I entered the harem with a smile, still replaying the beautiful day I had spent with the prince. It truly felt like I was living in a fairy tale, and I loved how everything was unfolding slowly, yet so gracefully.

But my pink-hued thoughts were quickly shattered by the most irritating voice—the one who never stops yelling, the woman who could easily win the award for the loudest pregnant woman—Eylem.

"You’re a witch! All his attention was on me until you showed up!" she shouted at me.

I raised my eyebrows and replied calmly, "As far as I know, he was already upset with you before he even met me." I gave a small smile. "It would be better for you to rest during your pregnancy—you’re tiring your child out too much."

She grabbed my wrist tightly. "Don’t pretend you care about my child!" Then suddenly, pain shot through my jaw—she had slapped me.

Tears filled my eyes, not from pain, but from rage.

I lifted my hand and returned the slap—hard. That made her even more furious. She lunged at me, grabbing my hair, and threw me to the ground, hitting me over and over. I could hear some girls trying to pull her off, but her rage had made her unstoppable.

After all the screaming and blows, I blacked out—I don’t remember what happened next.

≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾

|3rd Person POV|

"Mother, they told me you wanted to see me urgently," Mehmed said as he stepped into his mother's chamber.

She smiled and gestured for him to sit. "How are you, my son?"

"I'm well. And you?"

"I'm fine too. You look happy," she said, placing a hand over his.

He smiled faintly. "I suppose I am."

She nodded. "They told me you were with your new favorite—what was her name again?"

He looked slightly surprised, but answered calmly. "Mary."

"Yes, that’s it," she said with a knowing smile. Then her tone changed. "But you should be spending more time with Eylem. She’s carrying your child—you need to be by her side."

He sighed, turning his gaze away. "She’s reckless, and all she cares about is power. She doesn’t act like a mother-to-be. I’ve done as you asked—I met her yesterday and gave her the gift you gave me."

Hürrem was silent. She had hoped to keep Eylem close because of her simplicity—easy to control, easy to command. "Still, your relationship with her must remain civil. InşAllah, you’ll be parents soon."

Mehmed nodded impatiently and was about to leave when Fahriye Kalfa entered, clearly anxious.

"Sultana," she said breathlessly, bowing, then noticed the prince. "Your Highness."

"What’s the matter?" Hürrem asked, concerned. "Why are you in such a rush?"

Fahriye hesitated, unsure if she should speak in front of Mehmed.

"Speak," he commanded.

Gathering her words, she said in a single breath, "Eylem Hatun attacked Mary Hatun—a fight broke out."

"Eylem?" Hürrem turned to her son, whose voice instantly sharpened.

Fahriye nodded. "Eylem Hatun is unharmed, but..."

"But what?" Mehmed snapped, his grip tightening.

"Mary Hatun lost consciousness... and appears to be in a very bad state..."

Before she could finish, Mehmed stormed out.

"Attention, Şehzade Mehmed!"

All the concubines stood with their heads bowed as he strode into Mary’s room. He rushed to her side, where she lay unconscious, a physician and two girls attending her.

"How is she?" he asked, eyes fixed on her face.

"Not well, Your Highness," the physician replied, placing a bottle on the table. "She should regain consciousness by tomorrow. If not..." she trailed off.

"Continue!" he demanded.

"It would be a very bad sign."

He gently brushed her cheek, then turned to Ayşe and Alice. "Take good care of her. I’ll return shortly."

He left and instructed Fahriye to bring Eylem to his chamber. Within minutes, she was standing before him.

"Your Highness," she said softly, bowing.

He approached, grasping her wrist. "Are you insane? Why did you do that?"

Tears welled up in her eyes. "I was just... jealous." She rested a hand on her stomach. "I’m pregnant. I can’t control my emotions."

Before he could answer, Hürrem Sultan entered. "Mehmed, leave her."

Reluctantly, he released her wrist.

"Is the baby alright?" Hürrem asked calmly.

Eylem wiped her tears. "That girl tried to harm my child. She’s jealous!"

"Enough!" Hürrem snapped. "Everyone said you were the one who started it."

"But she slapped me too!" Eylem insisted.

"Where did you get such audacity?" Mehmed barked. "You’re standing before a Sultana and a Şehzade!"

She began to cry again. "Please forgive me."

He stepped closer, fury in his eyes. "If you weren’t pregnant, I would have ended your life."

Hürrem was taken aback—Mehmed, who had always been known for his composure, had never spoken with such fury.

"And you, mother," he added, pointing at her, "The harem is your responsibility."

Her eyes widened—she hadn’t anticipated being held accountable, let alone in front of a concubine.

≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾

I felt like my head was about to explode when I opened my eyes. I tried to move, but pain shot through my neck.

"Don’t move," Alice said with a soft smile.

My throat was dry—I couldn’t speak. Alice noticed and quickly brought me water. I took a few sips and closed my eyes again.

"You scared us so much," Ayşe whispered.

"Thank God she’s awake," said Fahriye Kalfa. "I’ll go inform Şehzade Mehmed. He insisted I tell him."

I couldn’t talk. My mind returned to those final moments—I remembered the blows, the screaming.

"Give me a mirror," I whispered. "Is my face okay?"

Ayşe gently took my hand. "You’ll be fine."

"Give me the mirror!" I said, panicking. It was the first time I’d felt this kind of pain.

"Alright, calm down," Alice said, then placed something in my hand.

I took a deep breath, opened my eyes, and lifted the mirror.

"Oh God… what is this?! This can’t be real!" Panic rose in my chest, and before I knew it, I was screaming. "Nooo!"

The door burst open.

The prince.

He was here.

And this was all because of him.

"This is all because of your lunatic concubine!" I shouted. "No one has ever dared to touch me like this! I don’t want to stay in this—"

Before I could finish, he rushed to my side and pulled me into his arms. I tried to resist, but he held me tightly, his hand running gently through my hair.

"Okay… calm down," he murmured.

Eventually, I surrendered. I buried my face in his chest, tears streaming down, and cried until sleep gently overtook me.

I awoke to a dark room. Only a single candle burned on the table. Ayşe was asleep nearby. I quietly rose, wincing with each step, retrieved the candle, and returned to my bed. I pulled out my notebook and ink, and with tears streaming down my face, I began to write.

"Dear Charlotte from the past,
If I told you what happened today, you wouldn’t believe it. They stole your beauty and destroyed it. When I came here, I was afraid—but I had a purpose: my family. I imagined only two paths—survival or death. But this? This, I could have never foreseen.
From this moment on, I won’t let emotions stand in my way. I’ll fulfill the mission I came for—then I’ll leave this ruthless place behind."

≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾

A week passed. Mehmed visited three times, but I barely spoke to him. I was exhausted, both physically and emotionally. My wounds were slowly healing, but I still couldn't bring myself to look in the mirror.

This morning, Alice and Ayşe insisted I stay in bed. I didn’t argue. There was nothing to do in this place except sit—waiting and enduring, it seemed, with the ever-present threat of more pain.

Ayşe brought soup and tried feeding me.

"That’s enough," I said. "I don’t like the taste."

"It’s good for your health," she said firmly. "Come on."

I sighed. "Fine. Now I want some water, please."

Ayşe got up while Alice came closer, holding something. "The doctor said to apply this to the small bruises—it should help them fade."

I nodded and took it. "Thank you."

"Attention, Şehzade Mehmed!"

I sighed. I didn’t want to see him. He was the reason this happened. He was the problem, the one who allowed it all to unfold this way.

"Good morning," he greeted me, motioning for the others to leave. He approached my bed. "How are you feeling today?"

I looked at him, tired of pretending. "Does it matter?"

He blinked, surprised. "What do you mean?"

I raised my eyebrows. "I’m just a slave here. No one would care if I died." I laughed bitterly. "You’re here acting like you care while the one who did this is free and happy."

"Hatun—" he tried to stop me.

I decided to risk it all—I could no longer accept this treatment. I stood before him, meeting his gaze without flinching.

"What?! What’s wrong?!" I snapped, daring him to answer.

He looked slightly taken aback, his voice more cautious than before. "She can’t be punished… because she’s pregnant."

I let out a bitter laugh. "Even if she wasn’t, nothing would’ve happened to her." I took a step closer. "Because she’s your favorite. And the rest of us? Just worthless slaves, right? Competing for scraps of your attention."

The words came pouring out—I couldn’t stop them. I was done with this place and its twisted rules. Sleep with the prince. Give birth to a prince. Fight so he can be Sultan...

He reached out and gently took my hand—his grip soft, almost hesitant. "No one asked you to fight for my attention. And who said I didn’t care about you?"

"If you did, this wouldn’t have happened to me!" My voice trembled with everything I had kept buried. At that moment, I didn’t care if my words were foolish or dangerous. I just wanted someone to be held accountable.

He let go of my hand and stepped back slightly, his voice calm but laced with something sharper. "So you believe I don’t care about you, is that it?"

I met his eyes and nodded without hesitation. "Yes. I’m sure someone like you has countless favorites. I’m the last of your concerns. You chose your pregnant favorite over me without a second thought."

He didn’t say a word.

Just stood there, staring at me in silence.

Then he turned away, his voice low and cold. "Fine. You’ll see just how little I care. But don’t forget—you’re in my harem. And you can’t change that."

He opened the door and left swiftly, the room falling into silence behind him.

I sat on the bed, trying to process what had just happened. I had lashed out, poured all my anger onto him—and for a moment, it felt like a weight lifted off my chest.

But the relief was fleeting.

Very fleeting.