— Evren! — Bahar’s voice was so loud, so desperate.

— What happened, Bahar? — Evren flung the door open so hard it slammed against the wall and bounced back.

Uraz smacked his forehead against the door, pushed it forward again, Yusuf crashed into Uraz, and the two of them stumbled into the bedroom, freezing on the threshold.

Bahar was standing on the bed in her pajamas. Her hair a mess, her eyes huge and filled with terror.

— What is that, Evren? — she screamed, pointing at the pillows. — What is that doing in my bed?! — she kicked the big chubby cat-plush, and it rolled off and thumped onto the floor.

Bahar was trembling slightly from the flood of emotions that had overtaken her. Her eyes flashed with anger. She pointed at the bed. On the pillow, cozily nestled among the sheets, lay a huge plush toy — a white goose with a long neck and a silly, kind face.

— Um, — Evren faltered, carefully stepping toward her, — it’s… a goose.

— I can see it's a goose! — Bahar was shaking with indignation. — What is it doing in my bed? — she kicked it again, and the toy slid down and landed at Evren’s feet.

Evren raised his hands as if that could calm her down.

— A hug-goose, — he said in a steady tone. — The shop said pregnant women really need it, — he added, moving toward her little by little. — It supports your back, your belly, and emotional stability.

Yusuf snorted and turned to the wall.

— Emotional stability, sure, — Uraz choked out, bursting into laughter.

— Get out! — Bahar yelled, grabbed a pillow and threw it at her son and Yusuf, reaching down for another.

Yusuf and Uraz, nearly dying of laughter, darted out of the bedroom; the second pillow hit the door and fell to the floor. Evren looked at her, his head tilted back slightly.

— I just wanted you to sleep more comfortably, — he said. — You were tossing and turning all night, — he began.

— So you decided a zoo in the bed was the perfect solution? — Bahar stood on the mattress, arms crossed over her chest.

— It’s not a zoo, — Evren lifted the toy, — it’s a hug-goose, — he repeated with stubborn persistence. — It’s certified, safe for pregnant women. And there, — he pointed to the other side of the bed where the second toy had landed, — is the cat-loaf.

— Evren, — Bahar sighed heavily, — get them out of here right now, out of the bed, out of the bedroom, out of my life!

Evren hugged the goose, pulling it against his chest.

— What if it gets offended? — he looked at her with the most innocent expression.

Bahar was still frowning, her chest rising sharply with each breath.

— Let it be offended, — she closed her eyes, still unable to calm down. — Don’t give me surprises like that, — she asked, not opening her eyes. — I could go into labor early from this, — she swallowed hard and looked at him. — You don’t understand how scared I was when I woke up, crushed between them on both sides, tangled in the blanket? — she exhaled shakily.

Her legs trembled, and she slowly lowered herself onto the bed, sitting down and placing a hand over her chest where her heart was pounding. She looked at Evren hugging that huge white goose, looked into his eyes — eyes filled with genuine confusion about why she didn’t appreciate his surprise. She couldn’t help herself and smiled.

— Why would I need this goose, Evren? — she asked softly now. — I’m going to be hugging you.

Evren stepped closer.

— Only me? — he asked, his eyes gleaming.

— Only you, — she smiled a little wider. — But if you bring me even one more “helper,” I’ll buy a giant black bear and sleep with him — and you can have the couch.

— No! — Evren barked immediately, offended, absolutely firm. — I can’t stand bears! Especially big, soft ones!

Bahar’s eyebrows rose. She tilted her head slightly, studying him.

— Yesterday evening you didn’t eat lemons either, professor, — she reminded him at once. — Are you jealous of the bear? — Bahar snorted. — So you’ll tolerate a goose and a cat-loaf in my arms, but not a bear? — she asked, thinking aloud.

— Wouldn’t you be jealous? — Evren grumbled. — If I slept hugging it? — He set the goose by the bed and sat beside Bahar.

— Jealous of a toy? — she repeated.

Evren picked up the goose and hugged it again, giving her that same innocent look. The goose’s head, perched on its thin neck, rose high above them, its round body sitting comfortably on his lap.

— What if I hug it like this? — he asked, pressing it against himself.

Bahar snorted.

— Comfy? Enjoying yourself? — she asked, a spark lighting up in her eyes.

Evren held that damned goose as if it were truly precious, something he couldn’t allow to slip from his arms. Bahar slowly rose to her knees on the mattress, leaned toward him, tilted her head, and reached out very slowly toward the toy.

— Give it to me, — she said in a sweet, almost tender voice.

— No, — Evren clutched the goose tighter. — It’s mine, — he rubbed his cheek against its long neck. — I’m demonstrating its advantages, — his voice turned a little hoarse.

— Advantages? — Bahar’s smile softened; she placed a hand on his shoulder and leaned in a bit more, their faces almost brushing. — You really think I’d choose the goose over you?

Evren swallowed hard. The goose was stuck between them now, like a ridiculous shield.

— Well… it’s soft, — he tried again, — and safe.

— Safe? — Bahar slowly, very slowly pried his hands aside, deliberately pushing the toy off his lap, letting it fall to the floor. Then she climbed onto his knees, straddling him.

— Bahar… — his arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer.

Bahar glanced down at the goose lying near the bed.

— If anyone in this bedroom is going to be ensuring safety… — with a gentle sweeping motion she slid her fingers along his shoulder, — it’ll be you.

— Right, — Evren nudged the goose away with his foot. — That’s it. He’s fired, — he said in a low voice.

Bahar smiled, ran her hand up his chest, her fingers sliding higher toward his collar; they slipped beneath it, brushing his neck. His breath hitched. He leaned toward her lips, but she pressed a finger to them, stopping him.

— No, — she whispered. — Answer first. Would you really be jealous? Of the bear? The big black one?

— Of anyone, — he breathed out almost silently, — but especially… — his eyes dropped to her lips, — when you look at me like that.

— Like what? — Bahar tilted her head slightly, narrowing her eyes.

— Like you’re already kissing me with your eyes, — he whispered, — and I can’t last another second.

Bahar cupped his face with her hands.

— Then don’t… — she leaned in, teasing, her lips barely brushing his.

He shuddered, reached for her — and she pulled back again.

— Pregnant women aren’t supposed to get stressed, — she whispered, her lips grazing his. — You said so yourself. Emotional stability…

— Stop, — his breathing turned heavy. — You’re doing this on purpose.

— Of course, — she brushed her nose against his, speaking with her breath against his lips, looking straight into his eyes. — Because I like it when you get jealous.

— Then say it again, — Evren asked, his hand gripping her thigh.

— Say what? — she asked innocently.

— That you’ll only hug me, — he leaned toward her lips, and she kept leaning away just enough to deny him.

— Only you, — she whispered, and her lips finally touched his — slow, certain.

He almost growled, pulling her closer but still gently, as if afraid to hurt her, and that only ignited her further.

— And if you bring me even one more toy, — she added softly between kisses, — I’ll buy the bear. Huge. Black. Velvet. Fluffy. And I’ll name him Harunchik.

— Don’t you dare, — Evren jerked back, staring into her eyes.

— I will, — Bahar’s fingers touched his chain, slid lower, closing around the pendant. — And I’ll sleep with Harunchik. Although… — she lifted the pendant to her lips, rolling it near her mouth — Harunchik is too sweet for something big, black, and shaggy… better just Harun.

— No, — he massaged his neck, barely holding himself together.

— Harunchik. Harun, — Bahar nodded, twisting the pendant between her fingers; she tapped its edge against the tip of Evren’s nose.

— Bahar… — Evren’s hand slid to her back, pulling her in again.

She pressed her lips to his once more, and he surrendered entirely to her hands… the hug-goose lay quietly by the bed… like a defeated rival… and from the other side the cat-loaf peeked out… still un-hugged by anyone…

***

None of them was glad to see the other. Ismail stood in the middle of the living room, fingers clenched into a fist, staring at her back. Meryem had walked toward the window; it looked as if she were about to leave, yet she stopped, lingered, as though their conversation wasn’t over.

— You will clear everything with Bahar, — she said, slowly pulling the curtain aside and looking at the Bosphorus in the daylight. — Everything. The research, the protocols, her participation, — Meryem turned to him, — you will never question it again. Or else… — she cut herself off, took a step toward him, — I’ll file a report with the police!

— Are you threatening me? — Ismail’s expression changed.

— I’m warning you, — she replied in an icy tone. — If you refuse, the one who’ll fall under suspicion — she shook her head — will be your new love, Nevra. The two of you were cooing so sweetly here, — she scoffed. — And your reputation will collapse along with hers, Ismail!

— Nevra… left because of you, — Ismail snapped, as if just now realizing he had failed to stop his woman, failed to protect her. — Did you see her eyes? You walked in and accused her right from the doorway! — he gritted his teeth. — You— he didn’t finish.

— I don’t care, — Meryem cut him off sharply. — Your whole hospital will come under fire. All your secrets will crawl out into the light, — she clenched her fists as if ready to hit him. — How you all thought yourselves gods. How Aziz, operating in his own home, killed my sister. Did you assist him? Reha? Which of you? — she demanded. — How he then seduced my niece and killed her in that same house. How your Nevra sent my nephew to an orphanage, — she leaned forward and whispered, — nothing will remain of any of you. Nothing!

Ismail flinched, feeling the ground shift under him.

— What about Evren? — he asked quietly. — Will you put him under fire too?

Her lips twisted into a pained smirk. She stepped back, turned away from him.

— You think you’ve thought everything through? — she turned toward him again. — Hiding behind Evren like a shield!

— We don’t need any of this, — Ismail said softly. — Evren is the hospital’s chief physician now, — he reminded her, narrowing his eyes slightly, stepping toward her. — What will you tell Sert? You… stole his love. Took her with you. Ripped Leyla out of his arms!

Meryem recoiled as if stabbed under the rib.

— He made his choice! — she shouted. — He let Leyla go himself! None of you looked for us! None of you! We weren’t hiding, we lived there — and no one came!

— In America… — Ismail added quietly, breathing heavily. — You left, and our project collapsed. Do you understand how much was invested? What was lost?! — no longer holding back, he raised his voice.

— Yes! In America! — her voice broke. — Where none of you ever showed up. No one! And all you cared about was the money? — she threw straight at him. — You and Sert — because you wasted your fathers’ funds on our project? Because you got scolded like little boys?!

They fell silent, staring into each other’s eyes.

— A project that gave life, — he began.

— Enough! — Meryem strode toward him, her finger jabbing into his chest.

— Enough of what? — Ismail grabbed her shoulders. — Enough hiding the truth? That Evren was the first child of your research — the research your sister agreed to! But— he shook her — we’re telling the truth, right? So let’s go all the way. You started this. You allowed your middle sister to get together with the husband of your dead elder sister. Didn’t you? And then you arranged an experiment. Dragged us into it. You started the research when they kept losing pregnancies, and Keskin already had a daughter from your older sister. A study we invested so much into — that another woman died, and you had to run? That there were couples to whom we gave hope and took it away! What will you tell your nephew, Meryem? That you let your sister get involved with the ex-husband of your elder sister?

Meryem stayed silent, looking into his eyes, making no attempt to push him away.

— Or will you tell him Aziz killed his mother, or that you chose the wrong immunotherapy and her body couldn’t take it? That while you were in America, we did everything we could to save your sister? Where is the truth, Meryem? Where is the guilt?

She pressed her hands against his chest; he loosened his grip, and she stepped aside. She turned away, her shoulders trembling.

— Not only our reputation will be ruined — yours will too, — sensing the crack in her resistance, Ismail pressed on. — So… you’ll sacrifice Reha’s reputation as well? Just for revenge?

Meryem turned to him at once. A shadow fell across her face, and for a moment Ismail thought she might cry.

— You think I’ll spare him? — she asked quietly.

— You… loved him, — Ismail reminded her softly. — Truly. And we all saw it. You and Reha. Sert and Leyla.

Meryem froze. For a second her eyes reddened, and she turned away.

— Me, Aziz. There were six of us, — Ismail continued. — We were young, we believed, — he lifted his hands as if stepping back — and then that woman died, the investigation began, and you ran, and we— he moved toward the window.

— And you all played gods! Aziz killed my sister and seduced my niece, — Meryem whispered. — That’s the truth!

— Easy to accuse from afar, as if you bear no guilt, — Ismail turned, his gaze piercing her. — You’ll destroy everyone, — he whispered, — and Evren first of all!

— Using him as your shield again? — Meryem briefly closed her eyes. — You will sign Bahar’s application! — she reminded him. — I have nothing to lose, Ismail — and Evren can handle it. He has Bahar. He has a family now. A family you all took from him! They won’t let him fall!

Ismail clenched his teeth, breathing heavily as he stared at her.

— And about Reha, — she took the bag from the couch. — You said it correctly, — she added in a hollow voice. — Loved. Past tense, Ismail. Past.

She walked to the door and opened it herself. He watched her straight back, her steady, heavy steps.

— You all think I’m going to destroy your hospital, your lives? — she asked without turning. — It’s not me destroying anything. It’s you — each of you in your own way.

With that, she turned and left. The door closed softly behind her, but that click hit Ismail like a blow. He slowly sank into a chair, staring at the floor, clutching his head in his hands.

Meryem grabbed the railing not to fall. All color drained from her face… the past had defeated them all… and Evren was becoming the prime target…

***

The air outside was growing cooler; it smelled of warm bread, fresh greens… and lemon. Dishes clattered, voices mingled. Yusuf was chopping vegetables. Uraz was arguing with him, insisting that the olives should be arranged in a circle, not in the center. Siren set down a pitcher of ayran. Umay was pouring tea. Bahar sat at the head of the table. Evren draped a blanket over her shoulders, wrapped her in it, and his lips brushed her cheek. He placed a glass of warm milk before her, set a piece of warm flatbread on a small plate, and added another plate with neat slices of lemon.

Bahar looked at him in surprise. He said nothing, just smiled, inhaled deeply with a loud breath, pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders… and in that moment, silence settled over the table. Evren’s face remained calm, though his fingers trembled slightly as he nudged the plate closer to her. Bahar smiled, immediately took a slice… and Evren recoiled, thinking she was about to give it to him. But Bahar caught his hand, drew him down beside her, placed warm pancakes on his plate and drizzled them with honey.

Siren glanced at Uraz, and he awkwardly grabbed the pitcher of ayran and filled her glass. Yusuf placed olives on Umay’s plate… suddenly everyone began caring for one another at once… awkwardly, clumsily… The courtyard filled with a soft rustle, the clink of cups, quiet conversations. On the table stood plates of cheese, olives, eggs, greens, vegetables, pastirma, fig jam, honey, pancakes.

Nevra sat beside Gulchichek. The two women were silent this time. Nevra’s eyes were red, but no one asked anything. Her hands shook as she lifted her cup and nearly spilled her tea. Gulchichek stared at the table thoughtfully, yet seemed to see nothing at all. Her movements were sharp, her breathing quick.

Bahar noticed Evren kept glancing toward the gate.

— Are you expecting someone? — she asked, leaning toward him.

— Ismail and Reha, — he replied simply. — Ever since your mother arrived, I keep waiting for them to show up.

Bahar snorted softly and shook her head; just yesterday he didn’t want to see anyone, and now he was waiting.

— Why? — she asked quietly.

— I don’t believe they just let them go so easily, — he said, looking at Nevra and Gulchichek. — Something must be going on, right? — Evren muttered, frowning slightly. — There, — he almost smiled, — told you, — a car stopped outside the gate.

But it was Parla and Rengin who entered, both quiet; they greeted everyone and sat down at the table. Right after them came Cagla — she, on the contrary, was chirping, smiling, telling them something she’d heard on the radio while driving.

Evren stubbornly kept his gaze fixed on the gate.

— He won’t come, — Nevra whispered, — he stayed with her, — she sniffled and pressed a napkin to her face.

— With whom? — Gulchichek asked quietly, blinking as she looked at her.

— With her, — Nevra froze, as though reliving the morning’s nightmare again and again. — It’s over, — she cast a sidelong glance at Evren, — I don’t belong here, Gulchichek.

— Sit, — Gulchichek’s hand tightened around her wrist. — I’m sitting, and you sit too, smile, — she whispered, — they’re already staring at us!

No matter how hard she tried, Gulchichek’s eyes kept drifting back to the gate… but Reha never arrived… and with each passing minute, the hope of seeing him faded.

Bahar found herself watching everyone.

— Don’t get involved, — noticing her movement, Evren placed a hand on her knee, stopping her.

— But you’re right, something happened, — Bahar whispered, nodding toward her mother and Nevra.

— And why can’t they have their own lives? — Evren asked quietly. — Do you want to put theirs on display too, the way ours was? — he was growing irritated.

Bahar faltered, straightened, blinked, nodded.

— A light breakfast, — she whispered.

— The best kind, — Evren agreed.

They looked at each other, as if silently asking what comes next. Sunlight glimmered in the teacups, leaves cast shifting shadows across the table. Bahar rose, took a plate, and Evren immediately took it from her hands, shook his head, glanced at Uraz and Yusuf. They shot up at once and began clearing the table, baffling Bahar with their sudden eagerness. She blinked at Evren.

— Rest, — he whispered.

— After eating? — her brows arched.

Evren spread his hands. Bahar mirrored the gesture, confused, then quietly laughed.

— We’ll go for a walk then, — she said to the women.

— I want to spend time with the kids, — Siren smiled.

— I’ll join you, — Uraz called from inside the house.

Bahar looked at Evren, not understanding what had happened while she slept — Uraz seemed like a different person, setting the table, clearing it, wanting to spend time with the children.

— We’ll stay home, — Gulchichek sighed, turning away from the gate.

— Let’s go, — Nevra stood at once, and the two disappeared into the house without explaining anything.

— Mom, what’s wrong with the grandmas? — Umay approached Bahar.

Bahar wrapped an arm around Umay’s waist and kissed her cheek.

— They’re in a sad mood today, — Bahar whispered. — Come with us, Parla, — she called out, — enough staring at your phone.

Parla opened her mouth to protest, but shoved the phone into her jeans pocket instead. Evren smiled. Bahar, Cagla, and Rengin left the courtyard first. Parla and Umay followed. Bahar took Cagla and Rengin by the arm, walking between them. Evren frowned slightly — their stride was oddly similar. He shook his head and, brushing off the thought, headed toward the pool…

***

A light gust of wind swept past, tore a dry leaf from a tree and tossed it onto the fresh earth. Kamil stood before the grave. He hunched his shoulders, as if carrying the unbearable weight of his own thoughts upon them. Kamil stared at the damp soil.

— I promised you a house by the sea, — he whispered, his voice breaking. — I promised you a son. I promised I would never leave you alone… — he clenched his teeth. — But I did. I left you there, on that cold operating table. Alone.

The wind struck harder. Kamil turned, as if afraid someone might hear him.

— She told me it was too late, — his face twisted. — That it was already too late, that your levels were unstable, that your condition was critical, that they were observing… observing! — he slashed the air with his fist. — As if you were her experiment!

He breathed heavily, gulping at the air… he spoke, but the cemetery answered only with silence.

— You asked for help, Ayşe! I saw it. I saw you losing strength… — he ran a hand over his face. — And that Bahar of theirs… — his breath hitched. — She looked at me as if I was supposed to wait! Wait for you to die!

Whispering, he crouched down and placed his palm on the cold earth.

— Our little boy died, they didn’t even take him away, — he whispered, closing his eyes as a tear slid down his cheek. — They kept stalling. Hoping you’d hold on. That your liver would miraculously start working. And then she said — I’m very sorry, — he fell silent for a moment, his lips trembling. — Your wife has died, — his mouth opened in a soundless scream.

Kamil tugged at his collar, as if a noose had tightened around his throat. His fingers dug into the soil, black, wet crumbs packing beneath his nails.

— Everyone writes to me, — he went on hoarsely. — Everyone knows. People say I’m right, that medicine killed your family, that I should search for the truth, demand an investigation, — his voice wavered, and he bent over the damp earth. — They gave thousands of likes, thousands, — he let out a bitter laugh, — means you didn’t die in vain, Ayşe. People heard you, — his eyes gleamed. — They write that this is… medical negligence. That it’s murder. That I must get to the truth.

He rose slowly.

— And I will, Ayşe, — Kamil whispered. — I swear to you, she will pay. Dr. Bahar Özden will pay for your death, for the death of our son! She will not escape judgment! — his fists tightened.

He stood there, staring at the earth as if trying to hear her breath beneath that cold layer. Then he turned sharply and walked away without looking back. With each step, his back grew harder, straighter. And there was no pain or weakness left in his stride — only determination. Only the hatred he had allowed to grow inside him…

***

The plane trees had grown wide crowns, though they had already shed part of their leaves, and now the wind lazily chased them along the path between the houses and the road. Three women walked side by side, holding on to one another, moving forward. From time to time, each woman’s hand drifted to her stomach — silently, unconsciously, as if checking the pulse of the life growing inside.

Bahar would sometimes dart ahead, as if scouting the path. Rengin caught every gust of wind, as though her calm depended on it. Cagla looked around with a smile, afraid to miss something important. She kept stepping aside, moving ahead, lingering by a flowerbed.

Behind them walked Umay and Parla. Their voices, like two different notes, blended into one chord.

— I’m telling you, it’s indigo, — Parla said confidently.

— Parla, it’s just blue, — Umay threw her hands up. — An ordinary color.

The women turned around. Bahar smiled, exchanging glances with Rengin. This light-hearted bickering between the girls was exactly what they needed — a reminder that life could still sound simple.

— I think they could argue like this all their lives, — Rengin sighed.

— They have one father, — Bahar replied calmly. — Timur’s stubbornness in two versions.

— And the volume? — Cagla chimed in.

— That’s from all sides at once, — Bahar answered, and they all burst out laughing.

They walked along the houses, and the smell of paint grew stronger.

— Why are we going this way? — Rengin pulled out a handkerchief and pressed it to her nose.

— Because Bahar intuitively chooses places where adventure waits, — Cagla said, laughing.

— That’s the gentle version, — Bahar smirked. — Usually you call it “chaos.”

— But where exactly are we going? — Rengin insisted. — I’ll go wherever you go, but… where is that?

— We’re just walking, — Bahar said.

— Then why are we going where it reeks of paint? — Rengin winced.

— Because Bahar loves complicating life, — Cagla added immediately.

— This is what you call friendship? — Bahar asked.

— The most honest kind, — Rengin replied.

Cagla wanted to respond, but suddenly froze, listening.

— Wait, — she turned toward a narrow alley. — Hear that?

— What? — Bahar stopped.

Cagla took a step toward the alley.

— A kitten is meowing somewhere, — she whispered.

— Cagla, seriously? — Rengin rolled her eyes and pressed the handkerchief harder against her nose.

— I’ll just check, — Cagla said and headed quickly toward the sound.

— I already heard it too, — Bahar waved a hand and followed her friend.

Cagla turned into the alley. She walked between the houses, where the shade grew denser, and an old plane tree’s thick branch hung over the path. Squinting to see better, Cagla lifted her head, took another step — and the tree answered her attention instantly. The branch cracked. Cagla gasped and jumped aside just as a solid male figure dropped from somewhere above and landed beside her in a soft cushion of fallen leaves. A small gray kitten trembled in his hands, meowing pitifully.

— Cagla! — Bahar shouted and rushed to her.

Cagla flinched, pressing her hands to her chest as she stared wide-eyed at the tiny gray miracle in those large, strong hands. The man blinked, trying to focus.

— I’m sorry… I think I… broke the tree, — he said.

— Bahar, — Rengin ran up to them.

The kitten meowed again, digging its tiny claws into the man’s skin. The stranger sighed, exhaled — enduring with iron patience — and suddenly his expression changed.

— You’re… not a dog, are you? — he held the kitten away a little, staring at its face. — I can’t… you… ah-choo, — he sneezed and stood up.

— Then why are you climbing trees? — Cagla put her hands on her hips — or tried to — but the man shoved the kitten into her arms.

— Because he was in the tree, — he gasped and sneezed again, tugging at his shirt collar. — And I… was trying… ah-choo!

— Why did you give him to me? — Cagla immediately tried to hand the kitten back.

— No-no, hold it, ah-choo, — the man managed to pass the soft, fluffy, meowing bundle back to Cagla.

— No, take it, I’m pregnant! — Cagla exclaimed.

— And he’ll kill me! — the man croaked.

— But you climbed up there yourself, — Cagla struggled to shove the kitten back into his hands.

The kitten meowed again, as if agreeing with both of them.

— Let me, — Bahar stepped in and took the kitten from Cagla. — What a little miracle you are, and what should we call you? — she smiled, examining it.

— No, give it to me, — Rengin couldn’t resist and took the kitten from Bahar. — I’m not allergic, and you have fish, — she reminded her.

Rengin pressed the kitten to her chest, and it instantly calmed, curled into a tiny ball, tucked its nose against her stomach and purred as though it had found its person.

The man could barely stay on his feet.

He wobbled and collapsed at Cagla’s feet. Bahar immediately knelt beside him.

— What did we miss? — the girls ran up to them.

— Look at me, — Bahar snapped her fingers before his eyes, — no-no-no, breathe, — she urged.

— Did you hit yourself? — Cagla asked, lowering herself down with effort, supporting her small belly.

— Only… my pride, — he whispered, closing his eyes; his skin was turning gray.

— We need to free his breathing, — Bahar said quietly. — Take off your shirt.

— Me? — the man opened his eyes. — In front of you? Here? Outside?

— Do you want to breathe or be embarrassed? — she asked, astonished.

— I… I… ah-choo… breathe… Paint, — he whispered faintly, — and the cat, it’s all… ah-choo…

Bahar lifted her gaze to the freshly painted house façade.

— Makes sense, — Cagla said, glancing in the same direction. — Someone definitely overdid it here.

— Did you paint this? — Rengin asked, leaning over him.

— Girls, — Bahar said without even turning. — Home. First-aid kit. Antihistamines.

— On it! — they chorused and took off running.

The man tried to steady his breathing, but his chest rose heavily.

— Relax, — Bahar said. — It’ll get easier soon.

— I… I’ll try, — he turned pale, then flushed, his eyes rolling slightly.

Bahar and Cagla exchanged looks. Bahar began unbuttoning his shirt, leaned close to his chest, trying to hear his heartbeat. And that was exactly the position Evren found her in — her cheek pressed to the bare chest of another man.

— What’s going on here? — the familiar voice made her straighten at once.

Evren dropped to his knees immediately, pushing Cagla aside. Yusuf held out an arm to keep the girls from getting closer.

— A walk, right, Bahar? — Evren asked as he drew medication into a syringe.

— I was helping him, Evren, — Bahar tore open an alcohol pad. — He had trouble breathing. Did you want me to give him mouth-to-mouth?

— And you would have! — Evren snatched the pad from her and injected the antihistamine into the man’s arm. — I have no doubt at all!

The man’s breathing slowly steadied; the redness faded from his face. Rengin, holding the kitten, stayed farther away. The girls stood beside her, taking turns stroking the kitten in her arms.

The man opened his eyes… and froze when he met Evren’s gaze. Evren turned pale, recoiled… stood.

— Bahar, — he said through his teeth, — we’re leaving.

— Evren, — Bahar didn’t understand anything. — Evren?!

— Evren Yalkın, — the stranger raised himself, and Bahar helped him, supporting his arm.

Evren tensed, clenched his jaw, eyes fixed on her hand touching the man.

— Dr. Carter, — Evren forced out.

Rengin, Bahar, and Cagla stared at the two men in surprise.

— Dr. Carter Özer… you’re an oncologist…, — Rengin finally recalled. — Yes-yes-yes, I’ve read your papers, — she stepped forward and extended her hand. — I wanted to meet you at the last congress.

— Don’t come near me with that creature, — Carter yelped, stepping back.

Rengin froze. Cagla watched him with fascination — this big man terrified of a tiny kitten.

— Bahar, Rengin, Cagla, home! — Evren barked, giving no explanations.

— Dad! — a bright voice lifted some of the tension, and a tall, skinny young man with glasses ran up to them. — You went up there to save the kitten? — he exclaimed. — I told you I’d finish and get him down myself.

Umay and Parla stared at him with interest. He was holding a paintbrush, which made Rengin step several paces back — the smell of paint hit sharply.

— Ekrem, I’m fine, — Carter said, glancing at Bahar. — They saved me, — he leaned on the young man’s shoulder.

— Özer? — Bahar repeated and looked at Evren, then back at Carter. — You… — she didn’t finish.

— Bahar, Cagla, — Evren called, cutting her off. — Home, — he stepped toward her and looked straight into her eyes. — We’re going home!

— Evren, but— — Bahar began.

Evren took her by the arm with one hand and touched Cagla’s shoulder with the other — she had frozen, staring at the man; a leaf was tangled in his hair. She rose onto her toes, plucked the leaf out, and slipped it into his hand.

— A souvenir from our meeting, — she whispered, smiling. — Such a big man, such a tiny kitten, — she shook her head and laughed.

As Yusuf passed Ekrem, he gave him a serious look.

— Better stay away, — he muttered, unconsciously copying Evren’s tone.

Parla flushed. Umay tensed. They had no idea what had just happened.

Rengin stroked the kitten. Cagla looked at Carter again, as if she wanted to say something important. Carter, however, was watching Evren.

— So…, — he began.

— Later, — Evren cut him off. — Enough!

They turned and walked toward the house. The whole group, moving like some sort of domestic caravan.

And behind them, in the shadow of the tree, remained the lingering trace of a stranger’s old fate — one that had now silently slipped into their lives just as the kitten had: quietly, accidentally, forever.

***

They had once met here by chance… The roof of the old hotel still breathed with warmth, as if it, too, remembered their footsteps. There had once been a café here for med students; now it was a closed-off terrace, empty, abandoned. This was where they used to sit after exams.

Reha stepped out onto the roof and saw her back — straight, familiar all the same, steady — and his heart clenched so hard it stole his breath, as if those forty years had never passed, as if it had only been forty hours, forty minutes, forty seconds.

Meryem stood by the parapet. The wind played with her short hair; she clutched the railing as if holding herself back from something.

Reha evened out his breathing and only then came closer, stopping two steps behind her.

— You’re late. Just like then, — Meryem didn’t even turn.

Reha couldn’t move any closer, as though it was simply impossible to take another step.

— Back then I— — he began.

— Chickened out, — she finished.

— Yes, I was afraid, — he exhaled, and the wind carried his breath away.

Meryem turned her head just a little. It was enough — painfully enough — for him to see the years in her eyes. The strength. And the wound that still hadn’t healed.

— I had the tickets, — she reminded him, looking off to the side. — I waited for you at the airport like some naïve little girl, — Meryem swallowed. — I kept thinking, you’ll walk in any second now. Any second. In a minute, — she shook her head, as if she still hadn’t made peace with it, — and then I realized that we both knew how to heal people, but we had no idea how to leave gracefully.

Reha took half a step and froze. His hands trembled, as if they wanted to touch her shoulders, but stayed hanging in the air.

— I thought, — he began, — that I had no right to interfere with your dream. You were flying there… so high… I was afraid I’d drag you down.

— And I was afraid to fly alone, — she replied.

He closed his eyes. Just for a second, as if the pain were physical.

— I’m sorry, — Reha whispered.

— I won’t say “I forgive you,” — Meryem answered quietly. — That’s not why I’m here.

She stepped aside — not closer, not farther, just enough for the wind to pass between them.

— But you do have the right to hear this, — she went on. — I had a life. A hard one. An interesting one. Not perfect, — she looked at him openly. — And maybe, if you had come with me back then… it would have been a different life, — she fell silent. — I could never quite picture it to the end, — she coughed, a shadow passing over her face, — a life with you in it.

— Why not? — Reha asked, frowning slightly.

Meryem smiled a little, looking at him with a bitterness that said she’d long since decided not to be afraid of this wound.

— Because in that life I would have expected too much from you, — she said, then turned away from him. — And I knew that was the one thing that scared you most. You were afraid of being someone’s fate.

Reha clenched his fingers, forcing himself to stay where he was.

— I panicked, I was afraid, — he admitted. — I convinced myself you’d be better off without me, — he drew a slow breath. — And you know what the worst part is?

— Tell me, — her shoulders trembled slightly, and she turned toward him.

— I came to the airport anyway, — he whispered, barely audible, — later.

— Later? — Meryem looked straight into his eyes.

— I stood where you were supposed to be, — he went on. — But you’d already left. And that… was the right thing for you, — he dropped his gaze. — But I never forgave myself for it.

She closed her eyes. Her lips quivered; she herself didn’t seem to know what was rising up in her — anger, pity, the urge to hit him or simply to hug him.

— That’s the kind of love we had, — she said softly. — The kind that is always half a step behind, always just a little too late.

— I’m glad you’re here, — he tried to smile.

— And I’m glad I can look at you without pain, — Meryem replied. — Almost.

The wind picked up, lifting her short hair. She tightened her fingers, as if holding herself in place, drawing a line.

— Are you happy? — he asked, and he knew he was terrified of her answer.

— Yes, — Meryem said. — And no, — she lifted her chin. — My life turned out. I did everything I could. I loved. I made mistakes. I saved people, — she coughed and took out a handkerchief, pressing it to her lips, — and still, sometimes I think: what if you had… — she didn’t finish.

Reha stepped closer, close enough to feel her breath, but didn’t touch her.

— I love my wife, — he said quietly, honestly. — Truly.

— I know, — she didn’t even flinch. — And that’s how it should be, — her eyes grew moist for a moment. — What we had… didn’t disappear. It just became a story. One neither of us can erase, — a tear rolled down her cheek.

Reha lifted his hand and froze, his fingers hovering a few centimeters from her skin. His hand trembled.

— May I? — he asked.

— No, — she said, shaking her head. — Don’t, — Meryem smiled. — It’s better for both of us that way.

Reha let his hand fall. They stood almost side by side, but not together. Close, without the right to come any closer. A strange silence settled over them, as if all of Istanbul were holding its breath and listening to their unlived, never-happened life.

— Thank you for coming, — Meryem whispered through her tears. — And thank you for not coming back then as well, — she slowly turned to him. — I learned how to live without you, Reha, but I just can’t manage to forget, as if I can’t turn the page, you understand? And I need to do that, Reha, — her voice held so much pain it was almost a scream. — Help me, — she pleaded, — put a period at the end!

— Meryem… — Reha breathed out. — Forgive me.

She looked at him over her shoulder, her gaze deep, clear, steady.

— Are you asking forgiveness for breaking my heart? — she asked. — Or for the fact that I still couldn’t stop thinking about you?

— For everything, — Reha lowered his eyes, hiding the tears gathering there. — We… — he swallowed, — we thought we would get married, Meryem.

She turned fully then. In her eyes, the city was reflected — and the shadow of the girl she had once been.

— We did, — she echoed. — I had the tickets, — she reminded him. — And you?

Reha dropped his gaze. His fingers tightened, as though he were holding an invisible little box.

— The rings, — he whispered.

The wind tore the word away like a leaf from a tree. Meryem held her breath for a second.

— The rings, — she almost smiled, brushing a fingertip over the ring finger of her left hand, — the ones we never got to put on.

Her hand trembled; she touched her side and immediately pulled her hand back, straightening up.

— Are you feeling unwell? — he asked.

— Just tired, — she answered too quickly and stepped farther away. — Don’t you dare come any closer, — she added softly, almost gently. — I don’t want to go back to the place we barely escaped from.

He lifted his hand as if to touch the air near her, not her herself.

— I’ll drive you home, — he said. — Nothing more.

— No, — she shook her head. — There’s no need.

— You’re not well, — Reha frowned slightly.

— That’s not your concern, — she said quietly. — Carrying me in your arms forty years later.

She took a step, and her knees buckled. Reha managed to catch her, holding her with a single touch — at once forbidden and inevitable. Meryem clutched at his elbow for just a second and then drew back.

— Let go, — she whispered. — This can’t happen again; you’re married!

— Then at least let me drive you home, — he said, watching her very closely.

Meryem held on to the parapet, looking at him as if trying this closeness on against the whole of her life — and then she let him come nearer. She held out her hand, and he closed his fingers around her cold ones. He placed her hand on his arm, and they slowly headed toward the stairs.

They walked side by side, but not together. At a distance they had finally learned to bear. And still, they both had the sense that only now were they doing what they hadn’t managed back then — finally taking a step forward…

***

They could do nothing. The room was too small for the two of them, for two volcanoes they were barely holding inside. Nevra, standing by the window, clutched the sill. Gulchichek sat on the edge of the bed, but every muscle in her body was taut to the limit, as if she could jump up at any second. Both were silent — and then suddenly spoke at the same time.

— She’s going to ruin my life, — Nevra breathed in a trembling voice. — She’ll tell everything, and I didn’t even get a chance to be happy. I only allowed myself a little. Just a little.

— He didn’t come home, — Gulchichek clenched her hands; rage rang in her voice. — For the first time since we got married. A man doesn’t come home only when he’s better off somewhere else.

She got up and began pacing Nevra’s bedroom. Gulchichek didn’t hear what Nevra was saying, and Nevra didn’t hear Gulchichek.

— I… I never interfered in anything, — Nevra gripped the windowsill even tighter, — I always stayed in the shadows, like Aziz asked, always on the sidelines while they did their business. The project of the century, that’s what they called it, all six of them, gathering here at our house, and I’d serve drinks like some maid. And now a man has finally seen me, noticed me and what? She’s shown up again.

— I never demanded that he be by my side all the time, — Gulchichek grabbed the curtain in both hands, — I just wanted him to be home, to know he was all right. And that “I’ll be there soon” of his is the worst of all. And now there’s her on top of it.

— She’s back, — Nevra whispered, — and I’ll disappear again, as if I never existed, because the world has always revolved around Meryem Özkan — forty years ago and now.

— She’s back, — Gulchichek echoed, — and his whole world just blurred. His chest is on fire, his old love blazing up again?! And I’m what, the shadow of their youth, of their mistakes?!

Both women fell silent and looked at each other.

— She’ll disgrace me, — Nevra said, wrapping her arms around herself. — She’ll say a couple of words and everything will collapse. Ismail— — she broke off and fell quiet.

— I can’t take this oppressive waiting, — Gulchichek answered. — I spent so many years in a marriage waiting for my husband, who cheated and strayed, then came back… — she faltered, went silent, then continued, — and whether he comes back or doesn’t — it hurts just the same, — she shook her head. — We’ve been married two months. Two — that’s not years, it isn’t even habit yet. It’s— — she drew a hard breath, — it’s still only hope.

They fell silent again. Nevra closed her eyes, trying to breathe. Gulchichek started pacing the room once more.

— What, does he expect me to put on a nurse’s robe and trail after him like a child? — Gulchichek whispered. — Then let him go to her, to his young love! Let him! It doesn’t hurt! It doesn’t hurt at all! — as soon as she said it, she pressed her palm to her heart.

— But it hurts me! — Nevra’s breathing hitched. — Because she said everything! Everything, looking me right in the eyes! — she began to mimic Meryem. — You ruined his life! You sent the boy to an orphanage! You lived someone else’s life! You achieved nothing! — Nevra sobbed. — And she’s right, Gulchichek, I have nothing and no one, I don’t even have a real family. No one sees me.

— You think Reha sees me? — Gulchichek exploded. — Does he see that his wife is at home? That his wife has feelings?!

They looked at each other, each living through her own private tragedy.

— I have no future, — Nevra whispered.

— And I have no present, — Gulchichek replied.

And unexpectedly, both of them sat down on the bed at the same time.

— Gulchichek… — Nevra sighed. — No one needs me.

— Me neither, — Gulchichek turned away. — Who needs a woman pushing sixty who bustles around all day like a hen?

They fell silent again.

— I can’t stay here, — Nevra whispered. — I need to leave before they throw me out, because I’m nobody to them. And now she’s come to take revenge for Evren, — Nevra murmured, lowering a hand to her stomach; unspoken pain flickered in her eyes, the kind she’d learned to hide behind sarcasm and arrogance.

— I can’t stay here, — Gulchichek echoed.

— I’ll go anywhere, — tears flashed in Nevra’s eyes.

— Me too, — Gulchichek got to her feet. — I don’t want to be where he might show up reeking of her perfume.

— I have to leave or I’ll go crazy, — Nevra pressed her palms to her temples.

— I have to leave too, — Gulchichek said quietly. — Otherwise I’ll…

She didn’t finish. They reached the door almost at the same time. Together they went down the stairs, walked outside — and ran into Evren and Bahar.

— Evren, — Bahar began, then stopped short when she saw Gulchichek and Nevra.

— Don’t start, Bahar, — Evren tried to stop her and turned around.

— Mom, — Bahar walked up to Gulchichek, — what’s going on?

— I’m leaving, — she answered sharply, walking past them, not looking at them, as if they were guilty too.

— I’m going with her, — Nevra muttered, embarrassed in front of Evren, and slipped in behind Gulchichek.

— Where are you going? — Bahar hurried after them.

— To my place, — Gulchichek replied.

— To hers, — Nevra whispered.

They both glanced at each other and stepped out of the yard.

— Mom… — Bahar breathed. — Please.

— Don’t try to stop me, — Gulchichek said flatly. — I’m not coming home tonight.

— And I’m not staying here, — Nevra didn’t dare look at them.

— What even happened? — Bahar was at a loss.

Bahar and Evren followed them almost by inertia. A taxi was already waiting by the gate.

— Gulchichek, — Nevra whispered, — just don’t leave me alone, — she begged.

— Let’s go, — Gulchichek nodded.

— Mom, please, — Bahar grabbed her hand, — you didn’t leave Reha, did you?

— And why not? — Gulchichek asked quietly. — Maybe he’s already left me.

Bahar went pale. Evren shook his head, completely lost.

— Nevra? — Bahar tried to get at least some kind of answer from her.

— No one needs me, — Nevra whispered dully, not looking at Bahar, and pulled away.

She was the first to get into the taxi. Gulchichek, still holding Bahar’s hand, turned — and at that very moment, not far from Bahar’s house, another taxi pulled up, and Reha got out of it. Gulchichek seemed to go limp, her heart pounding in her chest — he’d come… no. Under the streetlamp he bent down, offering his hand, and from the taxi, with his help, stepped a woman. Meryem.

Evren swayed. Gulchichek grabbed the car door and managed to stay on her feet. Bahar looked first at Evren, then at Gulchichek. And they all froze, watching Reha and Meryem.

***

Meryem stopped in front of Reha. She stood very close, as if decades of separation had never existed between them. Her breathing had steadied, but her shoulders trembled slightly — not from the cold, but from everything she had finally allowed herself to let go.

— Thank you for walking me home, — she whispered.

The words drifted into the coolness of the approaching evening and seemed to dissolve instantly. Reha nodded, just looking at her, as if he no longer saw the girl from the terrace, but a stranger standing before him. She stepped back as if preparing to leave, but then stopped, slowly opened her bag, and took out a folded sheet of old, nearly faded paper. Reha gripped the car for support; his mouth fell open, as if all the air had been torn from his chest and he couldn’t breathe in. A gust of wind brushed her hair.

— I… should have thrown it away long ago, — she said, as if the words cost her effort, — but I couldn’t, — she took a step toward him. — It was always with me, — she went on, — not as hope, but as a memory of who we could have been.

She didn’t let him respond. She stepped forward abruptly, her lips brushing his for a brief, trembling moment, and slipped the unused airline ticket into the pocket of his shirt. Reha jerked as if struck, unable to pull away before she had already stepped back, as though nothing had happened.

— Goodbye, Reha, — Meryem coughed, pulled out a handkerchief, and pressed it to her lips.

At that moment her legs buckled. She grabbed for the wall, but her fingers slid, as if someone had knocked the ground out from beneath her.

Bahar inhaled sharply. Evren tensed, already sensing what was coming.

— Mom, — a male voice called out, and Carter ran to her.

— Grandma, — Ekrem appeared from behind the gate.

Reha turned pale, swayed. He watched them catch her by the arms on both sides — and now all three were looking at him. At the man who had personally erased himself from their lives.

— You… — he began, but his voice broke. — You told me… you said you had an abortion. That it was too early for us.

— And you believed me, — she replied, not looking away. — Because it was convenient for you.

— A family reunion?! — Gulchichek whispered in disbelief, got into the taxi, and slammed the door.

She couldn’t even cry — something inside her had shattered. She clenched her hands and gave the driver the address. Nevra covered her face with her palms, not noticing that another car had pulled up to the gate, and Ismail stepped out.

Bahar looked at Evren, forgetting for a moment about Gulchichek, and the taxi drove off, taking both women away.

Carter Özer was Evren’s cousin, and Ekrem was his nephew. So she had understood correctly. Meryem Özkan hadn’t just been strolling past their house yesterday. She had bought the house next door; they had renovated it.

— Evren, — Bahar whispered. — That means…

— Yes. The ones I was never wanted by, — he replied. — Professor— — Evren rushed to Reha.

Bahar ran after him, and Ismail hurried behind, having no idea what was happening but heading toward them as soon as he saw Meryem and Reha clutching his chest.

Meryem and Carter were watching Evren, but he ignored them, supporting Reha from one side while Bahar took the other. Now they all stared at each other, with Ismail standing slightly to the side.

— I saw Gulchichek drive off, — Ismail began. — But where’s Nevra? — he asked as if nothing else in the world mattered.

— Gulchichek? — Reha flinched. — She saw all of this?

— Saw what? — Meryem whispered and turned her head.

— Mom, don’t, — Carter steadied her. — Let’s go.

Ekrem offered his shoulder, taking his grandmother’s weight gently. He looked at Reha with open curiosity — he clearly had questions. Carter sighed, pausing on Reha’s face. Meryem struggled for breath, but she stayed conscious.

— I’m sorry, Bahar, — she whispered. — I wasn’t wandering here last night. I live here now, — she pointed to the nearby house. — We’re neighbors, — Meryem clarified.

Evren went white, his eyes burning into Bahar — everything about him said: You saw Meryem Özkan and didn’t tell me.

Carter and Ekrem led Meryem into the yard and closed the door. Bahar stared at the white façade, the smell of fresh paint drifting around the neighborhood. Meryem hadn’t been near their gate by accident. Evren still supported Reha. Bahar shook her head — then where had Yusuf driven her yesterday?

— Gulchichek, I must— — Reha murmured, lips dry.

His face had gone ashen. He clutched at his chest, and Bahar and Evren grabbed him by the elbows at the same time, holding him up.

— Careful! — Bahar said, alarmed. — Professor, breathe deeply.

— I… — Reha gasped for air, — I don’t want her to… leave… like this… — he couldn’t finish.

— Mom? — Bahar snapped back to reality and looked around. — Have they left? — panic crept into her voice.

— They? — Ismail seized on the word instantly. — Reha, — he stepped in front of him, — we need to move.

— Where? — Bahar panicked — she didn’t know whether to resuscitate the professor or run after Gulchichek.

— We need to stabilize him first, — Evren insisted.

The three of them headed toward the house.

— Where could they have gone? — Ismail demanded, stern and anxious.

— Only to Gulchichek’s place, — Reha mumbled; he was walking but his legs were giving way. — Let’s go, — he stopped abruptly.

— Professor— — Evren began.

— Reha, — Bahar checked his pulse.

— My wife first, — Reha whispered, — everything else after.

Evren lowered his head slowly. Everyone chose their own path in life… and again Reha chose what he believed was right — but was it right for anyone else? He looked at the freshly painted façade, the house where his aunt now lived with her son and grandson. And Bahar — Evren turned his gaze to her. She’d known, she’d known that Meryem was already in Istanbul and said nothing. Questions tore inside him, but he stayed silent.

Ismail settled Reha in the front seat despite all of Bahar’s and Evren’s protests. The car’s headlights flickered, and it disappeared around the corner. Evren turned to Bahar, but Rengin and Parla stepped out of the house. Parla was holding the kitten.

— We’re heading out, — Rengin said. — We still need to buy everything for the new family member, — she smiled.

Bahar and Evren nodded and said goodbye. Before they could even follow them with their eyes, Cagla flitted out of the house.

— Stay, — Bahar grasped her friend’s wrist.

— I can’t, — Cagla whispered.

The third taxi drove away… and Bahar turned to Evren.

— Nothing you want to tell me? — he asked at once, motioning her through the gate and letting her walk ahead.

— Evren, — Bahar stepped inside.

They stopped by the gate. Bahar took a step toward him, but he leaned back slightly, looking into her eyes. They fell silent. Their breaths matched — and yet with each breath it grew heavier, the air thicker, as if a storm were about to break…