The Hot Air Balloon – Part 2: Soft Landing

The landing was gentler than she'd feared.

Osman steered them down into a quiet field among the rock towers, the basket brushing the grass, bumping once and settling. The balloon sighed and folded slowly over the earth. A team in a truck hurried to catch the ropes.

Osman handed them a tray with two glasses of sweet apple tea. "A gift for the ten years," he said, with a twinkle. "I will be busy with the ropes for some time. Take your time."

"Thank you," said Kerem, a little flushed.

They wandered a short way from the basket, along a path of pale dust. The sun was fully up, painting the stone towers peach and apricot. A hoopoe flitted across the path. Dew sparkled on the grass.

"You were brave," said Kerem.

"I was terrified."

"That's what brave is."

She laughed, and her eyes were wet. "I'd never have done it for anyone else."

"I know." He took her hand. "That's why I asked."

They sat on a flat rock overlooking the valley. The last few balloons drifted far off, small as seeds. A breeze stirred the grass. For a long moment neither spoke.

"Can I ask you something?" said Yasemin.

"Yes."

"Ten years. Would you do it again?"

"All of it," said Kerem. "Including the mortgage."

She grinned. "May I kiss my husband? In the middle of Cappadocia?"

"Yes," said Kerem. "And if you say stop, you must go up again next year."

"That's an awful punishment."

"You'll love it."

She kissed him, apple-tea sweet, a hand on his stubbled cheek. He kissed her back with all the tenderness of ten years, an arm round her waist, pulling her close. The sunlight poured over the valley, warm on their faces.

When they parted, both of them were smiling.

"Green?" he asked.

"Green," said Yasemin. "Very green."

They went up again the next year, and the one after. She still shuts her eyes at takeoff. She always opens them.

More married couple romance: The Cruise · Couples Retreat · The Second Honeymoon