– It doesn’t matter, – she shrugged, her gaze fixed on the fish tank.

– It matters, Bahar, – Evren leaned down, his hands on her shoulders, – it matters a lot, because I don’t live with Naz. There’s nothing between us.

– Maybe you don’t live with her, – she said, trying not to react to his closeness, – but it sure looks like she does. Evren, honestly, I don’t care about your relationship drama.

– There is no relationship! Nothing happened and nothing is happening! – his voice dropped to a whisper near her ear. – Do you really think that after a night with you, I could go into someone else’s arms?

– You left, Evren, – Bahar said calmly. – You left without a word. I only found out today that you stayed in Istanbul, that you have a department now. But you know what? – she paused for a second, then continued, – whether you stay or go, it doesn’t matter anymore. None of it matters.

She was too calm. Her voice too even. He was ready to shout, to tear the place apart—and she had turned to ice. Flat voice, level tone, no emotion.

– It matters, Bahar, it does, – Evren whispered, pressing his cheek against hers.

– Not anymore. Let’s just pretend none of it happened, – she closed her eyes, unable to ignore his closeness, his tenderness, his painfully familiar touch.

– It did happen, – he nodded, rubbing his cheek gently against hers. – I remember everything. I didn’t sleep a second while you rested peacefully. I remember every breath you took.

– I don’t believe you, Evren, – she whispered, squeezing her eyes shut to keep from crying.

– Who did this, Bahar? – he demanded.

– You did, Evren. You did it all yourself, – she whispered, shifting slightly as if to free herself from his hands.

– I… – he clenched his jaw, unable to finish.

– You always leave, Evren, – she continued. – One mistake from me and you turn your back on me.

Now she sat with her back to him, while he stood behind her, still gripping her shoulders. Just inches apart, and neither able to face the other.

– I’ll make you believe again, – he whispered near her ear. – I’m not leaving this time.

– Those are just words, Evren, – she opened her eyes and looked back at the fish.

– I’m staying, no matter what. Here, with you. In this house. Until you accept me, – he closed his eyes, still leaning into her cheek. – I need you. As a woman. As a doctor. As a mother. As a person. I need all of you, Bahar.

– Don’t make empty promises, Evren, – she said quietly.

– I’ll stay anyway, Bahar. Even if not right away—only when you decide, – he leaned down, brushed his lips against her cheek, then slowly straightened and let her go.

She didn’t turn around. Evren picked up their cups and walked to the sink. He washed them, dried them, and placed them on the shelf. Then leaned against the counter, watching her stiff back. She said nothing. Neither did he. He could be patient—she knew that—but she didn’t yet know where he’d direct that iron will this time. She didn’t believe his words, nor his actions. But she still believed in the doctor.

– Let’s go to the living room. There’s more space at the big table, – he said softly, reading her mind.

He stepped toward her and helped her up, pushing the chair back. He wanted to intertwine his fingers with hers, but she pulled her hands away just in time. So he simply gestured toward the living room and picked up the folder.

– You’re not planning to move into my house, are you? – she asked quietly.

– You let the boy stay—Yusuf, right? – he said. – Then surely there’s room for me. You could’ve at least introduced us.

– He’s living in the study, – Bahar replied, not backing down. – There are no free rooms.

– Then find me a spot in your house! – his voice sharpened. – There’s a couch in your bedroom.

– There are several in the living room, – she countered.

– I can sleep here in the kitchen, by the stove. It’s warm, the food and coffee are right here, and you’re here most of the time anyway, – he tried to joke, though he didn’t feel like laughing at all.

– You’re not giving up, are you? – she asked, still not turning to him.

– Not ever again, – he whispered. He almost leaned in to kiss the back of her head.

He wanted to hug her, calm her, convince her—but he also knew she wasn’t ready to accept any of that just yet.

As they stepped into the living room, all eyes turned to them, but no one said a word. Bahar sat first at the table, opened the folder, and picked up a pen. Evren sat beside her. The others joined them, acting as if nothing had happened. They began discussing the operation.

Yusuf no longer tried to understand their relationship. As he got drawn into the surgical planning, he forgot everything he had seen or heard. Umay settled into an armchair, sketching something on her tablet. Parla came downstairs with a towel wrapped around her head. And even when Bahar paused the conversation to brush Parla’s hair, she kept contributing to the discussion.

Evren soaked in every detail—how Bahar led, how she balanced everything without ever showing what was going on inside her. And he knew now, more than ever, he never wanted to walk away again. She hadn’t accepted him yet. But he was in her house… for now, still just a guest…

…Could she come to Bahar’s house and be a guest, just like her daughter was? Rengin rubbed her tired eyes and turned away from the monitor. It had long since grown dark outside, but she was still in her office, unwilling to return to the emptiness of her own home. She knew Parla was staying with Bahar for now, and strangely, she herself was drawn there too—to that warmth, that comfort, that ease. Somehow, no matter where she was, Bahar managed to create a homey atmosphere. Even here at the hospital, in the break room, people naturally gathered around her. She had become a hearth, a center of gravity. What was it in Bahar that Rengin herself lacked?

She stood and walked to the window. What was so special about Bahar that even Timur, while living with her, still gravitated back to Bahar? She sighed. Now she would never find out. Timur was gone. He would never walk through the door, never call, never write. Their story had ended before it ever truly began—scattered fragments, stolen moments, hidden from Bahar. And when the chance to build a life together with Timur finally came, they couldn’t make it work.

– No… – Rengin whispered, turning from the window.

She returned to her desk. She was ready to bury herself in paperwork all night, just to avoid thinking, to avoid blaming herself, to avoid trying to justify Timur’s choices. She needed to let go of the past—accept it, release it—so she could move forward. Somehow, she’d managed to keep Evren here. Or maybe he chose to stay. Either way, they had succeeded: the new department that was just words on paper yesterday was already operational today.

And now this case. Rengin pressed her fingers to her temples. She wanted to trust Evren, truly. But how hard it was to lean on faith alone when lab results and clinical protocols pointed elsewhere.

A soft vibration on her desk pulled her back to reality, interrupting her focus on the very documents she had signed—papers that would allow the plane from America to depart in just a few hours. Soon, they would have to receive a patient for a dual transplant… if she survived the flight.

"How is Esra? Any progress?"—a short, clinical message from Serhat.

Plain. Professional. Male. Rengin stared at it, trying to decipher who had sent it: the doctor, or the father? How should she respond—and to whom? And why did she even care?

Before she could type a reply, her phone rang.

– Yes? – Rengin closed her eyes, elbows on the desk.

– How’s Esra? – Serhat’s voice reached her, strained and tense.

– Stable. Bahar is on top of everything, – she answered just as flatly.

– Bahar hasn’t been to the hospital. Doruk’s been with my daughter the entire time.

– We buried Timur today, – Rengin lowered her head. She didn’t even know why she said it. – Bahar is human too. But she’s handling your daughter’s case, Serhat. She’s in constant communication. She’s up to date with every result. And more than that—she’s likely going to operate tomorrow.

– No, – he replied too quickly. – No, don’t you dare begin without me! I’m coming as fast as I can, but I need time.

– Serhat, you’re Esra’s father, but I won’t let you into the operating room! – Rengin’s eyes opened. She picked up a pen and began twirling it.

– I will be there! – he wasn’t asking. He was asserting.

– What are you afraid of, Serhat? – she asked him bluntly.

She pressed the phone to her ear, but he didn’t answer. So she continued:

– Esra chose Bahar as her doctor. She trusts her. You should too, – she said gently, searching for Esra’s file on her desk. Finding it, she opened it. – All protocols are being followed, Serhat.

– This isn’t about protocols, – his voice had changed.

– I understand, – Rengin’s tone softened. – It’s hard to control others. But I try to believe in them. When everything falls apart, there’s always someone to lean on. And I trust Bahar. And I trust Evren.

– Evren? Evren Yalkın? – he repeated. – He’s going to be part of the operation?

– Evren? No. That’s Bahar’s surgery. He’s handling another one—a dual transplant for a patient from the U.S.

– No, – Serhat cut her off. – No, Rengin. Don’t let Evren Yalkın near my daughter.

– This isn’t a heart transplant, but she— – Rengin didn’t finish.

– I’ve seen what happens to transplant patients, – he interrupted. – I’ve performed so many heart surgeries, so many transplants. Not all of them take. And Esra’s case is unique. Don’t give her false hope. Don’t let Evren near her. He’ll promise her too much.

Rengin blinked and stood up, pacing the office as she listened. His fear spilled into her own chest.

– I know how Evren Yalkın operates. No!

– He’s a good doctor, – Rengin said. – A professional. You can’t make decisions for your daughter just because you’re her father. If we reach the point of a transplant, Evren Yalkın will lead it, – she spoke in short, firm sentences like she was dictating a protocol.

– You’re speaking like an administrator, – he said bitterly.

– That’s what I am, Serhat, – Rengin replied, settling onto the armrest of the couch, crossing her legs. – I keep moving forward not because I can’t stop, but because I must.

– He doesn’t know when to let go. He’ll try to save her, even if he shouldn’t! – Serhat’s voice cracked with emotion.

– Maybe that’s exactly what Esra needs, – Rengin replied. – Someone who won’t stop. Just like Bahar found an option for your daughter.

– This isn’t about professionalism. It’s about Esra, my daughter. She’s not some experiment. Not someone’s redemption arc. Not a chance for someone to prove a point, – Serhat’s words hit hard.

Rengin flinched as if trying to block them out. But he was right—at least partly. She had taken a risk by trusting Evren, by approving the transport, by letting him operate how he wanted. And yes, it could all collapse—or become something new.

– Why do you think Evren needs to prove anything? – she asked, brushing aside her own doubts. – He’s just doing his job. Just as you will, when you step into your new role. You’re not afraid of him—you’re afraid of what hope means for your daughter, – Rengin sighed. – I understand your fear, but this isn’t about him. It’s about you.

She slipped off a shoe and wiggled her toes. The conversation had drained her, left a bitter aftertaste. Serhat was demanding, and she knew working with him would be no easy task.

– You said you buried Timur, – he suddenly changed the subject. – How are you holding up?

Rengin straightened, her back tense, her eyes staring into the distance.

– You’re the first person to ask me that, – she admitted with a blink. – I didn’t realize I wanted someone to ask.

– You said “we.” So he must’ve been important to you, – he said softly, his tone loosening.

Rengin touched her throat with her hand.

– He was. As the father of my daughter, – she said, not quite sure why she was being so honest.

– My condolences. I know what it means to lose someone, – he said. Then silence again.

Rengin was the first to end the call. She held the phone tightly in her hand and turned back to the window, still perched on the couch armrest, gazing out at the lights of the night city. Slowly, uncertainty and fear receded into the shadows, allowing hope to take root.

In that conversation, for the first time in a long while—she hadn’t defended herself, hadn’t justified anything. She had simply been herself. And that meant she could handle it. She would make it through.

She would build her own team: Bahar, Evren, Serhat, Uraz, Siren, Doruk… and many more doctors. She would staff her department so well that the hospital’s ratings would soar.

Rengin smiled—truly smiled—for the first time in what felt like ages. She finally felt like a part of something. A team that might not yet know they were a team, but one day… they would be.

…

– We’re practically a team already, – said Evren in a weary voice, barely stifling a yawn.

His eyes were bloodshot. He’d had several mugs of coffee, and even that wasn’t enough anymore. The table in Bahar’s living room was covered in papers. They had printed everything Jennifer had sent. Analyzing, cross-checking, and rotating the 3D organ models on Umay’s tablet – the operation plan was nearly finalized.

– Yeah, – Uraz stretched and stood up from his chair. – It’s going to be a long surgery.

– We all need proper rest before that, – Siren rested her head on her husband’s shoulder, already half-asleep.

Supporting each other, they went upstairs. Bahar smiled faintly after them, then silently gathered the dirty cups and took them to the kitchen. She instinctively expected him to follow, for them to end up in the kitchen together again. She almost smiled when she heard footsteps, her hands paused mid-motion, and she froze completely. Her breath caught, heart racing… she still reacted to him. She swallowed hard and… exhaled, resuming washing the dishes.

But it was Yusuf who came in. He brought in some bowls, then grabbed a towel and quietly began drying the cups and saucers.

– I’ll check the dishwasher tomorrow, – he murmured, yawning into his hand. – I’ll fix it. – He glanced down at his hands and added shyly, – If I can’t, we’ll have to call a repairman.

Bahar nodded and dried her hands, saying nothing. Just accepting. Her eyes returned to the empty doorway. He hadn’t come in. Hadn’t asked anything. But he clearly hadn’t left either… so what did he want? Or had he left – silently, the way he always preferred?

She frowned slightly and headed to the living room. She was already bracing herself to see the chair empty…

But no. He was there. His head hung low. He had fallen asleep the moment he closed his eyes.

– Evren? – she touched his shoulder, and he almost toppled onto her. She quickly stepped closer, catching him in her arms, holding him up. – Evren… – her hand ran through his hair. – How long have you been awake? – she whispered, glancing back.

– Bahar, I’m going to bed, – Yusuf called from the kitchen. Seeing her supporting Evren, he rushed over.

– Help me, – she asked, supporting Evren from one side, and Yusuf took the other. – Evren, come on, get up, – she whispered, trying not to fully wake him.

She knew this – doctors could fall asleep instantly after too many sleepless nights and still walk if someone helped them. Evren muttered something, but moved his feet, his head bobbing with the rhythm.

They almost dropped him when they each pulled in different directions – Yusuf toward the stairs, Bahar toward the couch. They froze, looking at each other in confusion.

– This way, – Bahar nodded toward the couch.

– Why not upstairs? To your room? – asked Yusuf through a yawn.

– What? – Bahar almost let go of Evren.

– Oh, – Yusuf snapped awake, his face flushed bright red. – That’s not what I meant. Sorry.

Bahar exhaled, not wanting to ask what made Yusuf think Evren should sleep in her room. They got him to the couch and helped him sit. Once Yusuf saw Evren was steady, he made a swift exit.

Bahar didn’t even have time to speak – the boy had vanished upstairs, leaving them alone.

– Stubborn bastard, – she muttered under her breath, tossing a pillow onto the couch. – You got your way after all, – she grumbled, gently lowering his head, then lifting his legs. – You made sure I gave you a place in my house, Evren.

She wanted to hit him, but instead shifted his legs and sat down. She untied his laces and took off his shoes, placing them neatly on the floor. He didn’t move. Just slept, letting her do everything. She sighed, fetched a light blanket, and covered him with it. Bahar paused, studying him as he slept on her couch.

She knew he hadn’t slept in days – he had forced himself to hold out, to finish what he started… but sympathy was the last thing she needed right now.

She turned sharply and went upstairs, shutting her bedroom door tightly behind her… She had nearly walked away from the door, but turned back and locked it. Only after testing the handle and ensuring it was secure did she head for the shower, undressing as she went.

She didn’t even know anymore – was she locking herself in from him… or from herself?

________________________________________

…And she really was running again. From him or herself – she didn’t bother figuring that out.

Bahar woke very early, took a quick shower, and went downstairs. First thing she did – checked on him. Still asleep. Same position she had left him in last night. He hadn’t moved. Bahar smiled faintly and tiptoed into the kitchen.

She hurriedly made breakfast, trying not to wake Evren. She wasn’t ready to talk to him yet. Yes, she had found out he stayed. Yes, he worked at the hospital. Yes, he was opening a department. But she had her own responsibilities. As a mother, she had done her part.

Bahar smiled as she surveyed the breakfast table. She counted the place settings again, making sure there were enough for everyone. Only then did she grab her bag and quietly slipped out, heading off to her medical duties.

She had almost made it outside when a firm grip caught her elbow.

– Running away? – Evren’s hoarse, still-sleepy voice nearly knocked the ground out from under her feet.