The aroma of saffron-infused plov drifted through the house, but for 28-year-old Elvin, it smelled like a trap. It was Sunday dinner—the "Grand Council" of the Aliyev family.
Elvin groaned. "I’m busy with the firm, Tural. My life is fine."
The family laughed, and for the first time, Elvin didn't mind the "trap." Sometimes, the music of tradition was exactly what he needed to hear.
"Okay, okay!" Elvin held up his hands in defeat. "Turn off the music. If I go to tea with Leyla next weekend, will you stop playing that song at every meal?"
As Elvin reached for a piece of lamb, his older brother, Tural, cleared his throat. Tural had been married for three years and now walked with the confident air of a man who no longer had to explain why he was home late.
"Elvin," Tural started, leaning back. "The house is quiet. Too quiet. My kids need cousins to play with, and Mom needs a new daughter-in-law to spoil."
Their mother emerged from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron, her eyes twinkling. "I saw the neighbor’s daughter, Leyla, at the market today. She’s a doctor now. Very polite. Very... single."