His sketchbook was filled with Leyla. Not just portraits, but Leyla as a storm cloud, Leyla as a bright poppy in a field of grey, Leyla as a fox outsmarting a hunter. His love was secret, but it was alive, playing tricks on his mind and making him walk three miles out of his way just to catch a glimpse of her shadow.
He lunged for it, but the wind was faster. The book landed face-open right at the feet of the blue carved door. Leyla stepped out at that exact moment. Menim Asqim Cox Sirdi Deceldi
She picked it up. Elchin froze, his heart pounding against his ribs like a drum. He watched her eyes widen as she turned the pages. She saw herself—laughing, mischievous, and loved. His sketchbook was filled with Leyla
Elchin was captivated by her spirit. His heart felt like a restless bird every time she passed, but he was a weaver’s son, and she was the daughter of a wealthy merchant. To speak his love aloud felt impossible, so he let it be "decel" on paper instead. He lunged for it, but the wind was faster
One afternoon, a sudden, "mischievous" gust of wind—the kind Baku is famous for—ripped through the courtyard. It snatched Elchin’s sketchbook right out of his hands, flipping the pages wildly.
Elchin finally found his voice. "It has been wreaking havoc in my head for months."
"They say a secret is a burden," she said, stepping toward him with a playful tilt of her head. "But a mischievous secret... that sounds like a lot more fun."