This was not a married couple, not for lack of trying. Saudi journalist Jamal Khashoggi had exiled himself in the US in 2017. He entered his country's consulate in Istanbul, Turkey, on October 2nd, 2018, to obtain documents related to his planned marriage.
Hatice Cengiz, his real-life fiancee, waited outside. ...
I’ll pause the story here. I think there’s enough to base admiration on at this point. Did Khashoggi entertain fears as he readied himself to walk in? Was there a sense of foreboding? Whether this, what should have been a simple matter of course, took an act of courage or not, he was attempting to do something that could be construed as normal, presumably out of love.
Cengiz, for her part, I admire because she’d hoped to act with piety, to eschew impropriety. I do not blame her for reacting with self righteous indignation to the inattention the heinous outcome drew. From the US Commander in Chief, it barely got a mention. This level of malfeasance stank so bad, I'd say it surely registered at the least several galaxies away.
I’ll not expound on this atrocity overmuch. Suffice it to say, as I told my brother-in-law’s family at Thanksgiving that year, I slept with a part of Khashoggi each night. (I think I said “a ‘different’ part”, no less). I didn’t say I did it metaphorically or in a platonic way. I hope they read between the lines. I think it comforted me, if nothing else. I admire people who are good. I believe this couple was just that, good.