Bahar, wrapped in a long, thin robe with wide sleeves that looked more like a man’s shirt, walked into the bedroom and immediately turned off the overhead light. The bedside lamp stayed on, casting a soft half-light. Evren was already half-sitting on the bed.

— What took you so long downstairs? — he asked. — Come here. — He reached out his hand.

— It’s late, Evren. — Bahar smiled faintly but didn’t sit next to him. — We have to wake up early tomorrow.

— You’re still upset with me? — He immediately got up and stepped closer.

— Evren… — she drew out his name, leaning toward him, but instead of embracing him, her hand only brushed across his shoulder. — I’m just tired, it was such a long day. — She hated saying it, but she had to.

She instantly caught the whole spectrum of emotions on his face, and he didn’t even try to hide them.

— I thought that since we ran away so early this morning, the night would be ours. — He leaned forward, his palms settling on her waist. — We had dinner, remember? — He reminded her with a smile. — Now it’s time for a shower.

— Not tonight. — Avoiding his eyes, she caught his hands, unclasped them, and slipped out of his embrace.

Evren frowned at once.

— Bahar… — His hand nearly touched her shoulder, but she intercepted it again and moved past him.

— I’m taking a shower alone. — Her voice was firm, as if she was putting a period on the sentence.

— Alone? — His tone was too sharp. — You make me feel like I’m not wanted.

— Evren, we don’t have to do everything together! — Her reply was too impulsive, too forceful. — I just need a little space!

— Space from me? — He was barely holding himself together. — Are you serious? After five months apart, you want solitude?

Bahar froze, her eyes locking with his.

— After five months, I’m learning how to be with you again. — She blurted it out in a single breath.

And with that, Bahar left, closing the door behind her. Evren stayed standing in the middle of the bedroom, jaw clenched, utterly confused. The conversation hadn’t gone well — too much weighed on them, especially that incident with the transplant patient.

Water ran down her back. Bahar closed her eyes, thinking she had found refuge, escaped his questions. She didn’t even have time to react when the door opened.

— Evren! — she gasped, her voice breaking. — I asked you not to.

He was already beside her… and the bathroom light revealed what she had tried to hide — red marks on her shoulders, back, and arm. Bruises stood out clearly against her skin. Evren’s expression changed in an instant. From playful, it turned sharp, pained. She immediately stepped into him, wrapped her arms around him, pressed herself against him.

— Who did this? — His voice trembled, eyes blazing with anger, his fists clenching.

— No one. — She answered too quickly, almost burying herself in him, refusing to let go. — Please, Evren. — She pleaded.

— It was that bastard in the ER, wasn’t it?! — He managed to pull back just enough to look her in the eyes. — Was it him?

— It doesn’t matter, Evren. — Bahar repeated. — The girl is alive.

He touched her shoulder, and she flinched — not from pain, but from his insistence. Still, he didn’t stop. His lips brushed her skin, kissing her carefully.

— Do you think I’ll let anyone leave marks like this on you? — he whispered. — You tried to hide this from me, Bahar? — Now his voice carried a strange mixture: rage, grief, guilt for not being there, for not protecting her, for not stopping it.

— Evren… — Her arms circled his neck, her body pressing against his. — They’re just bruises, don’t make a drama out of it.

— You seriously wanted to hide this from me? — Her answer clearly didn’t satisfy him, and she realized how much it mattered to him.

— You’re a doctor, Evren. — Her lips brushed his shoulder, his neck. — Nothing can be hidden from you. — She kissed him again. — Sometimes I think you scan me like an X-ray.

— I would’ve killed him on the spot. — He held her tightly, then loosened his grip the moment he felt her tense.

— That’s exactly why you need to stay a doctor, not a reckless boy. — Bahar sighed. — Doctors save lives, they don’t take them. Don’t treat me like porcelain, Evren. These are only bruises.

— Not “only” to me. — His voice was stubborn. — You said doctor? — His tone softened slightly. — Want me to give you an exam?

Bahar’s little fist landed softly on his shoulder.

— I’ll give you an exam, Professor Evren! — Her fingers tangled in his hair and tugged.

He tilted his head back slightly, and her lips traced his neck, his jawline, his mouth.

— You need to learn to trust me, Evren. — She whispered between kisses. — To let go.

— Let go? — He gave a short laugh. — Never. — His tone was absolute. — But I can take care of you. Bahar, these are marks of pain. — His fingers lightly touched the red bruises. — I’ll turn them into a memory that you belong only to me.

Bahar buried her face in his neck, and he kissed the back of her head, her wet hair clinging to his skin. Water streamed down their bodies, and he just held her close. To him, every bruise on her body felt like a mark of his own guilt for not being there. Evren poured gel into his palm and washed her himself, as if she were a little girl. He dabbed every inch of her body with a towel, dried her hair with a blow-dryer, applied ointment to the bruises, and tucked her into bed.

— Sometimes you’re unbearable. — She whispered as she settled into his arms.

— With you, there’s no other way. — He kissed her deeply, long enough that the pain dissolved into the heat of his hands.

He saw everything, even what she hid behind her smile. The bruises would fade, but the fear of being weak next to him was buried deep inside her. To trust him meant to reveal just how vulnerable she was.

He was a doctor, he knew how to save lives. But when it came to her, he didn’t just want to save — he wanted to protect.

Their love balanced on the edge of pain. He feared letting go, because letting go meant losing her. She feared losing him, because she knew too well how easily everything could shatter.

***

It wasn’t an easy case. Doruk came out of intensive care. He walked without taking his eyes off the tablet, scrolling through the readings. Noting the fluctuations, he frowned deeper.

— Doctor, — a male voice sounded too close.

Kamil jumped up from the little couch and rushed to him. He grabbed Doruk’s wrist as if demanding attention, begging him to tell it to him straight.

— How is she? — his voice broke; he sat down, breathing hard, gulping for air.

Doruk raised his eyes from the tablet.

— Her condition is unstable, — he sighed. — We’re monitoring her.

— But… you’re doing everything, aren’t you? — his voice carried hope and despair, mixed with pain.

— Everything is under control, — Doruk said, lowering his gaze from the screen. — Complications can occur. It’s to be expected.

“Expected.” The word slapped Kamil like a blow. They knew something… they’d been waiting… they were silent… they hadn’t acted.

— And the child… when will they remove it? — he croaked, swallowing convulsively.

Doruk hesitated, again lowering his eyes to the tablet.

— We’re monitoring, — he behaved as if it was awkward to look him in the eye. — Tomorrow Professor Evren Yalkin will perform a full examination; he handles these patients. Your wife may be added to the list.

— A list? — Kamil frowned. — But there was already a transplant eighteen months ago. Isn’t that enough? — He unclenched his fingers and recoiled. — Again?

— Monitoring is necessary, especially now, when— — he trailed off.

— Why hasn’t he come now? — Kamil cut him off. — Why are we wasting precious time? If it’s so serious, why isn’t he coming? — his eyes shone feverishly. — Call him immediately!

Doruk sighed, turned off the tablet, already opening his mouth to answer.

— What’s going on? — a stern, cold voice sounded behind him.

— Why isn’t Professor Evren Yalkin coming? — Kamil’s voice rose, his hands balled into fists. — Why isn’t your doctor Bahar Ozden removing the child? Why are you all stalling? My wife is in there, and she’s dying! — now he shouted.

Doruk glanced at Sert Kaya… and even felt a spark of curiosity about how he would handle an emotional patient.

Sert Kaya stepped closer, his gaze as icy and steady as ever.

— Your distress is understandable, — he said without a single inflection. — But your hysteria won’t help!

Kamil went pale and turned to him sharply.

— You must explain— — he began.

— We are obliged to follow protocol, — Sert cut him off. — Professor Evren Yalkin will be involved when it becomes necessary. Not earlier, not later.

He spoke calmly, evenly, as if discussing train schedules rather than life and death.

— But my wife… — Kamil’s hands fell.

— A doctor does not come because you demand it. Doctors are called according to indications, — Sert snapped. — Right now her condition is under control. You are interfering with our work. Doctor, — he looked to Doruk.

— Yes, — Doruk flinched. — The patient’s condition has been stabilized; monitoring continues. The examination is scheduled for tomorrow, — he reported crisply.

Sert nodded and dismissed him. Doruk slowly turned and walked down the corridor. For Sert Kaya, it was the usual order of things. Kamil clenched his fists until his knuckles went white. He sank onto the couch and froze. His breathing faltered. Thoughts tore him apart.

Stabilized. As planned. No emotions. For them — formal phrases. For him — a cold sentence. He understood one thing — they knew something. They were clearly hiding something. And most of all — they were not saving her.

Kamil’s gaze fell on a black speck on the wall. Nobody was telling him the truth; he feared one thing above all — what if it becomes too late...

***

Evren hadn’t woken this late in a long time. He slowly opened his eyes and immediately shut them again. The soft light of morning sun filtered through the curtain. His lips spread into a smile; he stretched lazily and turned, already ready to bury his face in the gentle curve of her shoulder, to smell her hair. His hand slid across the sheet… empty… cold.

Evren opened his eyes wide and frowned. He sat up in bed and blinked, not understanding anything.

— Bahar? — he called, his voice sleepy, still hoarse.

He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, ran his hands through his hair, rolled his shoulders, listened to the sounds… silence. A shadow of anxiety passed over his face. He got out of bed and went barefoot straight to the bathroom. Still, a faint smile touched his lips. He pushed the door… empty; only his own puzzled reflection met him in the mirror.

Evren went inside, leaned his hands on the sink, lifted his head and looked at his reflection again.

— Damn, — slipped from his lips.

He straightened up sharply. The light languor of sleep evaporated instantly. A wave of anger and irritation rose inside him… how could he have slept through her leaving? He washed quickly, shaved. Evren was already heading to the wardrobe when he froze… he saw her phone on the nightstand… did she forget it?

He stopped and looked around. Her robe hung over the back of the chair… and he smiled, relieved. Bahar was clearly still in the house… she hadn’t gone… hadn’t run away… she hadn’t left him alone in the morning.

His gaze landed on the empty pillow… His eyes softened slightly, but the anger did not disappear. Evren moved decisively to the door, flung it open and left the bedroom.

***

She was already awake. Light slipped through the blinds. Esra’s breathing was ragged. Serhat watched the IV, watched the slow, steady drip of medication. He squeezed her hand, forcing himself to sit and not interfere.

— Papa, — her lips had lost their color but she tried to smile anyway. — Don’t look at me like that, — she asked.

Serhat’s face changed. He tightened his grip on her hand.

— I have to do something, — he whispered, unclenching his fingers.

— Professor, — Doruk stopped him, not allowing him even to stand from the chair.

— I am her father, — Serhat couldn’t hold it in.

— And I am her attending physician, — Doruk retorted. — You will have to trust us, or you will have to step out, — he looked him in the eye.

Serhat glanced at Esra in confusion… step out… leave her… what if something happens to her… and he isn’t there. He looked back at Doruk, realizing that the doctor was giving him the chance to stay in the room.

Serhat slowly rose and stepped to the side. His hands dropped limply. His lips pressed into a thin line. He wanted to scream, yank out the IV, scoop her into his arms and carry her out of this room, out of this hospital, but he had no right… could this really be the end?

He watched Doruk act confidently, issuing orders to the nurse. He saw how the machines steadied their beeps, how Esra’s breathing grew a little quieter, a little calmer.

— Papa, — he didn’t hear his daughter’s voice at first.

He didn’t immediately notice that Doruk and the nurse had already left, that the two of them were alone.

— You know, don’t you? — Esra tried to smile; her hand fell to her belly.

Serhat moved closer, sat on the chair, his palm found her hand and squeezed her fingers.

— What? — he swallowed the lump in his throat.

— That I might not make it, — she whispered, looking at him.

Serhat closed his eyes and shook his head.

— Don’t say that, please, — he whispered, barely audible.

— I have to, — her fingers tightened around his, and he suppressed a groan; with each passing day her strength was waning… the child was taking resources from her… she didn’t have enough to spare, and still she carried her daughter beneath her heart. — I am not afraid for myself, — she took his hand and placed it on her belly, — I’m afraid for her, Papa. For my daughter, for your granddaughter.

— Esra, — his voice broke, — you are not going anywhere, do you hear me. I will not let you!

— Sometimes it’s not for us to decide, — she still managed a smile.

Serhat exhaled; his eyes were red. His breath caught in his chest.

— I want you to promise me that you’ll hold her in your arms if I’m gone, — tears filled her eyes. — I want her to know she has the best grandfather in the world. — She looked into his eyes. — Will you promise me, Papa? Will you hold my daughter? Will you love her the way I do? Give me your word, Papa, — she begged, never taking her eyes off him.

Serhat shook his head, unable to find words; desperation splashed across his face, and his eyes held unshed tears.

— You’ve always been strong, Papa, the strongest, — Esra continued. — I see how hard this is for you, I understand.

Serhat leaned forward and rested his head on her chest. He listened to the heavy, laboring beat of his daughter’s heart, as if a countdown had begun.

— I’d rather die myself, — he exhaled, — than give you up, do you hear me, I won’t give you up! — his nails dug into the skin of his palms from how tightly he clenched his fists.

Esra closed her eyes; her hand slid into his hair. She understood that he was dying with her, every minute, every second he was giving his life away…

***

Did Evren ever imagine his life could change like this? He walked toward the sounds of clattering cups and a whistling kettle. He stopped at the threshold. Bahar was bustling by the stove, stirring something in a pot, cracking eggs into a pan, then moving aside to slice bread.

Uraz held Mert in his arms, watching his mother. Siren was feeding Leyla. Parla, explaining something to Nevra, showed her something on the phone. Umay was the first to notice him; she smiled, though tension flickered in her eyes, and she immediately turned toward Bahar. Evren never took his gaze off Bahar… and suddenly she froze, shivered as if she had felt it, the knife suspended over the cutting board. She turned… their eyes met.

No one even realized how it happened, but the kitchen instantly fell silent. Everyone was watching Evren, and he was watching only Bahar, as he stepped over the threshold and entered the kitchen.

Bahar lowered the knife, smiled. Her glance darted at her family, then returned to Evren. She hesitated just for a heartbeat, then stepped toward him. They met halfway.

— Good morning, — he whispered.

— Good morning, — she rose on tiptoe, her hand resting on his shoulder, her lips brushing his.

With just that one movement, one kiss, she swept away all his anger and irritation. Evren was ready to pull her into his arms, but held himself back. Too many eyes.

— Good morning, — he said loudly now.

— Don’t you dare! — Uraz exploded instantly. — You have no right!

The children flinched. Siren shushed her husband. Parla stayed silent. Nevra switched off the phone. Umay’s brows lifted slightly, then dropped again.

— Don’t you dare tell me what I can or cannot do! — Evren shot back firmly. — I have every right, and I will kiss Bahar! If Timur never did it, that doesn’t mean I won’t. Get used to seeing how a man can love a woman. And it’s normal, natural, to show feelings!

As he spoke, Evren clasped Bahar’s hand tightly, not letting her interfere. Siren pulled Leyla close to her chest. Parla took Mert from Uraz. Nevra rose and moved toward Umay.

— After breakfast I’ll examine you, — Evren turned to Bahar.

Once again his words caused panic in her family — only Uraz boiled over.

— How dare you? — he began, stepping toward him.

Evren let go of Bahar’s hand and stepped toward Uraz.

— When I say examination, — he came closer, — I mean examination.

— Evren, — Bahar’s hand came down on his shoulder.

— Yesterday in the ER, the patient’s husband— — Evren spoke quietly, eyes locked on Uraz. — Her back is covered in bruises. They need to be treated so Bahar can endure if she has to be in surgery! I’ll say it once; I won’t explain again, nor do I have to. You’ll have to get used to my presence, Aziz Uraz.

— You speak of “examination,” of care, — Uraz’s voice trembled, — but what if she can’t endure it? Then what? Will you take responsibility for her death?

Evren stepped closer still.

— I will not step away from Bahar, — his voice was hard.

— You are not God, you cannot control everything, — Uraz raised his voice.

— I am her doctor and her man, — Evren’s tone turned dry, sharp. — I know her body will endure. And I know she will endure if I’m beside her. Control is not omnipotence! — Evren went on. — Control is attention. It’s what I do every day. I will not let Bahar wear herself out, — his voice softened, quieted. — You see a mother, but I see a woman who comes home from the hospital every day on the edge of exhaustion.

Bahar exhaled, unable to hide the trembling in her hands, and clasped them tightly.

— You didn’t see how she collapsed from fatigue all those months without you, — Uraz’s voice cracked. — Where was your control then? Your care? What guarantee do we have you won’t leave again tomorrow? You want to stay with her because you’re afraid of being alone.

Evren lowered his eyes for a moment.

— Uraz, — Bahar immediately cut in, awkwardly reminding that it was partly her fault Evren had left.

Evren turned to Bahar, simply looked at her, shook his head, then faced Uraz again.

— I left. I made a mistake, — his voice dropped even quieter; he confessed it looking him straight in the eyes. — I may make mistakes again, but I will make them by her side. You talk about family. I’m talking about her health.

— And if the price of your mistake is her life? — Uraz breathed heavily, fists clenched.

Silence fell in the kitchen. Into that silence Yusuf walked in, not understanding what had just happened. Bahar’s gaze moved from one to the other. She saw her son’s fear of losing her. She saw Evren’s readiness to stand by her no matter what. She sighed, and despite Evren’s silent plea not to interfere, she stepped between them. One hand on her son’s shoulder, the other resting on Evren’s arm.

— You’re both saying the same thing, — she spoke softly. — You both want to protect me, just in different ways.

Bahar turned to her son.

— Uraz, you fear for my life, and I understand that, — she sighed heavily.

Then she turned to Evren.

— And you want to take responsibility on yourself, and I see that, — she shook her head.

Her eyes swept across all her family.

— I am not only a mother, and not only a woman. I am a doctor. And my life will always be tied to risk. But I know this for certain: deciding who stands by me, and what I do, is mine alone.

She slowly lowered her hands, as if drawing a boundary, and smiled, tired yet warm. Tears flickered in her eyes, but she quickly fought them back.

— Enough arguing, breakfast is getting cold, — she looked at Yusuf, as if he were her last hope, and he instantly moved to her side.

Bahar glanced at the bread, and Yusuf understood her look without a word. He came up and started slicing it. Siren sat Leyla in a high chair, took Mert from Parla. Evren and Uraz still stared at each other, burning each other with their eyes. Bahar knew this was not the end — only a temporary truce for everyone.

***

He glanced at the wall clock, then checked the time against his wristwatch. Reha sat on the bed flipping through a medical journal. His face remained calm, but there was a spark in his eyes.

There was a knock at the door, and Ferdi entered the room, pushing a wheelchair in front of him.

— Well then, Professor Reha, let’s go. — He came closer.

— More of your procedures? — Reha threw off the blanket and swung his legs off the bed. — They tire me more than anything else.

— I promise, you’ll live, — Ferdi smirked.

— What do you mean, you’ll live? — Gulcicek’s voice grew sharp. — Where are you taking him? — She stood up at once, hands on her hips. — He already walks around the room on his own. Why the wheelchair? — she didn’t understand.

— Everything is under control, everything according to protocol, — Ferdi replied confidently.

— Then maybe I’ll walk there myself? — Reha had already settled into the chair.

— Don’t argue, — Ferdi said firmly. — This is how it’s supposed to be.

Gulcicek stood beside her husband, seated in the chair.

— Fine, I’ll go with you. — She touched his shoulder, then quickly withdrew her hand.

— No, no, — Ferdi shook his head. — Better wait here. According to the new protocols, it’s not allowed.

— Yes, my dear, don’t worry, — Reha squeezed his wife’s hand, lifted it to his lips, and kissed it.

She frowned.

— So this is what it’s come to. Instead of a honeymoon, I get orderlies wheeling me around, — Reha muttered.

Gulcicek flushed and sank into a chair.

— Professor, you have a date with the physiotherapist, — Ferdi smiled.

Reha waved dismissively but said nothing. Gulcicek barely held back a laugh. Ferdi wheeled Reha out of the room and closed the door behind them. Gulcicek pressed her hand to her chest, feeling her heart racing. A strange unease spread through her as her eyes darted to the door, her breath quickened…

***

Bahar wiped her hands on the towel and caught herself holding her breath, just from sensing his presence nearby. She watched as Evren closed the cupboard door. It was as if neither of them remembered there was a dishwasher in the kitchen, and Yusuf never even tried to remind them. He enjoyed being part of the process himself. And he liked Evren more this way — it was easier, when Evren looked at him kindly, without reproach or lofty expectations. Umay hovered nearby, helping.

Evren and Bahar exchanged glances, smiling, as though they were speaking without words. Umay nudged Yusuf lightly with her elbow, tilting her head toward their mother and Evren. She couldn’t help but smile herself. It was so pleasant, watching this moment of kitchen harmony, while Uraz — still showing his disapproval — and Siren went upstairs with the children.

— Come, — Evren clasped Bahar’s hand.

His fingers pressed into her skin just a little harder, as if he was afraid to let go. Bahar glanced back at the children. Yusuf smiled and turned toward the window. Umay took a glass and turned on the tap. They tried not to look at them. Bahar nodded, and together they left the kitchen, climbed the stairs. Time rushed forward relentlessly, and yet they didn’t hurry.

Evren closed the door behind them. He fell silent for a moment, as though searching for the right words.

— Sit down. — He guided her toward the bed.

She bit her lip to keep from saying something unnecessary. Bahar rolled her eyes slightly, realizing her heart was pounding so hard she couldn’t hear its rhythm anymore. These “check-ups” of his… soon they would surely become a habit, and she didn’t yet know how to deal with it.

— You’re not going to give me a full exam, Evren? — she sat down on the bed. — We’ll be late for work, — she reminded him. — Our patients are waiting.

He leaned in so close that his breath brushed her cheek.

— That’s why I need to make sure you can handle the whole day, — he sat down beside her.

— Evren? — she looked at him warily.

— Yesterday afternoon you didn’t even think about treating the bruises, you didn’t ask anyone for help, — he frowned, reaching for the tube of ointment on the nightstand. — Want me to help? — his eyes went to her home shirt.

Bahar raised her brows slightly, almost about to say yes — but then quickly unbuttoned her shirt herself. She tossed it on the chair and turned her back to him.

The moment Evren saw the already darkened bruises, his expression changed. His lips pressed into a thin line. Grinding his teeth, he squeezed ointment into his palm and began to apply it gently to her skin. His fingers moved slowly, tenderly.

— My mind was occupied with other things, — she tried to sound calm, but couldn’t hide the tremor in her voice.

How could he stay so calm, touching her skin like this, looking at her… being this close. She turned her head, lifted her gaze and met his eyes.

— I want, — he whispered, and her eyes widened, — for you to lean on me, to tell me what’s happening with you, Bahar.

Bahar opened her mouth to protest, but his lips touched hers. He kissed her softly, carefully, and was about to pull away, but her hand slid to the back of his neck, holding him, refusing to let him go… She had already forgotten that only five minutes ago she’d been thinking about being late.

— You need strength, Bahar, — his voice had taken on a doctor’s tone. — I’ll give you that strength. I’ll erase these bruises.

— You’re not going to turn into a doctor in bed, Evren, — she reacted instantly, exhaling against his lips, pulling back.

Bahar slowly reclined on the bed, looked up at him. Evren smirked, his eyes flashing. Tossing the tube back onto the nightstand, he immediately followed her down, gently pressing her into the mattress.

— I will, — he said stubbornly. — And I’ll run an ultrasound, and you’ll do the tests.

His lips brushed her neck.

— I won’t, — she wrapped her arms around him. — If I tell you it doesn’t hurt — will you believe me? — she whispered, kissing him.

— Today you had breakfast again, — he murmured between kisses, letting her pull his T-shirt off, — tomorrow I can draw your blood right here at home, — he caressed her body, unable to turn off the doctor in himself.

— You sound like, — she helped him take off the rest of her clothes, — you want to turn our house into a pharmacy and move into it.

— No, — his lips brushed her shoulder, — only into your life.

Her laughter melted into a moan. And in this closeness there were no longer any boundaries between “examination” and “love”…

***

He couldn’t bring himself to start examining the patients. Serhat stood by the window in the doctors’ room, his hands sunk deep in his pockets, his gaze fixed, unmoving. He had just listened to Esra’s questions about death, and everything inside him clenched — he didn’t know what to do next.

Rengin walked down the corridor, a folder in her hands. The moment she saw him, her step faltered. She instantly noticed he wasn’t himself.

— You’re not with the patients? — she asked softly, coming closer.

Serhat slowly shifted his gaze, focused on her, but Rengin could tell he wasn’t really seeing her — he was looking straight through her.

— Esra asked me… what if she dies, — his voice trembled. — I couldn’t find the words. Inside… everything collapsed, — he admitted.

Rengin froze. She slowly set the folder on the table and stepped closer.

— You’re her father, — she said. — You’re not supposed to have all the answers.

— But what if she’s right? — he flinched. — What if she leaves? How do I explain to her child that I’m still here? — fear, pain, confusion flickered in his eyes.

She met his gaze, holding it steadily, intently.

— You don’t explain with words, — Rengin said quietly. — You explain by being there. Every day.

They looked into each other’s eyes.

— You know how to find the thing that holds me together, — he said with the faintest smile.

— I just know what it’s like to be left alone, with a child, — she answered, her voice unsteady.

They fell silent, standing too close. His hand clenched, as if he wanted to reach for her, but didn’t dare.

Rengin lowered her eyes, no longer able to deny that something was beginning to grow between them — in their words, their breath, their glances…

***

On the tangled sheets, their breathing slowly evened out. Bahar rested her head on Evren’s shoulder, her fingers lazily tracing circles across his chest.

— And still, — she broke the silence first, — you’re a doctor even in bed.

Evren smirked, kissed her temple.

— And you — impossibly stubborn, — he whispered.

Bahar lifted herself, looked at him.

— Stubbornness, professor, is your prerogative, — she remarked.

Evren raised his hand, his fingers brushing a strand of her hair.

— I could stay like this forever, — he drawled lazily, letting her hair slip through his fingers.

— Then you’ll sleep through all the surgeries, professor, — she teased, nudging him lightly with her elbow.

Evren instantly pulled her into his arms, kissed her hard. Bahar answered fiercely, cupping his face as if afraid he might slip away.

— Enough, enough! — she suddenly broke off, jumped from the bed. — Up you get! — she tossed over her shoulder before darting into the shower.

— Need help? — Evren called out.

— Don’t you dare! — came her muffled voice from behind the door.

Evren laughed, shook his head. By the time he made his way to the bathroom, she was already slipping out, wrapped in a towel, leaving the space for him. Bahar darted to the wardrobe, smiling to herself at his grumbling, bustling as she dressed.

Throwing open the closet, she eyed the hangers of his shirts, pulled out a pair of trousers. She tried to put something together, but realized quickly there wasn’t much choice.

— Evren, — she called, hearing the water shut off. — You hardly have anything to choose from.

— Choose from what? — he entered the dressing room, toweling his hair.

— I don’t like that you have so few clothes, — she still tried to pair trousers with a shirt.

— I get by, — Evren scoffed, rolling his eyes.

— No, — Bahar said firmly, — something has to be done about this. — She looked at him. — This needs to be fixed.

He tossed the towel onto a chair. Bahar’s brow arched. She followed the towel’s flight with her eyes and missed the moment he lazily reached for her and pulled her into his arms.

— We’ll fix it, — he said, eyes fixed on her lips. — I can always walk around in a towel.

Her fist tapped his shoulder. She pushed at him slightly.

— Don’t joke, — she scolded, shoving trousers into his hands. — You’ve got three shirts, a few T-shirts.

— I’m a doctor, not a model, — Evren shrugged, pulling on the trousers. — That’s plenty for me.

— Still, — she buttoned her blouse, — you’re my man. And I don’t like this.

— And what do you suggest? — he pulled on a T-shirt.

— We’ll go shopping, — she smiled, sliding open a drawer for jewelry.

— That sounds like punishment, — he pretended to grumble.

Bahar had already chosen earrings, slipped on rings — then froze. Her eyes fell on a small box. She quickly pushed it farther back, almost afraid he’d see it. Her fingers trembled; she even picked it up for a second, then hid it again, shoving the drawer closed as she fastened her earrings.

— This is life, — she muttered under her breath, frowning slightly.

They bumped into each other as she tried to slip past toward the mirror. Bahar nearly stumbled, but Evren caught her, pulling her close.

— Careful, — his low voice sent a shiver racing down her skin.

— Thank you, — Bahar smiled, steadying herself with her hands on his shoulders.

— Why are you in such a rush? — he wasn’t ready to let her go.

— I’m going with Yusuf, — she replied calmly, freeing herself.

Evren froze, frowning.

— With Yusuf? Why not with me? — the displeasure was obvious in his voice.

Bahar sighed, met his eyes — as if gathering courage before speaking.

— Because you’re going to Naz, — she reminded him, smoothing her hair.

— Cem, — he corrected through gritted teeth, barely containing himself.

— It won’t solve itself, Evren, — Bahar said, picking up her bag. — I’ll see you at the hospital.

She almost left, then paused in the doorway, turned back, kissed him quickly. Before he could say anything, she slipped away.

Evren stood in the middle of the bedroom, his shirt half-buttoned, feeling how the warmth of the morning had turned into cold irritation.

***

Feeling his irritation grow with every passing minute, Uraz headed toward the doctors’ lounge, tablet in hand. He didn’t immediately notice Sert Kaya coming toward him. As if by chance, Sert stopped right in front of him.

— I see you’re alone today, Dr. Aziz Uraz Yavuzoglu, — he said in a dry voice, and Uraz adjusted the collar of his coat. — Dr. Bahar Ozden, — Sert even pretended to look over his shoulder, — Professor Evren Yalkin hasn’t arrived yet? — he gave a short laugh. — Strange. The situation is urgent, and yet they’re always somewhere together.

Uraz flushed, clenched his teeth.

— Don’t talk about my mother like that! — he snapped. — Not in that tone!

— In what tone, then? — Sert almost smirked, eyeing him with contempt. — Professional? — he asked. — Or the one you’re used to? — he paused deliberately, making Uraz tense. — Domestic?

Uraz’s fist tightened, his other hand gripping the tablet so hard his knuckles turned white.

— Amusing, — Sert crossed his arms over his chest. — You refused an internship in Europe because you couldn’t leave her? — he chuckled. — And then you filed a complaint against her! Against your own mother. — He pressed the words down on him. — You were ready to make her look like a victim of the system. All for what?

— Enough! — Uraz nearly shouted.

— These are facts! — Sert cut him off sharply. — Sometimes facts sound louder than shouting.

Uraz stepped closer, mouth open to retort — but stopped short when he noticed someone. The patient’s husband, Kamil, stood by the wall, listening closely. Realizing Kamil was looking at him, Uraz faltered as the man came closer.

— Dr. Ozden… Professor Yalkin, — Kamil’s words stumbled. — They haven’t arrived yet?

— Apparently they have, — Sert raised a brow slightly, almost apologetically, — more important matters. You see, — he cast a glance at Uraz, — sometimes family ties prove stronger than professional duty.

Kamil paled, staring at Uraz. Uraz averted his eyes, unable to find words — they stuck in his throat. Sert calmly adjusted his cuff and walked away. As he left, he left behind a heavy silence, ringing and impossible to smother.

***

Evren killed the engine and pulled off his helmet. Resting the bike on its stand, he swung off and exhaled. He’d come here several times before. Perhaps seeking comfort, perhaps trying to forget — but now it had all turned against him.

He looked at Naz’s restaurant, hesitant to step inside. He wasn’t looking for entertainment… back then he had only been trying to stay afloat, to keep from breaking. He hadn’t thought their conversations would give Naz hope, make her dream, imagine something.

Evren tried to remember if he had ever once felt peace coming here, but couldn’t find an answer. Restlessness had always followed him — and he felt it now, too, as though he didn’t belong here. Still, rolling his shoulders, he headed decisively for the entrance.

Naz spotted him the moment he walked in. Her expression changed, a wide smile broke across her face, and she came straight to him.

— Evren? — she gestured for him to follow her to a table.

He hesitated, looked at her, then nodded. Naz immediately ordered coffee, deciding for him before he could even refuse. Odd, he hadn’t noticed it before — how she always acted this way, ahead of him, never asking, always charging forward, thinking she had it all figured out. But it wasn’t care. For the first time, he saw her differently.

— I’m glad you came, — she began, her hand resting on the table, dangerously close to his.

Evren raised his brows slightly, pulled his hands back, leaned into the seat, putting more distance between them, as if it weren’t enough that she was already sitting across from him.

— You’ve changed, — she still smiled, lifting the cup of coffee. — Why did you come, Evren? — she asked bluntly, taking a sip.

— There never was and never will be anything between us, — he answered, meeting her eyes. — I’m with Bahar.

Naz chuckled, setting the cup back onto its saucer.

— With Bahar? — she repeated, leaning back in her chair. — For how long this time? How long will your union last, Evren? A year? Two? She has a family, children, grandchildren. To them, you’re an outsider. A stranger. In the end, you’ll be alone, Evren. — She leaned forward. — She won’t give you a child! With me, you could have had everything!

— I never promised you anything! — his reply was sharp, almost too sharp. — You invented it all yourself!

— You gave me hope! You let me believe! — she shot back defiantly. — And now what? You come here, look me in the eyes, and tell me you’re with Bahar — so I should what? Believe you? I don’t believe in you two, Evren! It didn’t work once, it won’t work now!

Evren clenched his teeth, fists tightening beneath the table.

— Don’t you dare, — he leaned toward her, his gaze sharp, piercing. — This isn’t your concern, — he spoke quietly, and his voice made her uneasy.

— But you’re here, Evren! — her voice shook. — You’re sitting in my restaurant, at my table!

— I came because of Cem, — Evren exhaled, struggling to control himself.

Naz laughed, shaking her head, her eyes flashing.

— Came to apologize for him? — she asked with irony.

— I came to ask, — Evren didn’t look away. — As one person to another. He worked for you; please write a recommendation for him. Cem should have a chance.

— Cem, Bahar, — Naz’s fingers tapped nervously on the table. — Anyone but me, Evren?!

— You shouldn’t stand between me and Bahar, Naz, — Evren said through his teeth. — I won’t allow it! — He rose slowly from the table.

— You’ll come back again, Evren, when she pushes you away one more time! — Her lips trembled as she stood up too. — Who will be there for you then?

— I have no reason to leave her! — Evren looked at her with a cold stare, then turned and headed for the exit.

— Evren, — there was a ring of hope in her voice.

Naz dashed after him. Catching up, her fingers closed around his wrist. Evren stopped and looked at her hand. One by one, decisively, he spread her fingers apart and stepped back.

— You gave me signs, — her voice turned plaintive, — you let me think that… — she searched his eyes, — that we could have a family, that I could give you a child, — she did not look away, waiting for a reaction. — We would have clarity, order, — she pressed on. — With Bahar you’ll never have that! It won’t work.

— Don’t you dare decide things for others, Naz! — he barely kept the fury choking him in check. — This is not your business!

Evren saw clearly how she played with words, trying to pull him into feeling. Naz wanted to provoke him, to make herself believe again, to give herself hope.

— You… can’t just walk away. We could have… — she stepped toward him, closing the gap; her hand touched him.

Evren looked at her hand, then into her eyes. He removed her hand and stepped back, widening the space between them. He chewed his jaw, stared at her, then slowly turned.

— We couldn’t. Never! — he said very distinctly and opened the door.

— Evren… I was there when there was no one else, — she clung to that ghost of hope. — Doesn’t that mean anything?

— I’m grateful to you for that, and I appreciate Cem, — he looked into her eyes, — but I have a family. There’s a woman I live for, — he turned away from her.

Naz shut her eyes as if she could not bear to see or hear or admit she had lost. Nothing remained; she could not even hope for friendship.

— Fine, — her voice broke; she opened her eyes and watched his back. — I’ll write the recommendation.

Evren turned, glanced at her sidelong, and nodded. He left, leaving her alone in the restaurant. The coffee he hadn’t touched sat on the table.

Naz watched the door he had walked through, still hoping he would return. She still smelled his cologne, but it faded with each breath, as if nothing would remain of Evren. She had lost. All her skill in manipulation, every rehearsed line now felt like a child’s game. He hadn’t responded. Evren stayed composed, as if indifferent to what she felt.

Naz went to the bar and asked the bartender for paper and a pen. She would do what he asked — she would write him a recommendation. Never before had she felt such shame, burning inside her. She formed letters that shook with the pen in her hand. Shame and rage consumed her. Evren had gone, not out of spite or fear — he had gone for good. She wrote uneven letters; every word felt like confessing defeat.

— Recommendation, — she whispered, as if mocking herself. — For you, for your Cem.

The pen’s tip scratched on the paper; she winced but kept writing. “Responsible. Hardworking. Has experience…” — the standard phrases, dry and cold. For a moment her lips curved in a bitter smile.

— You won’t even be able to hate me, Evren, — she whispered. — You simply put a period.

She paused, lifted her head, and met her reflection in the mirror — the look of a woman who had lost. Naz bent over and made a broad signature. She folded the sheet and stood.

Outside she saw him by his motorcycle. Evren looked into the distance, not at her restaurant or its door, as if he didn’t pity her… and he didn’t expect anything. He only needed the recommendation — that folded sheet she pressed to her chest.

Naz almost tore it, almost crumpled it… then stopped, realizing Evren would have ridden off and said nothing; he would have solved Cem’s future another way.

— Here, — Naz handed him the folded paper. — Everything you wanted.

Evren took it and nodded. He didn’t let their fingers touch; he managed to avoid contact.

— Thank you, — his tone was calm.

She watched him put on his helmet and swing onto the bike. He moved with cold decisiveness, as if he didn’t want to stay another minute. Evren didn’t look at her… not out of avoidance, but because he simply didn’t want to.

— We wouldn’t have worked, — he suddenly looked at her, — I have always loved only Bahar, — he admitted. — You knew that. I didn’t want to hurt you, I’m sorry.

— I believed I could cure you of that love, — she confessed bitterly.

Evren smiled; his eyes flashed with a soft inner warmth at the thought of Bahar and his love for her.

— That’s my diagnosis, — he started the engine. — It’s incurable!

He eased the bike off the curb and merged into the flow of traffic. Naz was left standing alone. Her chest felt hollow and bitter. She understood this was no pause, no possibility of friendship later — this was the real end. Her lips trembled; tears of disappointment welled in her eyes. She had just heard a medical verdict for herself and for him — a diagnosis: incurable. All her struggle, every effort had been in vain.

Naz straightened herself, turned, and walked back into the restaurant.

***

It wasn’t a restaurant, of course, but Gulcicek tried to spoil her husband however she could. She cooked for him early in the morning and brought the food still warm. She cherished the fact that she could do this… and now all her efforts might be in vain. Reha had been taken for procedures and hadn’t been brought back yet.

She straightened the blanket on his bed — even though he wasn’t there, his pillow still carried the imprint of his head. The door opened quietly; she turned, but it was Doruk who stepped in. He stopped, his gaze sliding over the empty bed.

— Where is Professor Reha? — he asked.

— At the procedures, — Gulcicek sat down on a chair.

Doruk switched on his tablet, scanning the data.

— Strange, — he muttered aloud without thinking. — I checked the procedure schedule… — his brows furrowed. — Professor Reha isn’t listed there.

Gulcicek blinked, then shot up from her chair.

— Not listed? — she moved toward him. — What do you mean not listed? Where is my husband, then? — her fingers clutched at Doruk’s hands.

Doruk froze, realizing he had said too much.

— I… I don’t know, — he stammered, blinking nervously. — He should have been in the ward. Maybe he was… — he faltered. — I’ll find out, — he blurted more clearly.

Gulcicek lunged at him, almost colliding with him.

— You don’t know?! — she shook him. — How can you not know where my husband is?!

Doruk recoiled, stunned, taking a step back.

— I… I’ll check right now…

But Gulcicek no longer heard him. Panic flashed in her eyes; clutching her chest, she shoved him aside and rushed out of the room, knocking everything in her path…