2:The Mark of Secrets

Arda stirred awake to the persistent beeping of her alarm clock.

Without needing to glance, she knew it was 7:00 AM; she had set it precisely the night before to give herself ample time to prepare for the day ahead.

The curtains were drawn tight, but a soft glow seeped through the fabric, hinting at the daylight outside.

Bright beams of sunlight slipped through the slightly parted sliding window curtains, illuminating the room.

Frowning at the alarm clock, Arda felt a twinge of annoyance, even though it was merely doing its job.

She had a meeting with her project supervisor at 9:00 AM.

Yet, there was a silver lining: she would be meeting Luke for lunch. This was their first date as a couple, and the thought sent a flutter of excitement through her.

But then, she couldn’t shake off the memory of the strange note and the unexpected gift she had received the night before.

While she hated to admit it, the expensive gift made it hard to dismiss the message as a simple prank.

Arda sat up in bed, swinging her legs over the side and reaching for the alarm clock to silence it.

The instant the insistent beeping stopped, she welcomed the sudden quietness, stretching her arms overhead and yawning widely, one hand covering her mouth.

Sleep still clung to her, a reminder of the late night spent celebrating her birthday.

With Jacob and Karina, she had tidied up the aftermath of the party, and exhaustion had quickly overtaken her. Unlike her friends, who seemed to possess an unyielding energy, she craved rest.

Pushing herself off the bed, she set about preparing for the day. She neatly made her bed, brushed her teeth in the bathroom, and took a refreshing shower.

After moisturizing her skin, she slipped into her lingerie and wrapped herself in a large towel before sitting at her dressing table.

Picking up her hairbrush, she began to groom her hair, her gaze fixed on her reflection.

Arda admired her straight, caramel-colored hair that fell just to her shoulders, styled with a side part that she loved. The warm tones complemented her light brown eyes.

Her full lips framed a face that harmoniously blended her wide-set eyes and narrow nose.

On the dressing table, a photo captured a joyful moment of her, Jacob, and Karina at a leisure park, Jacob’s arms around them as they all smiled at the camera.

Beside it lay another photograph featuring her family: her father, mother, and younger sister.

Unlike Arda, who had brown hair, her sister had dark locks like their parents, and while Arda’s eyes were light brown, her sister’s mirrored their father’s striking blue.

Arda’s skin was darker than her family’s, often leading strangers to remark on her different appearance, but at least she shared her mother’s eye color.

As she finished brushing her hair, her fingers grazed the tattoo mark on her inner wrist—a full moon design.

At first glance, it resembled a tattoo, but a closer inspection revealed its true nature: a birthmark.

Her parents had told her to maintain the illusion of it being a tattoo, shielding her from judgment as a child.

In her mind, Arda returned to her early years, recalling the moment she had first discovered the mark.

One night, clad in pajamas, she dashed into her parents' room just as they were preparing for bed.

“Daddy, Mummy, what’s this?” she had asked, pointing at the mark on her wrist.

Her father lifted her, pressing a kiss to her hand.

“It’s a tattoo,” her mother had answered gently.

“What’s a tattoo?” young Arda had inquired, curiosity lighting up her face.

“A design on the body,” her mother had explained. “We put it on you. Do you like it?”

“Yes! Very much,” she had replied, feeling the warmth of her parents’ affection.

Her father had kissed her cheek while her mother caressed the mark lovingly.

As she grew, she began to question why the mark never faded, and they would tell her it was made with a special ink.

When she asked why her sister didn’t have one, they claimed the special ink was no longer available when her sister was born.

By age eight, the truth could no longer be hidden.

Arda vividly recalled the night her parents came to say goodnight to her and her sister.

She lay beside her sister, who was fast asleep, while their parents sat on either side of the bed.

“Arda, you’re growing up, and we think it’s time to tell you the truth about your mark,” her father said softly.

With her head resting on a soft fiber pillow, Arda smiled up at them, sensing something significant was about to be revealed.

“Your mark isn’t a tattoo. It’s a birthmark,” her father explained.

“What does that mean?” she asked, a mix of confusion and intrigue swirling within her.

“It means you were born with it,” her mother added. “It’s natural.”

Arda gazed at the mark on her wrist, her perspective shifted; she was seeing it anew, comforted by the truth.

“But why did you make me think it wasn’t natural?” she asked.

“It’s to protect you,” her mother replied.

“From what?”

Her father posed a question: “How would you feel if you saw someone with a sun image on their body and they said it was natural?”

Arda thought for a moment. “I would think it was weird.”

“Exactly,” her father confirmed, and Arda understood their reasoning for the deception.

“People will think I’m strange,” she said, sadness creeping into her voice.

“That’s why you need to keep the truth a secret, okay?” her mother instructed gently.

“Yes, Mummy,” Arda nodded.

“Good girl. If anyone asks, just tell them it’s a tattoo,” her father added.

“Okay, Daddy,” she promised.

“Goodnight, sweetheart. Remember not to draw attention to your mark,” he said, tucking her in.

“Okay, Daddy. Goodnight.”

“Night, baby,” her mother whispered. “Always remember what your father said.”

“Sure, Mum. Goodnight.”

As her parents left the room, her father turned off the light, plunging her into darkness.

She flicked on the bedside lamp just as they exited, closing the door behind them.

Taking a deep breath, Arda shifted her focus back to the present.

Her fingers traced the birthmark as her gaze fell upon a flier resting on the dressing table.

The vibrant advertisement showcased various birthmarks on models, proclaiming a Night of Uniqueness.

“Flaunt your unique birthmark for a chance to win half a million bucks,” the text read enticingly.

Contemplating whether to participate, she wrestled with her parents’ advice to avoid drawing attention to her mark.

Yet, the thought of the prize—half a million bucks—was enticing.

Arda envisioned the countless ways she could use that money to improve her life.

Pushing aside her thoughts about the competition, she concentrated on getting ready for the day.

Leaving the dressing table, Arda entered her walk-in closet, letting the towel drop onto the rug as she slipped into a colorful summer dress that hugged her slim figure.

The dress flowed elegantly to her feet, thin straps resting lightly on her shoulders.

After hanging the towel in the bathroom, she returned to the dressing table to apply minimal makeup, enhancing her natural beauty.

Once satisfied with her look, she smiled at her reflection, feeling ready for the day ahead.

Glancing at the wall clock, she realized it was already 7:56 AM. Time truly did wait for no one.

She slipped her feet into a pair of flat sandals, grabbed her backpack, and stuffed her phone inside.

Just before leaving, her eyes caught sight of the mysterious gift and note from last night, sitting in the corner of the dressing table.

It was beautiful and enigmatic, and as she stepped closer to examine it, she wondered if she should wear it or leave it behind.