Even though they were in the hospital, she still tried to keep everything under control. For Gulchichek, it mattered that Reha ate food prepared by her own hands. She had risen before dawn, slipped out of the ward, and returned hours later, when the room was still dim, the only light a pale patch spilling from the lamp onto the white sheets.

She entered quietly, carrying a thermos and containers. Reha was already sitting up in bed, reading a medical journal. His hand kept drifting to his chest, his face tense, lips dry.

— I brought soup, — she said carefully, her eyes fixed on him. — Warm. Not that hospital broth of yours, but real, homemade, — she added proudly, setting the bags on the nightstand.

Reha tried to smile and placed the journal on his lap.

— Are you turning my ward into a restaurant? — he asked with a faint smile, wiping the sheen of sweat from his forehead.

— Better a restaurant than a cemetery, — she shot back, noticing his sharp intake of breath. — You’re clutching your chest again? — she narrowed her eyes at him.

— Just lying awkwardly, — he answered too quickly, avoiding her gaze.

Gulchichek sat beside him and took his hand.

— Reha, don’t lie to me, — she made him look at her. — You think I don’t see? You pale when you get up, — she looked straight into his eyes. — You wince when you think I’m not watching.

— I don’t want you to worry, — he muttered stubbornly, staring at the landscape painting on the wall.

— And I already worry! — her voice carried a quiet urgency. — You’re a doctor, you know better than me that hiding pain only makes it worse! And for me… — her voice faltered, — it means living in fear all over again. First Timur at Bahar’s, now you. I can’t survive another.

Reha turned, his eyes softened.

— I’m afraid of being weak in front of you, Gulchichek, — he admitted. — All my life I’ve been the one holding everyone else up. And now… I can’t even get out of bed without pain. I can’t sleep without pills.

— And I’m afraid I’ll lose you if you keep pretending to be strong, — she sighed, squeezing his hand tighter. — I don’t need the professor who pretends everything is easy. I need the man I love — with all his weaknesses.

Reha fell silent, lowered his head, then clasped her fingers.

— Then forgive me, — he said softly. — I’ll try to be honest. Even if I look ridiculous.

Gulchichek smiled through her tears and pulled the chair closer.

— That’s settled then, — she adjusted his pillow. — First you eat the soup, then you take your medicine. No excuses, — she ordered in a firm, commanding tone. — Enough. You’ve lectured all your life, now it’s your turn to listen.

— With this kind of control, — Reha smirked faintly, — I hardly need to be a professor anymore.

— Exactly, — she sniffed. — You’ve got a head doctor at home now.

Gulchichek lifted the journal from his lap and set it on the nightstand, and for the first time in days, both of them laughed easily…

***

For the first time in so many days, he had slept peacefully, at ease. Evren woke first, when soft daylight was already slipping through the curtains. He turned sharply, breath catching in his chest. For a split second he feared that everything from the night before had been only a dream… but no. Bahar was lying beside him, her hand clutching the edge of the sheet, a smile frozen on her lips, the ring gleaming so clearly on her finger. She was dreaming of something—he didn’t care what or who, Evren only longed to be at the center of her world.

His lips brushed her bare shoulder; he drew closer, buried his face in her neck, nuzzled into her hair, mumbling something incoherent, as if afraid to disturb her. But she was already awake, stirred by the touch of his lips. She smiled, stretched, tugged the sheet higher over herself, eyes closed, trying to prolong that sweet drowsiness in his arms.

— Did you even sleep? — she whispered, eyes still shut.

— I was watching you, — he answered in the tone that sent shivers racing across her skin.

— Are you a doctor or a warden? — she teased with a sleepy smile.

— I’m just yours, — he whispered, kissing her temple.

His hand slipped under the sheet, resting on her stomach.

— Any cramps? — he asked quietly, kissing her neck.

— Evren, we just woke up, — she opened her eyes abruptly, frowning slightly. — Don’t tell me you’re already…

— Of course, — he murmured into her ear. — First I kiss you, then I examine you. That’s my therapy.

She laughed, and before his hand could wander lower, she rolled onto him suddenly, pinning him to the mattress with her body. Her hair fell across his face, their breaths mingling. For several seconds, they kissed—deeply, hungrily.

— I missed this, — he breathed against her lips. — Mornings with you, — his hands tightened on her waist. — I don’t want to let you go.

— The house is full of people, — Bahar reminded him, a little breathless. — Right now they think we’re still asleep, — she whispered.

— Let them think, — he pulled her down against him. — But you are going to eat breakfast, understood? Yesterday I saw your lips, — he kissed them greedily, — you hadn’t had water, they were dry.

She flushed, hid her face against his shoulder.

— You’re unbearable, — she whispered.

— At least I’m honest, — Evren smirked. — And stubborn. I’ll make breakfast for everyone, you don’t mind, do you?

She lifted herself slightly, looked straight into his eyes — where passion and tenderness mingled with that piercing care that nearly brought her to tears.

— No, — Bahar kissed him softly. — But I know you — you won’t just cook, you’ll organize everyone into helping.

He pulled her close again, kissed her, and whispered against her lips:

— Forget the coffee. — Another kiss. — Food first, coffee later.

Bahar snatched a pillow, laughing, and smacked him with it. The pillow flew aside and landed on the floor. Laughing and blushing, she jumped out of bed, nearly ran, and disappeared into the bathroom. The door shut with a quick click.

Evren laughed, sat on the edge of the bed. For a few seconds he just listened to the sound of water, then rose, ran a hand through his hair, and followed her.

Bahar stood under the stream, eyes closed, warm water flowing over her shoulders and neck, washing away the remnants of the night. She startled when the door opened and his voice came:

— A pillow fight is one thing, but you forget — I have a key to every door. You’re having breakfast, no arguments, — he declared stubbornly.

She turned, her cheeks redder than the steam alone could account for.

— Evren! — her voice carried both indignation and laughter. — Are you even normal?

— Not at all, — he stepped inside, closed the door behind him. — Otherwise I wouldn’t love you.

He came closer, her heart pounding faster than the drip of water against the tiles. His hands cupped her face, then slid into her hair. He kissed her slowly, as if for the first time.

— Even in the shower you’re thinking about food? — she whispered when he pulled back.

— You think I’m joking? — he smiled. — I’ll still make you eat. I’ll make you.

She shook her head, pressed against his shoulder.

— You’re stubborn…, — she breathed.

— My greatest weapon, — he kissed her forehead lightly. — In surgery, with you, and in your kitchen.

They both laughed. Evren pulled her closer, and laughter melted into a heated kiss. Water streamed down their bodies, washing away the last barriers between them…

***

Rengin erased a few lines from the document, rubbed her tired eyes, and stifled a yawn behind her hand. She blinked several times, fighting off sleep, then fixed her gaze back on the monitor. She had barely slept through the night; her own house had felt strangely uneasy, and so, waking before dawn, she had come straight to the hospital and buried herself in paperwork. Now, only a couple of hours later, fatigue pressed in again, her eyelids heavy, sleep tugging at her.

She reached for her cup to take a sip of coffee, only to find it empty. She was about to get up and refill it when a knock sounded at the door. She didn’t have time to answer—into the office stepped a tall, lean man in a black suit, carrying several folders.

— Who is responsible for information security? — he asked at once from the threshold, without so much as a greeting.

— Good morning, — Rengin replied politely. — And you are?

— Sert Kaya. Council of Strategic Medicine, — he advanced, placing a folder on her desk. — Interim coordinator of your institution. Who is responsible? — he repeated, his gaze unwavering.

He entered her office like a man stepping onto foreign soil, offering her neither choice nor time for courtesy.

— That depends on the level of access, — she held his stare and rose. — But I assume you mean the breach of the surveillance archive?

— Not a breach! — he shot back, categorical. — A crime! — Each word cracked like a gunshot: short, final. — Operating room footage. Unauthorized release online. A direct blow to your reputation! I want to know what you’ve done. — His eyes bore into hers. — Or did you intend to cover this up?

— We identified the individual, — her voice was restrained but firm. — He is not an employee. An internal inquiry was conducted.

— A restaurant kitchen worker, — Sert cut in, — half-brother of one of your senior surgeons. And you expect me to believe in your inquiry? Where is the protocol? The prosecutor’s report?

Rengin stepped away from her desk, went to the cabinet, and retrieved a folder. Returning, she laid it on the table.

— All materials have been collected, — she said evenly. — The decision on transfer is under review.

— Review by whom? — he demanded.

— Including the patient who was operated on, whose life was hanging by a thread, — she forced calm into her tone, hiding the tremor in her fingers. — We believe it possible to take into account that he, — she paused, meeting his eyes, — realized what he had done.

— I am not a psychologist. I am a coordinator, — he stepped closer. — Your loyalty is your choice. The decision is now mine.

He opened another folder from his hand and drew out a single sheet.

— My directive, — he set it before her. — Within a week, you will submit all materials to the prosecutor’s office.

Rengin was silent, words failing her.

— I am not your enemy, doctor, — not a muscle of his face moved. — But your hospital is not a family coffeehouse. It is an institution. Protocol. Order. Responsibility! There are far too many emotions in your operating rooms! — His gaze was stern, cold, unyielding.

— Well then, welcome, — Rengin managed to hold herself steady. — I see you prefer to begin without any prelude.

— Preludes are for those who have time. You don’t. And you don’t have the right to make mistakes either. — He adjusted his tie.

— If this is your opening statement, — Rengin crossed her arms, regaining composure, — it sounds more like an accusation.

— I don’t accuse, — Sert Kaya tilted his head slightly. — I state facts. One wrong move, and this ward will be shut down. Are you prepared to answer for that?

— Every day, — she met his eyes without flinching. — I answer to my patients, not to— — she stumbled briefly — coordinators.

— From now on, — he allowed himself the faintest smile, — you will answer to me. I don’t play on a team, Professor Rengin. I lead it. You’ve allowed yourself far too much! — He all but slammed another folder onto her desk.

Rengin’s eyes fell instantly to the name: Çağla. He had come prepared. Her steps had already been traced through protocols and reports.

— I did what I believed was necessary for the patient, — she raised her head slowly.

— You thought you were doing the right thing, — he stepped closer still, his fingers drumming against the desk, punctuating every word like a sentence. — In this hospital there is no “right” or “wrong.” There are protocols. You are bound to them.

— Protocols won’t save a child if we close our eyes to the obvious, — she refused to look away.

— And emotions will? — the corner of his lips twitched, but his eyes remained cold. — Your personal ties with Dr. Bahar and her family — already too much. You’re forgetting yourself!

— I am not forgetting! — her fingers clenched around a pen, but her gaze stayed steady. — I am a doctor!

— No, — Sert Kaya leaned in slightly, his voice dropping lower, sharper. — You are a cog in a system. And if you cannot be a cog, you will be replaced. Remember that.

The office fell into a heavy silence, thick and oppressive. Rengin felt crushed under the weight of that quiet voice, relentless and cold. Sert Kaya straightened, tossed yet another folder onto her desk as if placing the final mark.

— People die. Machines keep running. Choose your side, doctor, — he turned and left.

The door slammed shut. Rengin slowly sank into her chair. She stared ahead, not noticing how tightly her fingers had clenched around the pen, her knuckles white. Sert Kaya was gone, leaving behind only the faint scent of his cologne and the certainty that war had just been declared. She could almost hear the echo of a cannon shot. The battle plan was already spread open, and her name stood first on the line of fire…

***

The taillight flicked off, the engine died. Bahar immediately swung off the motorcycle, fumbling with the clasp of her helmet, but her fingers trembled, and the lock refused to give. Evren pulled off his own helmet, stepped closer, and with one swift motion freed her chin from the tight strap. The helmet slid easily from her head, revealing her face, and his gaze lingered longer than it should have. Bahar quickly turned away, her cheeks burning.

— Don’t look at me like that, — she muttered, eyes down.

— Like what? — his voice came lazy, almost purring. — I’m checking if my patient is alright.

— Patient? — she glanced at him. — Or a woman?

She cast her eyes around, as if expecting dozens of stares to suddenly fall on them again.

— Bahar, we left the house like fugitives, — he murmured, stepping closer.

She instantly strode forward.

— Sometimes that’s the only way to avoid unnecessary questions, — she quickened her pace, hiding her fluster in movement.

— Questions… or something else? — he smirked, following.

— You thrive on attention, don’t you?! — she snapped.

— Only yours, — he replied calmly, making her walk even faster. — So why did we run? — he pressed.

Yes, the ring glittered on her finger, yes, they had left the hospital together yesterday, yes, he now lived in her house — yet she still couldn’t shake off her inner embarrassment. He nearly caught up with her.

— Ran away, — she fumed, increasing her speed. — With the noise you made last night, even the deaf would’ve heard us. How am I supposed to face them?

— Me? — he put on mock innocence. — You think I was louder than you?

— Evren! — she spun, her eyes blazing. — We’re not alone in that house — don’t you get that?!

Evren caught up, seized her elbow, matching her steps.

— And were you so quiet yourself? — his voice brushed her ear, making her flush even deeper. — Are you sure it was me making the noise? — his lips almost touched her cheek. — Bahar, — he whispered. — After the lamp crashed, we’ll have to face them all anyway.

— You’re unbearable! — she hissed, striding ahead again.

— But honest, — he caught her elbow once more.

His touch burned hotter than the morning sun. She flushed, paled, walking beside him, while his face carried a satisfied smile. She almost wanted to beg him to stop smiling like that, because it said too much on its own.

— Don’t forget you’ve got an ultrasound and tests today, — he raised his voice deliberately, teasing her, still holding her firmly by the arm, knowing she could yank free at any second.

Bahar spun toward him, anger flashing in her eyes too quickly to hide.

— If you say ‘tests’ or ‘check-up’ in front of everyone again, I’ll strangle you, — she muttered through clenched teeth.

— And I’ll still say it, — he whispered in her ear. — Because I love watching you get angry.

— Tests? You insisted I have breakfast! — she shot back, still fuming. — And now we’ll be late because of you, and whose fault will that be?

— Mine, — he agreed at once, lips twitching with an even wider grin — so wide she wanted to smack it off his face. — Always mine, if it’s about you, — he leaned in, ready to kiss her, but she slipped away again, hurrying ahead. — Even for how beautifully angry you are in the mornings, or for making you late.

Bahar’s cheeks blazed.

— Of course yours, — she muttered stubbornly. — You’re not just a doctor, Evren. You’re my man. My man who won’t even let me walk to work in peace. — Her tone softened despite herself, warmth creeping in.

He slowed, forcing her to stop. She turned to him, brows raised — but the way he looked at her made her heart pound, made her want to wrap her arms around him, hide her face against his shoulder, breathe him in.

— I’ll gladly get in your way every morning, — his low voice sent shivers through her. — I’m both doctor and man. And I’ll take care of you. Always. That won’t change.

— Sometimes I think, — she whispered, voice trembling, — you hide behind that word — “care.”

Evren’s expression hardened instantly.

— Bahar, — his tone was steel, — there are things that aren’t up for debate. — She finally pressed into his neck. — I’m responsible for you.

— You talk like we’re already married, — she muttered.

— We will be. It’s only a matter of time. And there will be no canceling it. — He brushed his lips against her temple.

She closed her eyes. His firmness — it was what always broke her resistance. And at the same time, what frightened her. She sighed, leaning into him, forgetting that minutes ago she had been too shy to even walk beside him. Embarrassment tangled with the sense of being caught off guard.

— You’re impossible, — she whispered, her lips brushing his neck.

— But yours, — he leaned closer, fingertips tracing her cheek. — And the best part — you’ll still listen to me.

Bahar pulled back slightly, meeting his eyes. She wanted to retort, but her breath hitched.

— Evren… people are watching, — she murmured, but didn’t move away.

— Let them, — he smiled. — They already know anyway.

Her cheeks burned, her heart hammered so loud she thought everyone could hear it. Evren leaned in, their lips nearly touching. They had even forgotten they were already inside the ER, in full view of everyone.

A sharp ring cut through the air. She flinched and pulled back. Evren cursed, yanked out his phone, and glanced at the screen. His expression shifted at once.

— Jennifer, — he said curtly.

— Alya, — they said together.

Bahar looked aside, hiding both her blush and the sting of disappointment. But the crash of the door snapped their heads around. A man burst into the ER, his clothes drenched in blood, carrying an unconscious girl in his arms. Blood streamed down his elbows.

— Help! — his voice cracked with desperation. — I don’t know what’s wrong with her!

— Bahar, — Evren instinctively stepped forward, shielding her.

— Evren, Alya, — she reminded him, moving past. — Go! — In an instant, her embarrassment vanished, replaced by the composure of a doctor.

Reluctantly, Evren turned, but Bahar had already dropped her bag and was pulling on gloves.

— Gurney! — she shouted. — Abdomen rigid… pulse weak… possible rupture!

— She’s pregnant… — the man stammered. — I tried… I’m a doctor — 

— What kind of doctor? — Bahar demanded sharply, glancing sideways as Evren, phone to his ear, bolted out.

— A veterinarian… — the man gasped.

For a moment, the room froze.

— Operating room, now, — Bahar ordered.

The gurney disappeared through the doors. Ferdi picked up Bahar’s bag, shaking his head.

— They were about ready to kiss right here in the ER, — he muttered sourly.

Just yesterday he hadn’t believed they were together — but now, the proof was undeniable.