She was like no other woman he had known. Like no other woman on this earth.

When she stepped into his apartment, there were no little games. No fake displays of shame when she walked in. No fake displays of guilt when she departed.

She said nothing to excuse herself. Whereas the others, the women who’d come before—they’d gone on and on, moaning about husbands who failed to understand them or appreciate their fine points or pay them any attention at all. Or they’d tell Muhsin that they loved him in a way they’d never thought possible. Their flimsy excuses told him otherwise.

Celile said none of these things. Celile just walked in