned out that the man was a member of the palace. Running in no particular direction, I finally reached a dead end in a narrow alley between buildings; as the male bodyguards approached, I heard the voice of someone calling me from above. At first, I was confused and didn't believe my hearing because, at that time, the atmosphere around me was pretty d

he large window. I let her wait for my answer while catching her breath, and the

er ensuring I was starting to speak. Mirza la

friendship; just like me, she was an orphan from an orphanage, but the orphanage where she came from burned down when she was seven years old, only she managed to s

longer than me. A year passed, and I began to accept the reality that happened to me and slowly but surely foll

ps turning fades away, making me feel lighter through the days. After all, now I am at the bottom of the wheel of life's fate, and who knows when I