Bahar could barely breathe, struggling not to burst into tears. Doruk was sobbing near the head of the bed. Ferdi sighed and leaned his back against the wall. He still hadn’t decided whether to leave or stay. Evren sat on the bed, holding Bahar’s hand tightly.

Yusuf couldn’t take it anymore and stepped closer. His hand reached toward the screen hesitantly, as if he might see something there — something that could calm them all.

— Wait, — Yusuf broke the silence, moving toward the monitor. He pointed at a faint, trembling gray spot in the corner of the screen. — Look… right here, there’s some movement… — he tapped the screen. — That’s a pulse! — he turned to Bahar and Evren. — Do you see it?

— What? Where — Evren jumped up and came around the bed.

— Here, — Yusuf zoomed in. — There it is. Weak, but rhythmic. It’s not an error.

Evren stared at the screen where Yusuf was pointing. Bahar leaned forward, eyes searching. Seconds stretched into eternity. The gray flicker seemed to tremble—or maybe it was just their hope playing tricks—but it was enough for Bahar’s breath to steady.

— Yes. A heartbeat, — Yusuf said, smiling through tears. — Very early, but it’s there.

— See? — she whispered, exhaling with relief, and looked at Evren. — It’s not that bad.

Evren turned to her. He looked lost, as if he hadn’t yet climbed out of the inner hell he’d fallen into. His lips trembled, eyes shining.

— I… thought… — he began hoarsely.

— I thought so too, — she cut him off, — but it’s okay.

He nodded, but his fingers were still trembling. In his eyes shimmered a helpless, childlike joy—and the fear that wouldn’t let go. Bahar lifted herself a little, propping on her elbow.

— Evren, — she said calmly now, regaining control, — to hear a heartbeat at six weeks, you need to do a transvaginal ultrasound… — she smiled tiredly. — And we’re not going to do that, right? The baby’s fine. I’m fine.

Evren froze, still clutching the probe, only now realizing how hard he’d been gripping it. He nodded.

— In a few weeks, — she added, her tone taking on the calm authority of a doctor. — We’ll do it again. And we’ll listen together then.

— I’m sorry, — Yusuf said quietly, looking away. — I didn’t know how to stop it, — he faltered, — you weren’t waking up for so long, I got scared, — he admitted.

— You… tried to stop me?! — Evren snapped, turning sharply. — Do you even realize I could have… — his voice wasn’t that of a doctor anymore, but of a man overflowing with fear and relief.

— Evren, — Bahar tried to intervene, but he didn’t seem to hear her.

— You knew? — he took a step toward Yusuf. — You knew she wasn’t feeling well and said nothing?! What right did you have to hide it from me?!

Yusuf lifted his head. Pain and helpless anger flashed in his eyes.

— And what right did you have to live without me if I’m your son?! — the words burst out of him before he could stop them. — What right do you have to rejoice over your child when I… when I never — he couldn’t finish.

Silence fell like a stone. Doruk flinched. Ferdi froze, listening closely. Bahar tried to lift herself, but her vision darkened.

— Stop… — she whispered, her voice breaking. — Not now, please… — she collapsed weakly back onto the pillows.

Evren and Yusuf both rushed to her at once. Their hands met on her shoulders.

— Careful, — said Evren.

— Careful, — Yusuf echoed.

Bahar closed her eyes, feeling the weight of two forces pressing from both sides — two fears, two guilts. Suddenly Doruk threw his arms up to the ceiling, unable to hold it in anymore.

— Thank you, Allah! — he cried through tears. — She’s alive! The baby’s alive! — he sobbed and covered his face with his hands. — We’re going to have a baby! — he shouted.

His outburst broke the tension. Bahar even smiled, looking at him.

— Doruk, — she whispered, shaking her head.

Evren sat down beside her on the edge of the bed. He was still trembling, but the panic had subsided.

— Why didn’t you tell me earlier? — he asked quietly, eyes downcast.

— Because I only found out this afternoon, — she answered just as softly. — I wanted to make sure everything was fine, so it wouldn’t be like last time, — her fingers clenched the sheet. — I needed to be certain.

He closed his eyes. Her words hit him straight in the heart.

— We’re going home, — he said finally, opening them. — Enough hospitals. I want you to sleep, eat, laugh.

— I’m a doctor, Evren, — she reminded him, though a smile curved her lips.

— Today you’re the patient, — he said with familiar stubbornness, helping her sit up. — And don’t argue.

— Just promise you won’t panic again, all right? — Bahar squeezed his hand. — You almost stole this moment from me, — she continued softly, aware that everyone could hear, but unable to stop.

— What?.. — Evren looked bewildered.

— I felt the baby, — Bahar said, locking eyes with him. — I knew he was there. And you… you made me doubt. Made me afraid.

Evren flinched, staring back at her.

— If you act like this again, I’ll go to the ultrasounds alone, — she warned. — I’ll listen to the heartbeat myself! And if you ever… if you even once think of the worst before believing in the good — she left it hanging.

— Bahar, — Evren went pale.

— You’re a doctor, Evren. You’ve seen death, — she held his hand tightly. — But I’m a mother. I see life.

— And I’m a father! — Evren said sharply, his shoulders tense, his eyes full of pain. She tilted her head slightly, and he seemed to soften at once. — I’m sorry, — he whispered. — I just… can’t lose you.

— And you won’t, — she smiled. — Don’t panic, — she said gently, her fingers brushing his cheek. — Evren, — Bahar looked into his eyes, — you’re going to be a dad, — she whispered, leaning toward him, her lips brushing his, — congratulations, — she murmured, wrapping her arms around him, pressing her face to his chest.

Evren buried his face in her shoulder, eyes closed, hiding his tears. He nodded, but his fingers were still trembling. The fear hadn’t left him. Joy and dread tangled inside him, and he knew this was only the beginning.

Yusuf stepped aside, silently watching them. His breathing evened out. He saw that Bahar was strong, Evren was beside her, and the baby was alive. Bahar got up from the bed, Evren steadying her by the elbow.

— Thank you, — Bahar said to Yusuf. — You were the only one who remembered that this is a miracle.

— I just looked in the right corner, — he said with a shrug.

— See? — Doruk sniffled. — Now I’m definitely crying from happiness!

Everyone turned toward him and laughed, the tension slowly melting away, leaving behind a bittersweet aftertaste.

***

Bitterness sat in his mouth. Kamil couldn’t remember how long he’d been awake. The room was drowned in the bluish glow of the laptop screen. A folder lay on the table, stacks of test results, copies of discharge papers. And in the center of the table — a photograph of his wife, Ayshe. She smiled at him with that tender smile, one hand supporting her rounded belly. Everything he had left of them lay on the desk.

Kamil traced his finger over her face, but the gloss couldn’t convey the feel of her skin. The phone blinked again, but he no longer checked every notification, read every comment. A realization had ripened inside him that something had to be done. The support from strangers had given him strength. Their advice all boiled down to almost the same thing.

She trusted the doctors and died. Who will answer? Go to the council. Don’t let them go unpunished! File a complaint!

Kamil opened the folder, pulled out the ultrasound images, medical reports, receipts for medication… and a printout with the name Dr. Bahar Özden. The name that had already flickered through his feed hundreds of times now lay before him on a white sheet of paper.

— Yes, — Kamil whispered, sliding the laptop closer, as if replying to all those people who had messaged him. — I won’t let it go!

Kamil began to type.

— Eighteen months ago a liver transplant was performed…, — he stopped, pinched the bridge of his nose. — Why? Why weren’t we warned about the risks? Why weren’t they watching more carefully?

He pushed the folder aside, rifled through the documents and froze when he came across the photographs. Each picture like a reminder of happier times.

— You wanted this child so much, — he looked at Ayshe sitting in the chair. — You dreamed of it.

A notification sounded again, but Kamil didn’t react; he continued to work.

— We need to gather every piece of evidence. Every moment. Every mistake must be recorded, — he whispered.

Still, he opened social media, read the comments, collected screenshots.

— They thought they could just sweep it under the rug? — determination showed on his face. — No. Now that the story is out on the Internet they won’t be able to stay silent.

Kamil drafted the complaint, printed it, reread it and immediately crossed it out with a red pen.

— Too soft, — he muttered and started again, harsher this time.

— I demand an investigation into the death of my wife Ayshe, who was treated by Dr. Bahar Özden. Pregnancy at 24 weeks. Post-liver-transplant. Lack of appropriate action on the part of the physicians.

He stopped, sighed.

— Someone has to pay, — he said louder.

A cup of cold tea sat on the table. Kamil picked it up and took a sip, wincing slightly. The bitterness in his throat now felt appropriate. He looked again at his phone screen. The feed hadn’t quieted. Activists, bloggers were writing. The name Bahar Özden surfaced in every headline. Kamil closed his eyes, but the screen’s light burned through his lids. Ayshe stood before him, like in the photograph — in a white dress, hands on her belly.

— I’m sorry, — he whispered. — I couldn’t protect you… but now — I will.

He gathered all the documents into the folder. He placed Ayshe’s photo on top of the file and leaned back in his chair.

The phone vibrated again.

— We will help you with a lawyer, don’t stay silent, — Kamil read the message.

— I won’t, — for the first time in a long while he nodded with certainty. — I will never be silent again.

Kamil stood up.

— On Monday someone will pay, — he said quietly, as if swearing an oath. — They will answer for every hour of delay. For every minute when Ayshe needed help.

He checked the time and went to the window. He looked out at the dark city before him.

— Someone has to pay, — he repeated like an incantation. — Not just money. Responsibility. The truth.

Returning to the desk, he took his wife’s photo and kissed it.

— I am doing this for you and for our baby. For justice.

He turned off the lamp. The room sank into darkness; only the laptop screen threw reflections on the walls, like an echo of his resolve.

— They will answer. Everyone will answer! — the monitor light illuminated his face, full of certainty about what he was going to do.

Now he had a purpose, and he would not stop until he achieved it...

***

They reached the doors, and the cold evening air hit their faces. Bahar walked between them — Yusuf on one side, Evren on the other, both supporting her by the arms. A sleek black motorcycle stood by the entrance. Evren frowned, studying it.

— Something wrong? — Yusuf asked, pulling his car keys from his pocket.

Evren looked at Bahar’s pale face.

— No. This won’t do, — he muttered. — You’re going by car, — he said, as if making a firm decision.

Bahar nodded wearily.

— We’ll switch, — sighed Evren, pulling out his motorcycle keys.

— Switch? What do you mean? — Yusuf asked.

— It means you give me your keys, — Evren said evenly but with finality. — I’ll take Bahar myself. It’s safer by car.

— Seriously? — Yusuf almost laughed. — Since when do you get to decide what I drive and who I take?

— Since I found out Bahar is pregnant, — Evren shot back. — With my child!

— And you’re saying I can’t handle it? — Yusuf stared him down. — I brought Bahar here, and I’ll take her back, — he scoffed.

— And why would you be the one taking her? — Evren’s voice turned colder.

— Because if Bahar’s carrying my brother or sister, — Yusuf said with a faint smirk, — then I should take care of her!

Bahar didn’t even have time to step in — his words hit their mark. Evren’s eyes narrowed.

— You trying to play the big brother now? — he asked dryly.

— No, — Yusuf lifted his chin, — I’m just being responsible.

— You’re both acting worse than children, — Bahar whispered, walking toward the car.

— Bahar, tell him you’re coming with me, — Evren said, — in the car, we’ll switch — he held out his motorcycle keys to Yusuf.

— I’ll go by car, — Bahar agreed, and Yusuf immediately opened the door for her. — Don’t argue, — she asked softly. — I’ll just sit in the car. It’ll be calmer for everyone.

Yusuf fastened her seat belt himself and closed the door. Turning around, he found Evren right behind him.

— The keys, — Evren demanded.

— Everything’s under control, Professor, — Yusuf said stubbornly. — You came on a motorcycle — it’s perfect for you. But for a woman who might be carrying my brother or sister, a motorcycle is a very dangerous vehicle, especially in her condition — and it’s cold already!

— Watch your wording, — Evren snapped, still holding out his hand for the keys.

The motorcycle beside them seemed to mock him with its cold shine.

— And you watch your tone, — Yusuf retorted. — You’re not in the operating room, Professor, — he stepped closer. — You’ve been riding for years, and now suddenly it’s dangerous?

— I have reasons to think differently now, — Evren said curtly.

— Or maybe you just have someone you’re afraid to lose, — Yusuf noted, his gaze steady.

— I’m a doctor, and I’m a man, — Evren met his eyes. — I have to think about the risks.

— Sometimes the risk isn’t in the vehicle, — Yusuf said calmly. — Sometimes it’s in the need to control everything around you.

They stood by the car, arguing in low voices so Bahar wouldn’t hear.

— She already decided she’s coming with me! — Yusuf said firmly.

— She chose the car, not you, — Evren shot back.

— Bahar chose me, Professor, when she asked me to take her to her first ultrasound, — Yusuf’s jab hit home; Evren went pale. — And I was the first to know she was pregnant. You can’t take that away from me! See you at home, Professor!

Yusuf clenched his jaw, walked around him, and got behind the wheel. Evren stood watching as the car pulled smoothly out of the parking lot. Their eyes met through the window — neither of them looked away until the car turned the corner and the headlights disappeared. Evren stood alone beside his motorcycle. He ran his hand over the cold metal, as if blaming it for the fact that Bahar had chosen Yusuf instead of him.

Evren just wanted to be near her. To feel that she was alive, to share the realization that she was carrying their child, their miracle… but once again, someone — or something — stood between them. Slowly, Evren slid his hand along the handlebars, as if over the face of a traitor, and exhaled.

He cursed under his breath. The helmet creaked in his grip as he put it on. The roar of the engine slammed against the hospital walls, echoing dully — but the sound was swallowed by the cold silence. The motorcycle shot forward as if Evren were fleeing his own thoughts.

Bahar looked out the car window and saw two fiery streaks of headlights cut through the darkness and vanish around the corner.

— He’ll catch up with us, — Yusuf said, glancing in the rearview mirror.

— I know, — she replied softly. — Only first — she stopped short and pressed her hand to her belly.

— He just loves very much, — Yusuf said with a genuine smile, as if comforted by the thought that Bahar was loved that deeply.

— Very much, — Bahar agreed. — Yusuf, we forgot Rengin! — she exclaimed.

— It’s all right, — he reached out and squeezed her hand. — She’s already gone home — she texted me.

— Home? — Bahar frowned. — Did she talk to Serhat? — there was concern in her voice. — What did they decide? How did it end?

— Uh, — Yusuf exhaled. — There might be my brother or sister involved there too, and I… — he glanced at her, — I didn’t even check on her, — now he was frowning too.

— What exactly did she text you? And why you? — Bahar asked, confused. She took out her phone and checked it — no new messages.

— When you were unconscious, — Yusuf whispered, guilt creeping into his voice. He realized that, worrying about Bahar, he had completely forgotten about Rengin and left her alone. — Bahar, — he looked at her, — I’m worried about Rengin, — he admitted. — They’re going to drive me crazy! — he said in frustration, and Bahar bit her lip to stop herself from laughing.

She knew perfectly well who he meant. His two possible fathers could indeed drive anyone insane. Bahar dialed Rengin’s number.

The dial tone stretched on for a long while. Bahar was about to hang up when she finally heard a faint, sleepy:

— Hello… — Rengin answered.

— Rengin? — Bahar asked anxiously. — Are you all right?

— Same as always, — she replied in a quiet, muffled voice. — Just tired.

— You made it home? — Bahar asked, glancing at Yusuf. His eyes silently asked — should we go there?

— Yes… — Rengin sighed.

Bahar heard her cough lightly, as if trying to pull herself together.

— And Serhat? Did you talk? — Bahar asked carefully.

— No, — after a brief pause, Rengin replied. — It didn’t happen. He… stayed with Esra, — her voice wavered, as though she had swallowed a lump in her throat mid-sentence.

— Rengin, you’re alone, aren’t you? — Bahar closed her eyes, already thinking about where she could bring Rengin if she came to stay with them.

— Alone, — Rengin whispered. — Serhat… stayed at the hospital.

— Then we’re coming to get you, — Bahar said firmly. — We’ll pick you up.

— No, — Rengin interrupted. — Bahar, you need to take care of yourself.

— I can do that with company, — Bahar insisted. — I’m not leaving you alone.

— Don’t, — Rengin repeated softly. — Just stay in touch, that’s all I ask.

Bahar noticed her voice had grown faint, as if she were sitting or lying down while speaking.

— Are you sure you’re okay? — Bahar asked, now alert.

— Of course… just a bit dizzy, — Rengin admitted.

— Wait, — Bahar tensed. — Did you faint?

Rengin didn’t answer right away.

— No… well, almost. — she tried to joke. — Just… dozed off on the floor.

— Rengin! — Bahar’s hand gripped the car door handle.

— It’s fine, I’m fine, don’t worry, — Rengin said softly. — It’s just… everything’s too much. The baby. Sert. I… got upset.

— So did I, — Bahar sighed. — Sert… — she trailed off.

— Yes, — Rengin caught the word. — What about Sert Kaya? — she asked cautiously.

— Better not ask, — Bahar exhaled.

— So it’s really that bad, — Rengin murmured, barely audibly.

Bahar closed her eyes, feeling the weight of exhaustion press down on her.

— On Monday, everything will be resolved, — she said firmly, as if convincing herself.

— And if it’s not? — Rengin’s tone seemed to frown, though Bahar couldn’t see it.

— Then we’ll start again, — Bahar said, shrugging slightly.

They both fell silent; only their uneven breathing could be heard.

— Bahar, — Rengin whispered. — Thank you for calling.

— I didn’t just call, — Bahar said firmly. — I’ll talk to Parla. You won’t be alone, do you hear me? I can send the girls to you — they’ll make sure you don’t get bored.

— No, don’t send anyone… — Rengin tried to protest.

— I will, — Bahar cut her off. — Sometimes you have to let people take care of you, — she whispered, and then caught Yusuf’s gaze.

He was watching her, eyebrows slightly raised, and Bahar waved a hand, silently asking him not to look at her like that.

— Maybe you’re right, — Rengin finally agreed.

— Then it’s settled, — Bahar said and ended the call.

She sat holding the phone, staring into the darkness beyond the car window. A heavy sense of unease rose in her chest — something about Rengin didn’t feel right.

— Everything okay? — Yusuf asked, glancing at her.

— No, — Bahar answered quietly, — but it will be. It has to be.

— I can go instead of the girls, — Yusuf offered.

Bahar looked at him, nodding slightly. She hadn’t decided who yet — she just knew one thing for sure: she wasn’t leaving Rengin alone.

***

He didn’t leave her alone. The door closed behind them with a dull click. Gülçicek was the first to walk deeper into the room, take off her scarf, and toss it onto a chair.

— Well, here we are, — she said coldly. — You don’t have to walk me in. I can manage on my own.

Reha didn’t answer. He took off his jacket, hung it over the back of a chair, and looked at her.

— We still came home together, — he said quietly. — We’re in our home.

— So what? — she turned toward him. — That doesn’t mean we made peace.

He stepped closer, almost brushing her cheek.

— I wanted to talk about Bahar, — he began.

— Of course, — Gülçicek cut him off. — You married me just to talk about my daughter.

— Gülçicek… — he tried to place a hand on her shoulder, but she pulled away.

— No, Reha. Sort out your own past before you meddle in my daughter’s family, — she said tiredly, though her voice trembled with anger.

— Evren is the head of the family, — Reha said quietly. — He should know what’s going on.

— The head of the family? — she raised an eyebrow. — Maybe you should try being one yourself, just once?

— You turn everything into an argument, — Reha sighed, shaking his head.

— And you turn everything into an excuse, — Gülçicek snapped, throwing her bag onto the same chair as the scarf.

She walked past him and switched on the floor lamp. Warm light fell on her stubborn face.

— We’re still young, relatively, — she said dryly. — You’re going back to the hospital on Monday. I’ll start working too. It’s time we moved on.

He came closer, stopping just beside her.

— Enough about work, — he said suddenly. — We’re newlyweds, remember?

— No, — she turned toward him, — you forgot. Not me.

Reha smirked, flipped the switch, and the room sank into soft half-light.

— What are you doing? — Gülçicek asked warily.

— Improvising an evening, — Reha said, grabbing the remote. He pressed a button, but the speaker didn’t turn on.

— Even the music ran away from you, — Gülçicek snorted.

— Then the dance will be without music, — Reha said, stepping toward her confidently.

— Don’t come closer, — she warned, holding up a hand — but she didn’t step back.

He came anyway. He took her hands, lifted them slightly, then placed one on his shoulder.

— Come on, Gülçicek, — Reha whispered. — One dance. Just don’t hit me, — he teased, leaning back a little as if dodging an imaginary slap.

— I’m still angry, — she warned, looking him straight in the eyes.

— If you’re angry, that’s fine, — Reha said, resting a hand on her waist and squeezing her fingers with the other. — It means you still feel something.

— Don’t play with words, Reha, — she warned.

— I’m not playing, — he said softly. — I’m listening to you.

They began to move slowly, without rhythm, yet somehow in perfect sync. The light from the window fell across their faces. Her fingers, cold at first, began to tremble slightly in his hand.

— I haven’t forgiven you, — she reminded him.

— I already explained, — Reha replied calmly.

— But you didn’t tell the whole truth, — she said, meeting his eyes.

— Almost, — he sighed.

— And… — she began, but he didn’t let her finish.

Reha leaned in and kissed her — not as an apology, but as if to end their argument once and for all. Gülçicek flinched at first, then sighed heavily and gave in, pressing against him. His hands slid to her back, her fingers to his shoulders.

— You’re impossible, — Gülçicek whispered.

— Maybe, — he agreed. — But still, we’re together. I’m your husband.

He brushed his hand through her hair and kissed her temple.

— Come on, — he said quietly. — The dance is over.

— That doesn’t mean I’ve forgiven you, — she reminded him, but her voice had lost its anger; there was only stubborn tenderness left.

— I know, — Reha smiled. — But you’re here. We’re together. That’s enough for now.

He led her toward the bedroom, not letting go of her hands. And even when the last light behind the door went out, the tension between them didn’t fade — it only grew quieter, deeper.

— The music’s in your head, — Gülçicek murmured. — And in my case, you’re still playing on my nerves, — she added, placing her hands on his shoulders again. — Move, Professor.

Reha blinked in surprise but obeyed, letting her lead this silent dance. They moved slowly, almost in rhythm with the stillness. He watched her closely.

— Enough about the past, Gülçicek, — Reha pleaded. — I’m tired of talking about guilt, about Meryem, about all of it.

Gülçicek brushed an invisible speck off his shoulder. She tilted her head slightly, as if considering something.

— Then let’s talk, — she whispered, pressing her cheek against his. — About something else.

— About what? — Reha asked, suddenly cautious.

— About men in white coats, for example, — she suggested.

— What? — he nearly stepped on her foot, thrown off their silent rhythm.

— Yes, — she said lightly, almost playfully. — Remember that veterinary clinic near my house? There was this doctor who came every day… tall, with dimples, smelled of mint and coffee. That’s probably when I realized I loved doctors.

— You’re serious? — Reha frowned.

— Of course, — she nodded without pulling away, holding him tighter instead. — He once told me I had the neatest hands in the neighborhood. Since then, I’ve believed hands are the most important thing — in a man, I mean.

Reha faltered, and she adjusted their pace, keeping the rhythm steady — then continued the dance.

Reha held her a little tighter in his arms.

— Go on, — he whispered hoarsely.

— Go on with what? — she stepped back, still holding his gaze. — We never even kissed. Once, he just took my wrist to check my pulse. And I thought then, if anyone could ever stop my heart, it would be a doctor.

— Are you checking mine now? — Reha asked, eyes fixed on hers.

— Maybe, — Gülçicek smiled faintly. — You’ve got a white coat in your closet too, haven’t you?

— Are you saying that just to make me jealous? — he murmured, leaning closer.

— Are you jealous? — her eyes gleamed.

— Out of my mind, — he confessed, his breathing uneven.

— Then the mission’s accomplished, — she whispered, guiding his hand to her waist.

They began to move again — a slow, barely-there dance. Reha drew her closer, his breath quickening.

— Gülçicek, — he exhaled. — Was that a joke?

— What do you think? — she brushed her lips against his cheek.

— I don’t know anymore when you’re playing with words and when you’re telling the truth, — he murmured.

— Good, — Gülçicek smiled. — Let it stay a mystery. A man should be a little afraid of his woman.

He laughed quietly, but the laugh ended in a kiss.

— Don’t think that means I’ve forgiven you, — she whispered, leaning back slightly.

— I know, — he said. — But if you’re going to be angry like this, I don’t mind being angry with you.

Reha turned her gently, guiding her toward the bed.

— What are you doing, Reha? — Gülçicek gasped, breathless.

— Checking your pulse, — he replied softly, easing her down so she fell lightly onto the bed. — Should I put on the coat, Mrs. Gülçicek? — he asked, standing beside her.

— Why put it on, if you’ll just take it off again? — she countered.

Reha laughed.

— You do realize, I’m never letting you go back to your house again, — he said, undoing the buttons on his shirt. — Hands, coats… — he muttered.

— Hm, — Gülçicek smirked. — If you can manage to keep me, Mr. Reha. Though the pharmacist in the glasses with the horn frames — she began.

— Enough! — Reha finally lost his patience.

— Oh, I thought you liked heart-to-heart conversations, Professor, — she teased, propping herself up on her elbows. — What do you want, Reha? To write me a prescription — “two doses of tenderness, three of silence”?

— I said enough, — his voice was sharp with both jealousy and laughter. — No pharmacy, no doctors… except me.

He stepped closer, kneeling beside the bed, covering her hands with his. Gülçicek met his eyes stubbornly for a moment, then slowly ran her fingers along his wrist.

— Pulse is fast, — she whispered. — You’ve overdosed on jealousy, Mr. Reha.

— We’ll stabilize it, — he said softly. — Clinically.

— Then skip the explanations, — she murmured with a smile, tugging him down by his collar. — You’re the only one on duty tonight.

He answered her with a short, wordless kiss — and broke it off abruptly at her teasing. The shirt slipped to the floor. The air thickened, heavy as the night beyond the window.

— And remember, — he breathed against her, — no more veterinarians, no more mint and coffee.

— None, — she agreed, a hint of laughter in her voice. — Tonight I have an appointment with my family doctor. But tomorrow… who knows?

His hand slid along her back; her fingers lingered on his shoulders. Their musicless dance continued — the argument fading, not gone, only dissolving into the quiet, deeper darkness. It left behind a warmth on their palms that no white coat could ever imitate.

***

The day felt impossibly long. As soon as Bahar stepped through the door, she heard a strange hum — as if even the walls were whispering about the latest news. Siren and Uraz were arguing in the kitchen, and Bahar immediately hurried there.

— Two are enough for us! — Uraz exclaimed, slapping his hand on the table. — We barely sleep as it is!

— I’m not pregnant! — Siren shouted back. — Uraz, are you even listening to me?!

Bahar froze in the doorway, catching the last words.

— What do you mean, not pregnant? — she asked, holding onto the doorframe.

Siren turned around and threw up her hands.

— Bahar! Perfect timing! — she sighed. — It’s not me, it’s Umay who’s pregnant! — she finally blurted out.

— What?! — Bahar went pale and swayed, and Yusuf caught her just in time.

— Siren, maybe try being a little gentler with your announcements, — he muttered.

— Umay? — Bahar barely managed to say. — Umay’s pregnant?! — she started shaking all over.

Footsteps sounded on the stairs, and Bahar turned.

— Who’s pregnant?! — Umay was coming down, a towel over her head and a cup in her hands. — Me?

— You! — Siren and Çagla shouted at once.

— What?! — the cup slipped from Umay’s hands, but Yusuf caught it midair. — You’ve all lost your minds! — Umay shouted. — What is wrong with you people?!

— It’s your test, — Siren declared, snatching the test from Uraz’s hand. Clutching the incriminating stick like a piece of evidence, she stepped forward. — I found it in the bathroom!

— In the bathroom?! — Umay blinked, confused. — That’s not my test!

— Then whose is it? — Çagla asked and immediately turned suspiciously toward Yusuf. — Don’t tell me this is your fault!

— What?! — Yusuf gasped. — My fault?! No! Absolutely not!

— Then whose? — Siren demanded, looking around the room. — Cem?!

— What about Cem?! — came a voice from the door.

Everyone turned. Evren had just come in, helmet in hand. He was already irritated, and walking straight into a family scandal was the last thing he needed.

— What about Cem?! — he repeated, looking around — but most of all, at Bahar, whose face was completely drained of color.

— Cem’s the father, — Siren blurted.

— Father of what?! — Evren went pale. — What’s happening here?!

— Umay’s pregnant, — Bahar whispered.

Evren froze. The helmet slipped from his hands.

— What… — he breathed, grabbing the wall for support. — How could she be pregnant? That’s impossible.

— I’m not pregnant! — Umay screamed. — How many times do I have to say it?!

— But the test — Siren held it up as proof. — I found it in the bathroom after you. You’ve been nervous, that’s normal. We’ll handle it, right, Bahar?

— Handle what?! — Umay shouted, stepping toward her. — I’m not pregnant!

— Handle what exactly? — Evren asked, still trying to make sense of any of it.

— Where did you find it? — Bahar asked quietly, holding onto the wall. She looked at Evren, who was on the verge of fainting. — Yusuf, — she nodded toward him, and he went to support Evren.

— In the downstairs bathroom, by the living room, — Siren replied.

— Thank God, — Bahar breathed out and headed for the couch — her legs barely holding her.

Umay stood speechless, her arms spread slightly. Everyone’s eyes turned to Bahar. She sat down, covered her face with her hands, and sighed deeply.

— Not hers… — Bahar whispered. — Mine.

The room went dead silent.

— I’m sorry, what?! — Uraz looked from his mother to Evren, bewildered. — So Mom… is having a baby?! — his voice rose. — She’s really pregnant? You actually went through with it?!

— None of your business! — Evren barked, taking a step toward him.

— Uraz! — Siren grabbed his arm. — Stop! Do you want me to get pregnant too? Because I swear, I’ll make it happen!

Uraz clenched his jaw and shut his eyes for a moment. The nightmare of thinking Siren was pregnant — that they were having another baby — had just ended, only to be replaced by a new one: Bahar was pregnant. And somehow, that terrified him even more.

— Oh, this is wonderful! — Çagla exclaimed, clapping her hands as she sat down next to Bahar. — Congratulations, my little bird! — she wrapped an arm around her shoulders, beaming at Evren.

Umay stood motionless, her mouth slightly open.

— Mom, — she barely managed to say. — Is it true?

— It’s true, — Bahar lifted her head and met her grown daughter’s eyes.

Umay sighed, her expression torn between fear and disbelief.

— I don’t know if I’m happy or scared, — she admitted, stepping back.

— Don’t be scared, — Evren said softly, walking toward her. — I’m not taking your mother away from you. — He’d finally regained some composure; his breathing steadied.

Umay looked into his eyes.

— I want you both to be happy, — she whispered, — I just don’t know how you’re going to make it work, — and before anyone could reply, she turned and ran upstairs.

Evren made a move to follow, but Bahar caught his hand.

— I’ll go, — she whispered, leaning briefly against him. He managed to pull her into a quick embrace.

They both exhaled at once — a shared moment of relief that Umay’s supposed pregnancy had turned out false.

— Is the epicenter calming down? — he asked quietly.

She shook her head, tiredly.

— Not yet, — she sighed. — I think this is just the beginning.

Evren pulled her closer.

— Then hold on tight, Dr. Bahar Özden, — he said, a trace of a smile tugging at his lips. The anger had drained away; she was here, in his arms, even as chaos raged around them. — The most interesting part is still ahead. — His lips brushed her temple.

— Let’s just hope there won’t be any new test strips, — Bahar murmured, glancing over his shoulder at Uraz.

Siren smiled; Uraz, however, looked tense. His attention had already shifted from his wife to Bahar. Siren walked up to Evren and Bahar.

— Now you can officially be congratulated, — she said warmly, hugging them both.

— Thank you, Siren, — Bahar said with a tired smile. — Just please, no more panic attacks for the next nine months.

Siren laughed, tugging on Uraz’s sleeve.

— Come on, — she whispered, — before you start lecturing everyone about morality and age again.

— And who’s supposed to listen to me anyway? — he grumbled, but followed her up the stairs.

— If you say the word “enough” one more time, I’ll remind you who actually decides how many kids we’re having, — Siren shot back, still holding his hand as they climbed.

Downstairs, things grew quiet again. Çagla walked up and hugged both Bahar and Evren.

— Well, now we officially have a full department, — she laughed. — Baby, parents, and every possible diagnosis of happiness.

Bahar and Evren hugged her back.

— Thank you, Çagla, — Evren smiled. — Only you would call it a diagnosis of happiness.

— I’m a doctor, — Çagla winked. — Occupational hazard.

Yusuf stood a little apart, silent. He was the only one who hadn’t congratulated them — and yet, he quietly turned and left for the living room. He sank onto the sofa, trying to process everything that had happened that day.

Bahar turned back to Evren. He was still holding her hand — not as a doctor or a man, but as someone afraid to let go for even a second. She smiled softly, meeting his gaze.

— I need to talk to Umay, — she reminded him.

Evren nodded wordlessly. His expression softened, though traces of shock and relief still flickered beneath it — along with the fragile, childlike joy he had felt the moment he heard they were having a baby. His fingers brushed her cheek, his lips touched her forehead. He knew how exhausted she was — and how hard she was still fighting to stay steady.

— Go, — he said quietly.

— Then I’ll come back down, and we’ll sit at the table, — she sighed. — I’m starving, — her hand drifted to her belly, — and so is your child, — she added with a smile.

Evren’s hand trembled as he touched her stomach.

— Say one more word, — he whispered, — and you’re not going anywhere until you eat something, — he warned softly.

— You’re hungry too, Evren, — Bahar whispered.

— I’m the only one who hasn’t eaten, — Çagla chimed in.

— I — Bahar stopped herself. She didn’t want to make promises she wasn’t sure she could keep. She didn’t know how long that talk with Umay might take.

She nodded, squeezed his hand, and then, letting go, started up the stairs. Evren watched her go — and for the first time that day, he felt no fear, only a quiet, unfamiliar calm.

***

Voices drifted up from downstairs, doors opening and closing — and yet a calm settled over her. Bahar stopped at the top of the stairs. Parla was standing by the window, reading something on her phone.

— Parla, may I? — Bahar asked softly as she approached.

— Of course, — Parla quickly hid her phone, as if she’d been caught. — I was just… standing here.

Bahar came to stand beside her. For a few moments they both stayed silent, looking out into the courtyard — the table still set, the grill gone cold. A cool evening breeze drifted in through the half-open window.

— You didn’t say much today, — Bahar finally said. — You were almost invisible.

— Everyone else said enough for me, — Parla shrugged. — With so many big announcements in one house, my words aren’t really needed, — she sighed.

— Sometimes silence is what’s needed, — Bahar leaned a hand against the wall. — It gives others space to hear themselves.

— Do you always talk like that? — Parla squinted at her. — Or only when you’re trying to calm someone down?

— Only when I feel someone’s tired, — Bahar answered gently. — Your mother’s probably tired too, — she added carefully, her gaze still turned toward the window.

— Where is she, by the way? — Parla asked, looking away; there was tension in her voice.

— She went home, — Bahar said.

— Home? — Parla blinked and turned to her. — Just like that? She didn’t even say goodbye?

— We were at the hospital, — Bahar reached out and brushed a strand of hair from Parla’s face. — She decided not to come back tonight, especially since you’re staying here with us.

Parla looked down, turning her phone in her hands.

— She’s good at leaving quietly, — she said with a dry laugh. — She’s been doing that my whole life — slipping away in the evenings.

Bahar tilted her head, looking at her gently.

— And daughters… sometimes can be the ones to go after their mothers, — she said softly. — Not because they have to, but because they know how to care, too.

— I’ve been taking care of her my whole life, — Parla muttered, pressing her lips together. — While she was running after Timur — she stopped herself — my father.

Bahar didn’t interrupt. She simply looked at her with quiet, maternal warmth — no judgment, just listening.

— Maybe that’s exactly why you should go, — she said quietly. — To take care of her not out of habit, but because you want to. You miss her too.

Parla was silent for a long moment, then gave a small nod.

— I… don’t know what to say or what to do, — she sighed, slipping her phone into her pocket.

— Just sit with her, — Bahar suggested. — Sometimes that’s all it takes.

— Did something happen to my mom? — Parla asked, alert.

Bahar squeezed her hand.

— Your mother’s been suspended from her position, — she reminded gently. — Isn’t that enough for now?

Parla nodded slowly.

— How do I get there? A taxi? — she asked.

— Yusuf will drive you, — Bahar said. — He’s waiting in the living room.

Parla started toward the stairs, then turned back.

— Do you always do that? — she asked.

— Do what? — Bahar was still standing by the window.

— Talk in a way that makes a person not realize they’ve just been persuaded, — Parla smiled faintly.

— That’s not a skill, — Bahar said, lowering her hand. — That’s a mother’s instinct.

— Tell my mom, if she calls, — Parla began to descend the stairs, — that I just… felt like visiting her.

— I will, — Bahar smiled. — And tell her everything’s going to be all right.

Parla paused for a heartbeat, turned back, then nodded and went downstairs. Bahar lingered by the window, watching as Yusuf opened the car door for Parla. She waited until the car pulled out of the courtyard — only then did she head upstairs toward Umay’s room…

***

— So… not Umay after all, — Evren murmured. — I’ll take that as good news.

— Still, — said Çagla, — you’ve got yourself a whole family now.

Evren turned to her and sighed wearily.

— Don’t call it whole, — he said. — I’m only just learning how to be part of it.

— Then welcome to the family, — she said warmly. — Now we’ll see what you do with it, as the head of the household. — She nudged his shoulder playfully.

Evren chuckled softly, nodded, and lowered his head as he walked over to the coffee machine. The sound of keys jingled in Çagla’s hand, and Evren turned.

— You’re leaving already? — he asked.

— Yes, — she smiled. — Before another family council starts up in this house.

— We’d be happy to have one, — Evren said with a smirk.

— You already have one, — she teased. — And from the looks of it, without any agenda.

Evren pressed the button on the machine, and it began to hum, heating the water for coffee.

— So, you’ve got the full set now, huh? — said Çagla. — Kids, grandkids, nerves, panic, miracles.

— Didn’t even have time to become a father before they nearly made me a grandfather, — Evren chuckled. — You know, — he looked at her — I’d rather try being a father first, — he said quietly. — Then maybe a grandfather later.

— Then be one, — Çagla replied simply. And then, with a smile: — Would you want that, though?

— Want what? — he asked, not following.

— To be called Grandpa Evren, — she said, amused.

— I’d just like to be a father first, — Evren said softly. — For once — a real one. No white coat, no surgeries, no rushing around. Just… there.

— Then be there, — Çagla said, almost embracing him. — Nothing’s stopping you.

— Everything’s stopping me, — he answered too quickly. — Mostly myself. First I have to prove I am a father, — he sighed. — That stupid DNA test… — he rubbed his temple. — The result comes Monday.

— A test isn’t an answer, Evren, — Çagla interrupted. — If tests decided everything, half of us wouldn’t have families. Do you really think the result will tell you who you are?

— I don’t know, — he shrugged. — But it might tell me who I wasn’t.

— You know, — Çagla sighed, — Bahar’s strong, but right now she doesn’t need a surgeon, or a doctor. She needs a man.

— I’m here, — he said quietly.

— Physically, yes. But are you here with your soul? — she looked straight into his eyes.

— You’re starting to sound like her, — Evren smiled faintly.

— Maybe it’s age, — Çagla smiled back. — You start quoting her the older you get.

— You could stay, you know, — Evren suggested. — Have dinner with us? — He glanced toward the door, his voice softening. — I think you’re the only one who hasn’t lost her mind today.

Çagla laughed.

— If only you’d seen me an hour ago, when Siren and I couldn’t figure out how to talk to Umay, and then how to tell Bahar everything, — she said, walking closer and patting his shoulder. — This is your home now, Evren.

— That’s not an answer, — he said quietly, lifting the small cup of coffee.

— It’s a challenge, — Çagla smiled. — Welcome to the family, Professor.

— And what exactly does that mean? — Evren frowned. — What am I supposed to do now?

— What the head of a family should do, — she said as she moved toward the door. — Not save everyone — just be there.

Evren followed her outside, coffee cup in hand.

— Evren, — she called to him by the car.

— Yes? — he took a sip.

— Just… don’t run away again, — she said, waved to him, and got into the taxi.

Evren stood on the doorstep, sipping his coffee, the motorcycle keys turning in his fingers — still unable to decide whether to go back inside… or step out through the gate.

***

Bahar knocked on the door and stepped into her daughter’s room.

— May I? — she asked softly, standing in the doorway without moving further in.

Umay sat on the bed, her hair loose and messy after removing the towel from her head.

— Mom, — Umay began, — I wanted to say I’m not angry, — she said haltingly, but with sincerity.

— Thank you, — Bahar whispered, tears glinting in her eyes.

— It’s just… now you’ll choose him, — Umay said, lowering her head.

— What? — Bahar asked, taking a step closer.

— Evren. You’ll choose him, — Umay repeated quietly. — That’s how it always happens.

She didn’t say it with bitterness — just a fact that troubled her.

— Umay… I’m not choosing anyone, — Bahar sat down beside her on the bed. — I’m choosing life.

— Life without us? — Umay asked. — Without me?

— I don’t know how to live without you, — Bahar said, wrapping her arm around her shoulders. — I’m trying to be with you, but it doesn’t always work.

— And if it doesn’t work at all? — Umay’s voice trembled. — You always keep everything inside.

— Umay, please, no shouting, — Bahar said, tension in her voice. — We’re all tired.

— You always say that! — Umay burst out. — Everyone’s tired, everything’s under control, and then you collapse unconscious! — Bahar went pale. For a second, she didn’t understand how Umay could know about her fainting, until she realized it was just a figure of speech.

— I’m fine, — she whispered.

— Fine?! — Umay almost shouted. — You’re pregnant, Mom! Pregnant! You’re over forty! You’ve had a liver transplant! — She jumped to her feet, pacing the room. — You operate on people and think you can just start over?! I don’t understand how you can think of anything except taking care of yourself! And now Evren! And a baby!

— Umay… — Bahar stood up.

— No, wait! — Umay backed away. — You’re the one who taught us better! And now you’re acting like some lovestruck teenager!

— I’m alive, — Bahar said calmly. — I have the right to be in love, even at forty.

— Then what about me?! — Umay spread her hands helplessly.

— What do you mean? — Bahar took a step closer.

— You don’t need me anymore! It’s all him now! Evren, Evren, Evren! — tears streamed down her cheeks. — You’ve got a new life, a new baby, a new everything… and what about us? Me?

Bahar stepped closer, but Umay pulled back.

— Don’t touch me! — she whispered. — You didn’t even think about whether your children can handle your new life.

— Enough, — Bahar cut her off.

— Enough what?! — Umay lifted her head.

— Panic. Doubt. Fear, — Bahar said firmly, almost like a mantra, taking another step toward her. — Evren did an ultrasound today. My liver’s fine, Umay. I’m not dying, I’m not disappearing, and I won’t disappear!

Umay stared at her, as if trying to tell whether she was lying.

— Really? — she asked.

— Is that true, Mom? — came a voice from the door. It was Uraz. — Evren really did an ultrasound on you?

— Yes, — Bahar said softly.

— But you said it could be dangerous, — Umay turned to her brother. — Tell her, Uraz!

— It’s dangerous if you don’t know what you’re doing, — Bahar sighed, answering for him. — I know what I’m doing. I’m a doctor. And I’m alive.

— I just… I don’t understand this love, Mom. I don’t, — Umay said, shaking her head.

— Me neither, Mom, — added Uraz, stepping closer.

— You don’t have to understand, — Bahar said, pulling both her grown children into an embrace. — Love isn’t something you study.

— What if he hurts you again? — Umay asked quietly. — I see how you look at him. You forgive everything.

— Maybe I just don’t want to fight anymore, — Bahar said, breathing in the familiar scent of her children.

— But we’ve been fighting all day, like we’re on a battlefield! — Uraz muttered.

— And Cem? — Umay blurted suddenly. — He wanted to be understood too! And now Parla’s texting him! Has she completely lost her mind?!

— Don’t mix things up, — Bahar said calmly. — That’s different.

— To me it’s all the same, — Umay exhaled. — They all promise and then leave.

— Not all, Umay, — Bahar said, touching her cheek. — Some stay.

— Really? And how long can you keep this up? — Umay asked. — Between him, work, and us… — she gave a bitter smile. — You’re not made of steel, Mom.

— Maybe not. But love doesn’t rust, — Bahar said, looking into their eyes.

Umay broke first — she threw her arms around her mother, pressing her forehead to Bahar’s shoulder. Uraz joined them, wrapping his arms around both.

— I just don’t want to lose you, — Umay whispered.

— We couldn’t stand it if something happened to you, — Uraz said softly.

— You won’t lose me, — Bahar kissed them both on the head, ruffling their hair. — I’m here. Always.

They stood like that for a while, holding on to one another.

— I still don’t understand, — Umay said finally, — how you manage to handle all this.

— Sometimes I don’t, — Bahar admitted. — But I have you.

Umay looked up and tried to smile.

— And the baby, right? — she asked.

— And the baby, — Bahar nodded.

— Fine… then I’ll try not to annoy you, — Uraz muttered. — No promises though.

— You’d better, — Umay flared up. — For Mom and the baby. That’s our brother or sister!

— That’s actually a good thing, — Bahar smiled. — When you two argue, I know the house is alive.

Uraz and Umay exchanged a look.

— You’re crazy, Mom, — Umay said, hugging her even tighter.

— It’s hereditary, — Uraz grinned.

They all laughed. Bahar placed her hand over her stomach and, for the first time that day, felt silence — a silence that held space for life.

***

The house breathed silence. Bahar stepped into the bedroom and closed the door behind her.

The air still carried his scent — light, sharp, familiar. His shirt lay on the armchair, his phone on the nightstand. But Evren himself was gone.

— Evren? — she called softly. No answer.

Bahar ran her hand over the bedsheet — cold. Something stung in her chest. She went to the closet and pushed the door open — empty. The bathroom too. The towel was dry, the mirror fogged only by her own breath. A chill ran down her spine. If not for the phone on the nightstand, she might have thought he’d never even come upstairs.

Bahar went to the window and drew the curtain aside. The yard was wrapped in dusk, the lamp above the gate flickering weakly. And there — by the gate — she saw him. Evren stood motionless, as if weighing something, unable to decide. Then suddenly he turned and walked away. Bahar froze, not believing her eyes.

— Evren? — the name broke from her lips, but he had already vanished beyond the gate.

She wanted to run after him, but her body refused. She just stood there, staring, struggling to understand that he had simply… left. Left her. Left them. Her hand pressed against her stomach. A pulse — instinct — and she was already by the door. A rush of thoughts — and she stopped, turned back into the bedroom.

Her ears rang; her heart fluttered painfully against her throat.

— Evren, — she whispered, staring at his phone.

The panic that had nearly taken her breath slowly began to recede. He’d just gone out. He would come back. He had to come back. Not now, not after what they’d just learned. Bahar picked up his phone, held it for a moment, then set it gently back on the nightstand. He would’ve taken it — and his things — if he’d truly meant to leave.

Forcing herself to move, Bahar walked to the wardrobe. She opened it, her eyes unfocused, movements mechanical. She took her robe, slid open a drawer. She wasn’t even sure what she was doing anymore — just acting on instinct.

She showered, breathing through the pounding of her heart. Wrapped in a towel, she dried her hair, listening to the heavy silence that had swallowed the house — the same house that only hours ago buzzed with arguments and laughter. She listened, hoping to hear his footsteps… but Evren didn’t return.

She put on a T-shirt, threw her robe over it, leaving it open, and went back to the closet. Her hands trembled as she pulled open a drawer and stared for a long time before taking a small box. She needed to feel his presence somehow. The cool metal against her warm skin made her shiver.

In the mirror, her reflection stared back — hair tousled, wide green eyes full of worry, his black shirt clinging to her frame, his pendant resting against her collarbone. Bahar pulled the robe closed tightly and tied the knot with trembling fingers.

— Evren, — she whispered into the emptiness of their room.

The silence became unbearable. It felt as if the house itself had absorbed her fear. She swallowed hard, left the room, and descended the stairs. The night air hit her as she stepped into the yard.

Bahar stopped by the motorcycle. It still smelled faintly of gasoline. The helmet lay on the seat. If he had truly wanted to leave, he wouldn’t have left his bike behind… Yes, he was angry that she’d left with Yusuf, but she couldn’t get on a motorcycle now — not while carrying their child. What if she had fainted on the road? Didn’t he understand that?

Bahar looked around, bewildered. Her eyes swept across the yard — the still-covered table, untouched food, the basket Ismail had brought still sitting under a napkin. No one had eaten.

Nevra? Bahar realized suddenly that Nevra wasn’t home — she hadn’t returned. Bahar reached for her phone, meaning to call, then stopped… What if she disturbed her? And her mother — Gülçicek — hadn’t called either. Deciding not to bother anyone, Bahar slipped the phone back into her pocket and stepped outside the gate — in her robe and slippers.

She sighed, turned, glanced around. No sign of Evren. Just as she was about to go back inside, she noticed a silhouette.

A woman stood by a tree, her arms wrapped around it for support, leaning as if she were faint or unsteady. Bahar didn’t think — she went toward her.

— Are you all right? — she called.

— What? — the woman answered, her voice carrying a faint accent, and turned toward her.

Bahar’s eyes widened instantly. Her mouth opened in shock.

— Meryem? — she whispered, blinking.

— Bahar, — Meryem slowly let go of the tree and straightened up.

Bahar’s heartbeat thundered in her temples, drowning out every other sound. She couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. Everything around them seemed to stop. Only the streetlight shifted, casting a trembling glow across their faces — two women, two lives, and one man binding them together.