– It’s already been decided, – Evren answered calmly. – I’m staying. I’ve accepted the position. The department is mine — I’m a practicing surgeon. Jennifer and I are handling the logistics and medical risks, – he was fully focused. – The transport will be secure: isolation capsule, full support team, ECMO and ventilation. All protocols followed. All I need is your signature and access to the OR.

– You went around the committee? – Rengin set the file down on the desk and crossed her arms.

– The committee would’ve never approved costs like these, – Evren sighed. – Yes, there’s risk. If she dies mid-flight, it’ll be a blow. But if she survives and we perform the double transplant… it’ll be our victory.

He rubbed his forehead and sat down. Only now did Rengin notice how exhausted he looked.

– You were treating her in the U.S.? – she asked.

– Yes, – he no longer hid his weariness. – I was supposed to fly there just for her. To be part of the surgery.

Rengin lifted the file again:

– The patient is unstable. Coagulopathy, signs of multi-organ failure, high risk of decompensation during transport… – she looked at him. – Are you serious? You want to crash everything before we even get started? After the crash, we’re under scrutiny. Surgeon losses, investigations, administrative pressure. Public opinion. – She closed her eyes briefly. – Evren, can you see even one step ahead?

– Alya’s not a media case, – he said calmly. – But she could become a symbol. If we succeed, Perran becomes a name people associate with trust again. With life.

– You were supposed to operate on her in the States. We had even confirmed dates. And now you spring this on me? What happened?

Yes, Rengin had fought to convince him to stay. But this? She couldn’t wrap her head around it. He was defying everyone—but mostly, himself.

– Her donor went to someone else. She’s running out of time, – he frowned. – She’s got ten days, tops. I found a matching donor complex in Europe.

– And you seriously want to fly a patient with multi-organ failure across the ocean? – Rengin’s voice was sharp.

– She’s coming to Perran. To me, – Evren stretched his stiff neck. – I’ll assemble the team.

– How am I supposed to explain to the committee that a week after losing surgeons, I’m authorizing another medevac flight?

– Officially, – Evren cleared his throat, – it’s a humanitarian evacuation. All the documents are ready.

– Even if I agree, – Rengin set the file aside, – who takes the fall if this goes south? You? Jennifer? Or will I be the one facing court?

– Everything is in place. All I need is your consent, – he pulled out his phone. – Jennifer, – he said, showing her the screen.

She nodded, and he started a video call.

– Rengin, Alya is my niece, – Jennifer’s face was tense, her words rushed. – Everything fell apart. The insurance backed out, the center canceled the surgery. There’s a donor. A match. But I trust no one else but Evren. If Perran accepts her—I’ll handle the rest.

Rengin looked at Evren.

– You knew? – she frowned.

– Yes, – he said. – We have to act now.

– Time is running out, – Jennifer cut in. – I trust Evren completely.

Rengin stood and walked slowly around the office. She was still angry, but no longer arguing. Angry not at him—but at the situation.

– I’ll sign. But it’s all on you, – she looked at Evren. – We can’t afford to fail.

– Thank you, – Jennifer exhaled and ended the call.

Rengin didn’t look at Evren. She walked back to the window.

– We’ll either rise—or crash to the very bottom, – she whispered.

Evren stood:

– No more flights. We’re saving lives now, – he picked up the file from the desk. – I’ll start forming the teams and coordinate with the donor clinic.

– Evren, – Rengin turned to him. – Are you sure?

– This isn’t about heroism, – he paused at the door, – I’m just doing my job. Just saving lives. And yes, – he almost smiled, – I’ll need Bahar.

Rengin said nothing, only looked at him.

– We’re not together, – he continued, answering her silent question. – I’m just… near. – He nearly stepped out, then stopped. – I don’t know if I made it in time… or if I’ve already lost everything.

– You’re both out of your minds, – Rengin stepped up to the desk, bracing her hands on its edge. – I don’t know what kind of risks you’ll take next, what other madness you’ll dive into, but I do know one thing, – she looked him in the eye, – you two… you’re a real team.

– We need to become one again, – now the smile finally reached his lips, and a spark of hope lit his eyes…

…she didn’t hope for much—only that they could talk. That was all she wanted. To explain herself, looking him in the eyes, to say she had been wrong. Umay knew Cem well. Knew that he could go silent for months, offering no explanation. She didn’t want a repeat of their last breakup. She just wanted to be heard.

It had taken all her effort—and Naz’s help—to get him to come outside. Now Cem stood a step away, deliberately looking elsewhere.

– I don’t care what you have to say, Umay, – he muttered, staring at something on the wall. – You shouldn’t have come looking for me.

– I came to tell you I was wrong, – Umay tried to stay patient, fighting to keep her emotions at bay. – I never wished harm on Evren, Cem. I just… I lost control.

– You didn’t wish harm? – he finally turned to her. – You wanted Evren to be on that plane instead of your father. That’s what you said. That’s who your family is—act first, think later!

– I was wrong, – she repeated, her voice trembling, tears stinging her eyes. – I admit it, – she whispered. – Please, forgive me.

– You wished death on my brother! – Cem exploded. – And now you come and say “I was wrong”? You think it’s that simple?

– Cem, – Umay tried to catch his gaze. – I’m not here to hurt you. I just wanted us to be honest.

He laughed bitterly:

– You? Hurt me? How could it get any worse? – He shoved his hands in his pockets. – First your mother left Evren at the wedding table, and then you wished him dead—knowing he’s all I have left!

Umay swallowed hard.

– Please don’t twist everything, – she begged. – I didn’t want Evren to… – she trailed off.

Cem snorted, chin raised like she was some insignificant thing unworthy of his attention. Umay shrank slightly, feeling uncomfortable in his presence—but she still had something important to say.

– You didn’t come to my father’s funeral, – her voice cracked. – Was that your choice? Or just resentment? – she looked at him, searching for even a shred of hope.

She tucked her hair behind her ear, folded her arms, standing beneath a tree, seeking shelter in its shade. That’s when she noticed Naz, standing just outside, seeing off a guest. She smiled politely, about to turn back—but paused, eyes fixed on Umay and Cem.

– I didn’t come! – he nearly shouted, puffing his chest, but still had to look up at her—she had outgrown him, and still had more growing to do.

Umay nodded slowly.

– And you think that was right? – she asked gently. – Not being there in that moment? Even Evren stood beside my mother, – she added. – He was there, even though they’re not together anymore.

Cem’s outburst seemed to catch Naz’s attention. She started walking toward them, clearly planning to calm things down.

– Neither you nor your mother will ever understand what it’s like to be second-best! – Cem practically lunged at Umay. – Hear me? They’ll never be together again! – he shouted. – And do you know why? – He sneered. – Because Naz lives with Evren now! Because everything’s changed! – he was almost yelling. – We’re a family now! We’re moving to America! Together! Tell your mother to stop bothering my brother! Evren is never going back to her. Never, Umay! Never!

– It hurts, – Umay whispered, holding back tears. – But at least I don’t pretend I feel nothing, – she added softly. – I’m sorry you don’t want to grow up. Maybe we really don’t have a future, – she admitted. – I can’t keep chasing someone who keeps turning away. I don’t feel safe—with you, with tomorrow, with us.

– You’re right! We’ve got our own life now! With Naz! – Cem gloated.

– Please stop sending my mom photos of Naz with Evren, – Umay wiped a tear from her cheek. – It hurts her. Don’t do that, Cem, please.

– So she told you, huh? – Cem smiled, proud of himself.

– Mom never said a word. I saw it by accident, – Umay shook her head. – You still don’t get it, – she whispered. – And I’m really sorry for you.

– We, Cem?! – Naz’s voice cut through the air. Cem turned sharply. – I don’t live with Evren. I don’t live with you. – She stared at him. – I’m not going to America! You made all that up, Cem! What photos, Umay? – she turned to her. – What is he sending?

Cem went pale. Umay frowned, looking from one to the other.

– Cem, I want answers, – Naz said, wiping her hands on her apron. – America? Family? What is all this?

– No one listens to me. Not you, not my brother, – his shoulders sagged, his posture slouched—as if hoping if he shrank small enough, everyone would just leave him alone. – Everyone acts like they know everything, – he mumbled, eyes darting everywhere but at them. – But nobody gets that it would be better if we just left…

– I’m not playing house with you, Cem, – Naz said firmly.

– It’s hard with them, – he whispered, his bravado completely gone in her presence. It had been easier with Umay. – But with you… with you, everything’s easy.

– I’m not here to be convenient for you, Cem! Not for you, not for Evren! – she unfastened the top button of her uniform.

She had heard enough. Umay slowly backed away, step by step. The image of Cem she had loved crumbled before her eyes. She no longer knew who he was, what he stood for. Yes, she had made mistakes—but what he was doing behind everyone’s back? That was something else. Something cruel.

She turned and walked away.

– You’re fired, Cem! – Naz’s sharp voice rang out. She had clearly had enough of his lies.

Umay turned, startled, and met Cem’s gaze. She hadn’t wanted to witness this.

Cem flushed red, untied his apron and threw it at Naz’s feet.

– I… I… – he stammered, then turned and bolted, running right past Umay without even looking at her.

Umay stood frozen. The conversation had left her hollow. On the way here, she had thought—maybe, at the very least, they could still be friends. But now? What kind of friendship could there even be? Maybe Parla had been right all along when she warned her not to get involved with Cem… but then, why had she written to him behind Umay’s back for so long?

Umay turned and walked away.

– Umay, – Naz caught up with her. – What photos did Cem send? – she asked, pressing a hand to her chest. – What was in them?

Umay stopped and looked back.

– You know… it doesn’t matter anymore, – she whispered. – Not at all, – she said quietly, lost.

– It matters—to Bahar and Evren, – Naz said seriously.

Umay suddenly smiled, shaking her head.

– No, – she whispered, – no more interference. Please. Let it be. – Her voice was pleading. – They’ve got enough to carry. Everything’s too hard already. Especially now that Dad is gone.

– You’ve grown up so much, – Naz murmured, still frowning.

Umay shrugged and walked away.

Naz watched her go. Behind her, Cem’s apron lay on the pavement. The wind tried to lift its edge—but didn’t have the strength…

…the curtain fluttered in the breeze. The living room was empty—everyone had gone their own way. Umay had gone out somewhere, Nevra had gone upstairs. Bahar was quietly working in the kitchen. Everyone was living through the day in their own way.

Uraz and Siren had taken the kids outside, spread a blanket on the grass, and were lying together under the sun. Gulçiçek and Reha had said their goodbyes and left.

– Every day will be like this now. Without him, – Parla gazed out the window at Uraz and Siren. – I had only just started to get to know him. I spent so little time with him, and yes… – she pressed her forehead to the glass – he was a difficult man. But I felt good with him, – she admitted.

– I understand, – Yusuf was sitting in an armchair, watching her. – I lost my mother. She went so quickly, and I couldn’t do anything to help, – he clasped his hands. – I never knew my father. Mom always spoke of him simply, – he shrugged. – They weren’t a couple, they weren’t a family. She decided to have me on her own. I have no resentment toward him.

Parla turned to him:

– You never wanted to find out who your father is? – she asked.

Yusuf stared at his hands.

– I know, – he said simply.

– And you never tried to talk to him? – Parla came closer. – When I found out Timur was my father, I rejected him at first. But then we started getting closer. A father—it’s a different kind of anchor than a mother, – she sat down across from him.

– Are you telling me this because I’m living here now? With Bahar? In this house? – he tensed slightly. – You want me to leave? – He still wasn’t sure if accepting Bahar’s invitation had been the right decision.

– No, – Parla smiled. – No, I meant something else. A father is a different kind of support in life. I didn’t know that until I experienced it. And if you have the chance, Yusuf, I’d like you to get to know your father. Maybe he was too young back then. But if he learns about you now, everything could change. It doesn’t mean you have to leave our lives—no, I didn’t mean that at all.

Yusuf exhaled:

– I feel like a guest here. Everything feels foreign. Yes, Bahar told me to stay. Said it would be easier for me to study this way, that everyone would help me with my exams, – he nodded. – That tomorrow I’ll start my internship—your mom signed off on it. You’re all behind me, – his eyes reddened. – It’s something I’m not used to, – he admitted. – I want to be useful to all of you, too, – he cleared his throat – I don’t want to be a stranger, – he whispered.

– Aunt Bahar will help, – Parla smiled, touching his hand. – She knows how to make a place feel warm and welcoming. You’ll get used to it.

– What if she changes her mind? – Yusuf suddenly asked. – What if I start to believe… and then it all ends? – he dropped his gaze again.

– Aunt Bahar? – Parla almost laughed. – No, she won’t change her mind. That’s not who she is.

– But she said Evren left… and then he showed up again, – he chose his words carefully, watching Parla. – She said he’d be my teacher, then said he wouldn’t. But Evren Yalkın is still in Istanbul. And I don’t understand anything.

Parla shrugged:

– No one will answer that one for you, – she admitted. – Yes, Uncle Evren is still in the city—as far as I could tell from something he and my mom talked about, – she glanced around. – Unless I misunderstood, and they were talking about a patient. I don’t know.

– Did your mom say anything about new doctors coming? – Yusuf leaned forward slightly.

– They were talking about something with Aunt Bahar, – Parla shrugged again. – I don’t know. So much has happened.

She turned and picked up Timur’s watch from the table.

– It feels so strange, touching his things, – she said. – Sitting in the chair he once sat in, – she sniffled. – We lived together for a while, but I can’t remember exactly how he took his coffee, – she said softly.

– My mom died in the spring. I couldn’t sleep after that. I couldn’t bring myself to move her teacup for a long time, – Yusuf turned to the window. – It just sat there, until all the tea evaporated, – he fell silent, then added, – I eventually washed the cup and put it away.

Parla stroked the armrest of the chair, as if trying to recall Timur’s presence.

– Hey, – Yusuf stood. – I saw the broken lock on the kitchen cabinet. I could fix it, – he offered, finally finding something to do, his eyes lighting up with interest.

Parla looked at him:

– Aunt Bahar’s in there, – she reminded him.

– Do you think we’ll be bothering her? – he asked cautiously, though his excitement didn’t wane.

Parla smiled and stood:

– No, we definitely won’t be bothering her. Come on, – she headed toward the kitchen.

Yusuf paused for a moment. He remembered Evren standing in that exact spot a few days ago, looking toward the kitchen, but never walking in. He wished he knew more—but didn’t dare ask anyone.

He sighed and followed Parla into the kitchen, where Bahar was already talking to her about something.

Yusuf almost smiled—he suddenly realized that sometimes, all you need is just… to be there.

…they were finally alone. Just the two of them. Gulçiçek had never imagined things would unfold this way—that she would marry Professor Reha, that they would live at his place. She had set the kitchen table, opened the windows wide to let in fresh air, and called out to him—her husband.

Their wedding had been overshadowed by news of the crash. Then came the chaos, the funeral… and now, as they sat across from each other, drinking tea, they were, for the first time, simply enjoying their quiet happiness.

– Everything will be different on the island, – Reha began. – On the island… no one will depend on how I hold a scalpel, – he looked at her over the rim of his teacup. – No operating rooms. Just us. And the sea.

Gulçiçek took a sip and met her husband’s gaze.

– You do understand we can’t leave right now, don’t you? – she asked. – I can’t leave Bahar at a time like this. I can’t, Reha, – she reached for his hand, and he gently squeezed her fingers.

– Yes, I know. I’m just dreaming, – he smiled. – For now, it’s just a dream, – he raised her hand and kissed her fingers.

– You’re not planning to look for a new clinic on the island, are you? – she asked softly, noticing how he suddenly paled, his eyes narrowing slightly, as if his focus slipped.

He blinked several times, then winced and touched his temple for just a moment—but she didn’t miss it.

– Reha, – this time she gripped his hand tightly – I don’t want to lose you. The heart—it’s not just another organ.

– Probably just my blood pressure, – he tried to wave it off. – The heat. The air.

– Reha, maybe… maybe it’s time you stopped operating? – she asked carefully.

– I can’t step away completely just yet, – he sighed. – It’s temporary. – He took a sip of tea. – Honestly, – he looked at her – I’m so tired I don’t even have the words to explain it, – he confessed for the first time, wincing slightly. – They need me. I can’t walk away right now.

– Reha, – Gulçiçek didn’t let go of his hand – you can support them with your words, too.

He looked at her for a long moment, then exhaled and nodded slightly.

– I know. But somehow, my hands still reach for the scalpel, – he smiled faintly. – On the island, everything will be different, – he blew her a kiss. – Not now. I remember. Just dreaming, – he winked at her, taking a deep breath, ignoring the sweat forming on his brow…

________________________________________

…he pushed his dark sunglasses up onto his forehead, then settled them on top of his head as he walked into the yard.

Evren watched Bahar’s small grandchildren playing on the blanket near the pool, Uraz and Siren laughing with them in the sun. He couldn’t stop thinking that in just a few months, they could have had a little one of their own. Their baby… a boy, stubborn and bold like him—or a girl, bright and radiant like Bahar.

A child. He swallowed hard, overwhelmed by the sudden desire to hold one. Without thinking, Evren started walking into the garden, circling the house and stopping just as Uraz bent down to pick up Mert from the grass. Mert immediately grabbed his father’s hair and refused to let go, curiously peeking over his shoulder at Evren.

Siren was the first to notice him. Shifting Leyla into her other arm, she turned to him.

– Professor? – she addressed him.

Uraz turned too, frowning slightly, studying him. He noticed the folder in Evren’s hands.

– Something wrong? – he asked, standing behind Siren, unmoving.

Evren understood. Everyone in this house had grown used to expecting bad news. And truth be told, even he wasn’t sure what kind of news he was bringing.

– It’s work-related, – he said reluctantly, slipping his motorcycle keys into his pocket.

Yes, he had come for work—but he knew it wasn’t just about work.

– Bahar called everyone to the table, – Siren said, turning slightly, when suddenly Leyla reached her tiny hands toward Evren and smiled at him.

She hadn’t invited him. Uraz stayed silent. Only the little girl had reached out to him, her smile open and pure. Mert, meanwhile, watched him cautiously from the safe shelter of his father’s arms.

– May I? – Evren asked, holding out his arms and tucking the folder under one arm.

Siren glanced at Uraz before passing the baby to him.

Evren’s heart tightened.

It was the first time he had ever held a child so small. And this wasn’t just any child—this was Bahar’s granddaughter. And she looked so much like her. Those dimples, those lashes, those enormous eyes that seemed to reflect the whole world.

His hands trembled slightly. He could barely stand. He cradled her with the gentleness of someone holding the most precious thing in the world.

How could he have ever thought he didn’t want children?

He couldn’t comprehend it now. How had he ever said no to something so miraculous? Bahar. He only ever wanted a child with her—no one else. Why had it taken him this long to realize?

Maybe she had been right when she said they had met too late…

Too late?

No. He refused to accept that.

Evren flinched and looked toward the house—toward the window—and met her eyes through the glass.

She had frozen by the sink, staring at him holding Leyla. Not blinking.

One question pounded in his head—was it too late? Had he missed his chance? Was there no future left?

Bahar slowly lowered her gaze and returned to rinsing the greens, as if she hadn’t seen him a moment ago. As if he wasn’t standing there, in her garden, holding her granddaughter.

He refused to accept that she no longer believed in them.

He refused to accept that she had let go.