— I have to go, — Bahar whispered.

— Bahar, Evren, I want to talk, — Serhat’s voice broke into their fragile world. — Rengin? — he turned to her, seeking her support.

— Uh, — she exhaled, stepping back, — I need to make a call, — she pulled her phone from her pocket and, catching up with Bahar, took her by the arm. — Come on, — she whispered, almost without sound.

— Evren Yalkın, — Serhat’s booming voice echoed off the walls.

— Serhat Özer, in half an hour in my office. We’ll talk about your daughter then, — Evren’s tone promised nothing good, — for now, I’m busy.

— Are you sure it’s safe to leave them alone? — Bahar whispered, letting herself be led.

— They need to talk it out, — Rengin nodded. — They’ll talk anyway. We’re not mothers to break up two quarreling boys in the corners. It had to happen sooner or later.

— Uh, — Bahar sighed and stopped as they turned the corner. — I can’t, — she whispered, — it’s all happening at once again, — she bent forward, bracing her hands on her knees.

— Why are you running from Evren? — Rengin asked. — What’s wrong between you two this time?

Bahar straightened, pressing her hand to her chest:

— I don’t even know, — she whispered, — the way he looks… I feel like I’m not ready… it’s too much. I don’t understand, — she admitted.

— Not knowing what you want, — Rengin murmured with her eyes closed, — oh, how familiar that feels.

— What about you and Serhat? — Bahar asked bluntly. — What are you afraid of?

Rengin paled and glanced around:

— If only I knew, — she whispered. — I don’t understand myself at all, — she confessed.

— Mmm, — Bahar murmured, patting her on the shoulder.

They had barely taken a breath when Bahar suddenly turned. She heard familiar footsteps.

— Later, — she managed to whisper before bolting.

Bahar slipped onto the staircase, quietly closing the door behind her, pressing her hand to her mouth to stifle her heavy breathing.

She leaned against the door, listening for sounds on the other side. Slowly, she backed away, moving to the stairs. She sank onto a step, hugged her knees, clenched her fingers, and dropped her head onto them. She still flinched when the door creaked, though she didn’t lift her head.

Bahar groaned inwardly, realizing she couldn’t run and hide forever — Evren would find her sooner or later.

— Can I sit with you? — his voice reached her.

— Only if you don’t talk, — she whispered, lifting her head, resting her chin on her knees.

She watched him from the corner of her eye as he sat down beside her. She noticed he still left a small distance between them, yet even from there she breathed in the scent of his cologne with hunger. His nearness unsettled her; her breath grew heavy, her chest tightened as if she couldn’t breathe, her heart pounded so loud it deafened her. And she only gripped her fingers tighter, desperate that he not notice she was trembling.

— But I can just sit here, right? — Evren broke the silence.

— Only if you don’t look at me the way you did in the hospital room, — she whispered. — That was unbearable, — she admitted. — That look of yours.

Evren smiled. His eyes lit up. She saw it all but hid it skillfully… when had she learned to do that, he couldn’t grasp. She still responded to him, to his presence, and that gave him hope.

— I didn’t know love could feel like this, — he whispered, — sitting here beside you, afraid to move, — he swallowed hard and glanced at her, — afraid to scare you away.

Bahar sighed, still avoiding his eyes.

— I’m too tired of being strong, — she whispered.

— I can see how hard this is for you, — he nodded. — I’m tired too, of everything always being at the wrong time, — Evren admitted.

Bahar shrugged:

— That’s because you always follow me, — she said quietly, — instead of walking beside me.

Evren looked at her in silence, then suddenly smiled:

— Then I’ll sit closer, — he slid nearer, and she instantly tensed, but he didn’t stop until he was right next to her. Their shoulders and hips touched, but he didn’t reach for her. — So this is where you’ve been hiding from me?

— Someone’s always hiding here, — Bahar whispered. She felt the warmth of his body but didn’t move away. — Serhat hid from Rengin here. I hid from you.

— So you were hiding here with Serhat? — he asked, turning toward her.

Bahar flushed; those jealous notes in his voice made her spin toward him, and suddenly they were nose to nose. Evren instantly forgot about Serhat. She was breathing, and her breath brushed against his lips. She stared into his eyes, unable to look away.

— I’m going to kiss you, — he whispered.

— No, — she breathed, barely audible, — I’m going to kiss you.

Evren blinked. He couldn’t believe what he’d heard. They leaned in at the same moment, and their lips met in a tender kiss, so long-awaited, so hard-earned after those endless months apart… and it wasn’t reconciliation. It was the realization that their feelings were still alive.

— I love you, — Evren breathed into her lips.

— I love you, — Bahar rested her head on his shoulder, and he wrapped her in his arms.

— So what do we do now? — he asked, daring the question, afraid of the silence between them, a silence that had dragged on for months, tearing their souls apart.

— I don’t know yet, — she admitted honestly. — And I’m scared, — Bahar added.

— We’ll get through this, won’t we? — Evren pulled her closer, holding her tight.

Bahar, her face buried in his neck, breathed him in. Here, in his arms, she was in the safest place she could imagine. Slowly, she calmed, realizing there was no point in running anymore.

— You won’t keep hiding, will you? — he asked, as if reading her thoughts.

Bahar only shrugged without answering, then gave him a light jab in the ribs.

— What’s that for? — he asked with a smile.

She didn’t struggle in his embrace. She wasn’t trying to get away. They sat together on the stairwell step, and behind the door patients waited — patients who believed they could save them. But right now, they were saving each other, saving themselves. Evren wasn’t ready to let go. Bahar wasn’t ready to stand.

— What’s that for? — she repeated, shifting in his arms until he loosened his hold a little. — Don’t look at me like that, — Bahar pressed her palms against his shoulders. — Or I’ll end up kissing you, and I need to go into surgery. Çağla, — she reminded him.

— No, I’ll be the one kissing you, — he leaned in, but she stopped him.

— That doesn’t mean anything, — she tried to give him a stern look.

But mischief flickered in Evren’s eyes — he was becoming again the man she had once fallen in love with. She was starting to recognize him, but they were no longer the same Bahar and Evren. They had changed, everything around them had changed. Nothing was still.

— It means everything, — he whispered, brushing his lips against her cheek. — I’ll let you go now, — he breathed, — because I believe in you, because this is for Çağla. And I’ll be waiting. I’ll be here. You’ll give her the chance to be a mother, Bahar. You’re mine, Doctor Bahar. Only mine. You’re my miracle.

Bahar slowly slipped out of his arms and just as slowly rose to her feet.

— It’s not like that, — she refused to explain further. — I don’t know anything yet, — her voice betrayed confusion and a faint panic.

— I don’t know either, — Evren stood up beside her.

— Oh no, — she pressed her hands against his chest, but he hardly budged. — Don’t you dare walk out with me, or right after me. No!

— Then what do we do? — he asked, a little lost, and in that moment she took her chance and slipped through the door.

— How should I know? Figure it out, — he heard her call as the door closed behind her.

Evren chuckled quietly. For the first time, he felt light, for the first time in months he felt hope stirring. She was right: what had just happened didn’t solve everything, didn’t erase their problems, but it was enough to believe that maybe they still had a chance.

He went down the stairs slowly, as if his steps were matching the rhythm of her breath he still felt on his skin. The taste of her kiss lingered on his lips, and it was so strange. It wasn’t a reward, it wasn’t a victory… it was just a chance, one that could still slip away if they rushed it.

He knew his mistake last time had been wanting everything at once — even a child. Back then, Bahar had run not only from him, but from herself, from the weight of what her already complicated life couldn’t hold.

Now, for the first time, he felt he could wait. He no longer feared her saying “no.” What he feared was her shutting down again. If that happened, everything between them would remain in the past, unchangeable. He feared she would once again be only “Doctor Bahar” to everyone — and to him — instead of the woman who had just sat with him, confessing how afraid she was.

He smiled, because for the first time in months, he felt that he wasn’t chasing after her — he had finally managed to stand beside her. And even if she hadn’t admitted it yet, he already knew: today, they had taken their first step toward each other. And that meant it was still possible.

Possible? The corridor seemed longer than usual. Each step echoed in her knees, as if she were still running, though now she walked slowly, giving herself time to breathe. Bahar still felt his gaze on her, even through the closed door, through the walls — as vividly as she still felt the warmth of his shoulder, his scent.

That kiss… too warm, too honest, too dangerous. She knew: one step toward him — and she’d be swept back into that vortex where everything disappeared, where only he remained.

She didn’t want to believe they could start over. But she knew — if he truly managed to walk beside her, not behind her… maybe they really did have a chance.

She shook her head, forcing herself back to reality. Right now, she had to focus on Çağla. Bahar exhaled, her steps growing steadier.

The only place she could hide from her own thoughts was the operating room. And she hurried there…

***

He didn’t hurry. Evren walked up to the elevator and pressed the button. Maybe someone glanced at him, but he didn’t notice. He could still feel her in his arms, her warmth, her scent — it seemed as if he was wrapped in her completely… and yet his face betrayed nothing.

Evren stepped out on his floor and headed toward his office, where Yusuf was waiting patiently. He hadn’t gone inside, just stood by the wall, flipping through his notes, scribbling something down. Evren smiled… The one he had seen as an obstacle only an hour ago, he now intended to turn into his guide — into her life, her home, her upstairs, her bedroom.

He almost laughed at himself. Why had he been angry, blind to this option before? And yet all it took was to look from another angle. He had always told his students the same thing: another perspective, a different approach, and the operation becomes possible. All you need is access.

— Let’s go, — Evren said, opening the door.

— I have questions about Esra, Professor Evren, — Serhat was standing by the window in his office, a chart in his hands.

Evren approached his desk, and now he understood why the young man had been waiting outside. Yusuf closed his notebook and stepped aside into a corner. He tried to make himself invisible, following Evren’s instructions — don’t interfere, don’t ask questions.

— I believe the treatment plan you’ve chosen is not the best one! — Serhat threw Esra’s chart onto Evren’s desk.

Evren straightened the chart and looked at him:

— And I believe you’re not in the position to challenge it right now! — he pointed at a chair, but Serhat ignored the gesture, so Evren went on. — We’re not just fighting symptoms. We’re keeping the patient alive.

— She’s not just a patient! You’re talking about my daughter! — Serhat reminded him, stepping closer to the desk.

Yusuf edged back against the wall, clutching his notebook.

— I’m speaking as her doctor! — Evren’s tone was cold. — I’m responsible for her heart. Bahar is managing the pregnancy. Everything else — that’s your emotions.

— Emotions?! — Serhat slammed his hands on the desk. — You’re the one lecturing me about emotions? Did you forget her?

Yusuf flinched at the growing tension in the office. He was about to step out, but Evren stopped him with a single look.

— Careful, — Evren leaned slightly toward Serhat. — You’re crossing a line.

— I don’t care how many achievements you’ve got! — Serhat shot back, refusing to back down. — You don’t see what’s right under your nose. You’re doing the same thing with Bahar, — he blurted out.

Evren jerked, his hand curling into a fist:

— Don’t you dare, — his voice hardened. — That’s none of your business! You don’t get to tell me what to do or how! We are not alone here! — he reminded him. — I’m not asking for your approval. I’m asking you — don’t interfere!

Serhat turned briefly, almost as if he had forgotten Yusuf was there, then swung his eyes back to Evren.

— You have no right to risk her life, — Serhat said sharply. — What are you planning? To delay the surgery, just for the sake of a child she may not even carry to term?!

— We’re fighting for both, — Evren answered evenly. — Because she has a chance. Tomorrow, that chance might be gone.

— This is madness, Evren Yalkın! Her heart is critical! One fetus has already been removed! That was a warning! What’s next?

— That was a decision, — Evren’s voice stayed steady, though his breath had grown heavier and a light sheen of sweat appeared on his forehead. — The right one, urgent and precise.

The office fell silent. Yusuf barely dared to breathe. It was the first time he had seen a doctor argue with a patient’s family. For the first time, he stood on the other side, watching as a future doctor. And that was exactly what Evren was showing him now. He watched Professor Serhat fight for his daughter, while Professor Evren defended his treatment strategy — watching how professional ethics intertwined with personal ties.

— Right now, we’re standing on the edge, but we’re not past it yet, — Evren said at last, quieter but firm. — And you’re not speaking to me as a doctor. You’re speaking as a father who’s terrified.

— Of course I’m terrified! — Serhat shuddered. — She’s my daughter, do you understand? Mine! — he pressed a hand to his chest. — I’ve already lost my wife, and I will not let you… — he broke off, his voice giving way.

Yusuf lowered his head. It was too painful to watch what was unfolding in the office.

— Not let who? — Evren asked. — Me, as her doctor? Or Bahar?

— Bahar knows what she’s doing. But you… — Serhat’s voice shook.

Serhat lifted his chin, struggling to keep control of himself.

— Serhat, — Evren met his eyes. — If you truly want to save your daughter, you have to stop being her doctor! You must let us save her!

— What? — Serhat was completely thrown off.

— You’re her father, which means you can’t assess her condition objectively, — Evren leaned against the back of a chair. — You’ll panic at every spike in her blood pressure. You’ll overreact. Your stubbornness is blinding you!

Serhat was breathing heavily now, no longer hiding his state. Yusuf watched him tensely, but when he looked at Evren, there was respect in his eyes. Evren released the chair, walked around the desk, and came closer to Serhat.

— I’m not afraid, — his voice was calmer. — Not because I don’t feel, but because I know what I’m doing. Trust me with your daughter. Trust me as her doctor. Not as a man. Not as a former friend. As a professional. As a good doctor.

Silence filled the office again. Outside, life went on — footsteps, voices — but here it felt frozen. And then Serhat broke the stillness at last, his voice low after a long pause.

— If something happens to her… — he couldn’t finish.

Yusuf twitched nervously, wiping sweat from his forehead. He didn’t know what to do with his hands, where to look. He felt unbearably awkward, uncomfortable, even guilty to be a witness to this moment.

— You’ll still be there, — Evren placed a hand on Serhat’s shoulder. — But right now, just trust her to us. Don’t interfere, — he stepped back, picked up Esra’s chart from the desk. — You don’t open this file anymore, — he told him firmly. — You don’t look at the monitors when you’re in your daughter’s room. From this day on, you are only her father.

— You don’t have children, you can’t understand! — the words burst from Serhat. — And if you do, you don’t even know it!

Evren went pale. Serhat had crossed the line again, from professional into personal.

— She must live at any cost. Any! — Serhat demanded.

— That’s exactly why Bahar is overseeing her pregnancy, and why Esra is on the transplant list, — Evren answered quietly, swallowing the blow.

Serhat clenched his jaw, shut his eyes for a second, then suddenly turned and stormed out of the office.

Yusuf hadn’t even taken a breath, hadn’t processed what he had just witnessed.

— Questions? — Evren’s hard voice cut the silence.

— What? — Yusuf stammered. — I… — he looked him in the eye, then dropped his gaze. — You… — he couldn’t finish.

— I don’t take on what I can’t do, — Evren understood him. — Sit down, — he stretched his neck and glanced at the clock.

— I want to learn this, — Yusuf whispered.

Evren said nothing, mentally calculating time.

— Study these files, — he pointed at a small stack on the right side of the desk. — Open the patients’ data on the tablet and compare their test results. Analyze.

He spoke while moving around the desk.

— Professor, am I not with you? — Yusuf stopped him near the door.

— No, — Evren hesitated just for a moment. — Now I’m a patient’s relative, — his voice was hoarse. — I need to go.

Yusuf even stood up, feeling a strong urge to go with him. He had never seen him like this — so uncertain. Evren was changing before his eyes, shifting from a strict, confident doctor into an ordinary man, vulnerable, shaken.

— No, — Evren said firmly, opened the door, and walked out, leaving Yusuf alone in his office…

***

If everything worked, she would never be alone again. Çağla lay with her eyes closed.

— Single embryo transfer procedure, — Bahar’s voice sounded like the first chord of a new melody in Çağla’s life, — extended blastocyst stage, day six after fertilization.

Her own music of life. Çağla knew Bahar was speaking for the surgical record, but she let herself drift away, living in her own reality. She didn’t notice the tear slipping down her cheek, because she saw him — Tolga, smiling at her… and if he was smiling, then she would make it. Their child would survive. She would carry it. She would give birth.