The air felt stifling. Little Leyla reached up and sneaked his glasses right off his head. He stood there, holding his tongue, as Bahar rinsed the greens, flicked the water into the sink, then turned her back and stepped into the depth of the kitchen — completely ignoring him, showing no reaction to his presence.

– Professor, please don’t let her put everything in her mouth, – Siren gently interrupted.

– Sunbeam, – Evren freed the glasses from the child’s tiny fingers. – Let’s go to grandma, – he replied in a soft voice.

Half a year ago, it would have been easy to invite him in. Now, he walked in himself, aware that no one would so casually welcome him—no one would trust the most precious thing they had anymore: Bahar. He realized too late that she had always been part of a family, that family mattered deeply to her… and now it was his job to earn his place in it. Evren suddenly understood that he desperately wanted to be part of her family.

Uraz muttered something behind him, and Siren responded softly. Evren took it in without irritation—he knew it was his own fault that her children had behaved cautiously around him. At Gulçiçek and Reha’s wedding, they had been more open, but that felt like another life. Now, everything was different.

Bahar didn’t open the door or greet him at the threshold. Her glance slid over him as she brought hot food to the table, then she walked away.

A simple look—and he couldn’t read her emotions. Strange: he had always felt her before, but now she shielded herself from him. And he could blame no one but himself. Uraz helped seat Mert in the high chair, then approached Evren. Reluctantly, he handed over Mert and Leyla, and Evren took the documents in both hands, needing something to hold.

He forced himself not to glance at the staircase: memories of climbing it, kissing, descending silently—they felt unreal. He shook his head as if to clear the fog—maybe it had all been a dream. Maybe she hadn’t actually guided him upstairs at all. Maybe he’d simply wanted it so much that he convinced himself it was real. Bahar could not have behaved like this if she remembered that night. She would have given something away—just one gesture. But this new Bahar—mostly unfamiliar—was unreadable.

Nevra came down and sat in her seat. Uraz and Siren sat beside the children. Parla and Yusuf entered together, whispering to one another. Yusuf?! Evren’s chest tightened. For the first time since stepping into this house, a bitter unease settled in his gut: who was this guy, freely walking through Bahar’s home? They’d never discussed his internship or studies. And Bahar treated him so normally—as if she’d known him forever.

Bahar pointed to a chair for Yusuf, and he sat there, still watching Evren. Everyone had taken their seats except Bahar, Evren, and Umay—Umay was nowhere to be seen.

Bahar continued ignoring him, as if she were elsewhere—not refusing everyone, but intentionally giving him the cold shoulder while still tending to others.

– Evren, – he heard his name spoken simultaneously by Umay and Bahar—and he flinched slightly.

At long last she had called him… and when he heard her voice, he wasn’t sure who had spoken first. Both she and Umay approached from opposite sides and pointed to the same chair—right across from her, opposite to where Bahar would sit. And when he sat, Bahar took the head of the table as everyone settled.

Dinner began in silence. Nevra and Evren didn’t speak. Bahar offered a phrase now and then—but never toward him. Not once did she ask why he was here, or why he sat at their table. Evren suddenly felt like a guest in this place. He could have been family. He could have claimed a place. Instead, because he misplaced his patience, everyone moved forward without him. They’d managed without him—and without Timur. They had survived.

Meanwhile, his phone kept pinging with notifications, vibrating slightly on the table. Who was texting her? Had she met someone and he just didn’t know? Bahar lifted it occasionally, studied the screen—then ignored it or swiped it away.

Evren couldn’t eat, though his hunger felt gnawing. A bite or two, barely swallowed, glass of water. He wanted nothing more than to pull her aside, to stand closer, to look into her eyes and know: that night was real, she remembered it, it hadn’t been a dream. His Bahar wouldn’t behave like this—she would show a crack in her armor. But this quiet, foreign version of Bahar offered nothing.

Night had been their beacon—it should have left a mark. She would not have led him to the bedroom asking for love, only to behave like a stranger now. He needed to breach the wall she built between them. He wriggled on the chair thinking why he ever let her have to ask—to save him. He caught her eye across the table—she’d placed him on a pedestal, then so easily knocked him off.

He offered to help clear the table. She brushed him off politely, and he stood, stepping away so as not to be in the way. Then they all had tea. Bahar ate a bit, but he had no appetite. He waited patiently for tea to finish. He hoped they would disperse soon. But they didn’t. Not until finally, she left for the kitchen.

Evren grabbed the documents and nearly collided with Yusuf at the doorway—as if Yusuf blocked him on purpose. He shot the younger man a fierce glance and walked around him.

Inside the kitchen, he paused. The sound of running water didn’t drown out voices in the living room—but no one interrupted their solitude. For the first time that evening, they were alone.

She washed dishes without looking at him. Evren placed the documents on the counter, opened the cupboard, took out a towel—and simply stood next to her. She glanced sideways as she washed. He began drying plates, one by one—and a soft smile flickered on his lips, like before. They used to do everything together—cook, clear the table, drink coffee.

When she finished, she dried her hands. She still didn’t speak, but the phone on the small table by the aquarium continued to sound with notifications—many people sought her attention. But the only attention he wanted was hers. Bahar sat, picked up the phone. Evren turned with the final cup in hand, drying it.

She unlocked the phone and frowned at the screen. Then she walked around the counter and sat on the small couch. She pushed the folder aside—his work forgotten. She had ignored everything tied to him, but she let him help. Evren smiled. He found her favorite mugs, turned on the coffee machine, scooped coffee. He knew she was quietly watching—but still silent.

For the first time in so long, they were together in the same room. And he looked at her—not knowing what to do.

But he did something. He poured coffee, set it beside her, brought a bowl of cookies, and sat next to her.

– What are you doing, Evren? – her voice broke through like a gentle chord.

He felt the vibration inside when she spoke. She looked at him. She didn’t stand or walk away. She accepted the coffee he made, the gesture.

– Drinking coffee, – he said, eyes fixed on her. Her eyebrows lifted slightly.

How long had it been—just like this, side by side, at ease. At home near each other, kids and grandkids liv¬ing down the hall. Her family... for now, hers alone. And he smiled, though his eyes were still sad.

Her phone beeped again. She glanced down. Evren clenched his jaw. That was the last straw. He fought to stay composed, unsure why. Then he spoke, finally:

– I need you, Bahar, – he said gently, causing her to startle and lift her gaze from the screen.

She reacted—though subtly. That look of sorrow… he saw it. And he felt braver.

– We have one chance, – he continued, reading the tiny changes in her face. – The patient has adhesions. I can’t do it without you—because only you know how to save her.

Bahar held his gaze. He spoke of the patient—and of them, too. She inhaled, and he mirrored it. She exhaled—and he exhaled. They breathed together in the hush. Voices drifted from the living room—but they belonged there. The home lived with everyone. And he felt its rhythm. Warmth found him at last.

– I haven’t come to persuade you, – he whispered, eyes not leaving her lips. – I came to say: I won’t do it without you. Not because I can’t manage—but because she can survive if we do it together.

Bahar listened. Didn’t turn away. Didn’t pick up the phone again. She looked into his eyes. Then she took a sip of coffee—although it wasn’t a terrace scene, they spoke again. They tried.

– Alya is my patient, – Evren said, pushing the folder toward her. The one she had set aside. – If we slip up—even anesthesia could kill her.

Bahar looked solemn. She didn’t remember such a patient. Maybe she had emerged while she was occupied with funerals… with Esre.

– I have a patient too, Evren, – she finally spoke. – A difficult case. One twin isn’t getting enough nutrition—but he’s healthy. The other has a serious condition and must be removed, – she spoke almost mechanically, as if resigned to the course of the surgery. – The patient has heart problems and the risk is extremely high. She may not survive the operation.

– Heart condition? – Evren took a slow sip of coffee.

Bahar shook her head.

– If she survives the surgery, carries and gives birth, then we can start looking for a donor. But her father says it’s complicated… – she sighed.

– Why wait so long? – Evren asked. – The department is open now—I can register her in the database; she’ll be on the waitlist.

Bahar slowly placed her cup on the table and turned toward him.

– The department? Database? – she looked puzzled. – What are you talking about, Evren?

God, how beautiful she looked. His breath caught. His heart beat faster. Her hairband looked so simple… he wanted to reach out, remove it gently, let her hair fall on her shoulders, lean in and breathe her in.

– The transplant department opened in the hospital.

Bahar flinched as if inches from him. Now she felt his nearness—the scent of his cologne, the heat of his presence. She moved away—but he covered her hand with his palm, gently stopping her. He wouldn’t let the distance grow.

– I want to meet your patient, – he said, lightly squeezing her hand. – We can manage her case together—just like mine.

Bahar blushed, clearly caught off guard. Yet slowly he smiled, though he held it in. To earn her trust again—or for the first time—he would need all his patience.

– Alya is 31, suffering from multiple organ failure due to a severe systemic inflammatory response following an autoimmune flare, – Evren spoke steadily, his fingertip gently stroking her hand, preventing her from pulling away or averting her gaze. – She has deep endometriosis and extensive adhesions. The risk of bleeding during a double transplant is high.

Bahar’s face grew serious. She absorbed every word, silent but attentive. Quietly, Uraz peeked into the kitchen, then Siren appeared, gripping his elbow. Behind them, Yusuf stood still. They all paused, capturing every medical detail as if drawn in.

– The adhesions are dense. If any tears, she could bleed out before even the liver incision. I won’t operate without you, Bahar, – he paused, never breaking contact with her hand—her only allowance. – Alya wants to preserve everything possible, even if she never gives birth. I promised her that, – he sighed. – And so did Jennifer. But I know you won’t let them remove what can stay.

– What about Jennifer? – Bahar leaned closer.

That name stirred unease. Jennifer meant America—but here he was, standing before her, discussing a transplant department. Apart from the medical terms, nothing else made sense. Why the “database”?

– Double transplant? – Uraz finally spoke up. – Count me in on the team, please.

– I want to help, too, – Siren quickly added. – Professor, if you need assistance, I’m ready—any role.

Yusuf fidgeted, searching for a pen and notebook to jot down everything.

Evren gazed at Bahar:

– I came to ask as a physician—to a physician, – he made eye contact, ignoring everyone else. He sensed that once her family took an interest in him professionally, they'd draw in closer—but now, all that mattered was how Bahar saw him. Even as a doctor. – You never abandon women in crisis. We need you. Alya needs you. Jennifer needs you.

– Mom—you matter to us all, – Umay entered with an apple in hand.

Reluctantly, Evren withdrew his hand. He realized everyone had gathered in the kitchen except for the little ones—they must have gone to the nanny. Too bad: he would have gladly held them. But he still had time. He felt her tremble when she leaned just slightly toward him. Everything else could wait—this was his purpose. Together, he was ready for surgery, ready to fly, fall or succeed—if only they were a team.

– The committee approved the operation. Logistics are arranged. Jennifer flies tomorrow morning with Alya, – he took a sip of coffee.

– The patient is coming from the U.S.? – Bahar frowned. – In her condition? Evren… – she stood up from the sofa. – She won’t survive the journey. How could you let this happen? – she turned to him.

All eyes focused on him. Only Umay watched with a mix of curiosity and concern, leaning against the fridge, biting into her apple.

– Double transplant, – Yusuf whispered, eyes bright as flame. He looked at Evren as though he were witnessing a miracle.

– If everything goes well—and I truly believe it will—, – Evren placed his empty cup on the table. – We’ll receive accreditation. The department will gain extra funding from the foundation. We can help Esre too—give her a chance to carry and give birth, Bahar. – He looked only at her. – We’ll find her a heart.

Yusuf’s eyes widened further. He trembled with anticipation, biting his lower lip to hold himself back from questions. He dismissed his anxiety about living in Bahar’s home. Yes—he belonged here. He finally understood what Bahar had meant: in this house lived many doctors, and now they spoke of real medical cases. He wanted Evren to be his teacher—his only teacher.

Bahar moved to the table, placing her hands on the surface and leaning toward Evren:

– Alya will die mid-flight, Evren. What are you talking about? – Her voice lowered.

Evren gently rose, leaning on the table, coming so close their foreheads nearly touched:

– Capsule, – he said softly, – the donor cardio-hepatic complex with a matching HLA profile is already en route to Perran. Bahar—your word? They looked into each other’s eyes across the kitchen table.

– Bahar— – Siren nudged, prompting her.

– Mama, – Uraz scratched his cheek nervously.

All seemed to hold their breath, waiting for her answer.

– So you’re staying at the hospital? – Bahar suddenly understood. – A whole department was opened for you—and Rengin approved this? – her astonishment was clear.

The group let out a faint murmur of disappointment—not what they wanted to hear.

– So it means you’re not leaving, Mom, – Umay said, continuing her apple. – You’re staying in Istanbul.

Bahar heard her daughter’s words—but only through the fog. She searched Evren’s eyes and face. Only now did she notice the dark circles beneath his eyes, the stubble—he had not shaved for days. That evening he’d been clean-shaven—otherwise he’d have scratched her. So he stayed. He did not leave. One eyebrow lifted slightly; the other remained furrowed. She pulled out a chair and sat opposite him. He settled on the sofa.

She placed elbows on the table and rested her chin on her hands, rocking gently. She wanted to open the folder. She still didn't understand what he was offering. He lived with Naz… but acted strangely around her.

– Let’s do this: – Evren slid the folder across to her. – You review my case, and I’ll study yours. Then we compare notes.

Umay washed her hands and dried them while Siren, Uraz, and Yusuf rolled their eyes—they couldn’t wait to dive into Alya’s case. It was the first time they might participate in something like this.

Bahar nodded slightly and closed her eyes. Everything felt so fragile… Yet she couldn’t deny curiosity. This wasn’t intellectual thrill—it was about saving lives. Just like Esre... And if there was a chance... and Evren offered it... maybe Serhat didn’t see what was obvious—not out of fault, but because he didn’t have the vantage of a father who cherishes deeply.

– All right, – she finally nodded and straightened.

Bahar unlocked her phone, opened a conversation with Doruk, and handed it to Evren.

– Doruk sends me everything, – she explained. – There’s some material in the gallery. Take a look. It shows the progression over several days. I plan to operate tomorrow or the day after at the latest—we can’t wait any longer. If we do, the second fetus and Esra herself will be at risk.

She was already opening the folder with Alya’s case. Uraz and Siren leaned over her shoulders, peering at the pages, while Yusuf sat down next to Evren. He inched a little closer, trying to remember how to read these kinds of lab results.

– Evren, Evren, – Bahar kept repeating, her voice tense as she studied the data.

– Bahar, – Evren briefly looked up from the phone – Alya is Jennifer’s niece.

– Evrreeeen, – Bahar dragged out his name, slipping on her glasses.

Yusuf glanced from one to the other, utterly lost in their exchange. He would’ve appreciated at least some explanation, but Evren remained silent, scrolling through the images, while Bahar buried herself in the reports. The entire room fell into concentrated silence: some focused on the medical files, others on the phone. Uraz looked ready to pull up a chair. Siren was practically leaning on Bahar’s back.

As Evren flipped to the next photo, he froze. His eyes fixed on an image in Bahar’s phone—Naz, in a robe, standing in his kitchen. He couldn’t believe it.

Yusuf cleared his throat and looked away, instinctively backing off a little, suddenly aware that he was witnessing something he probably shouldn’t.

– Leave, – Evren said sharply, his tone unexpectedly cold and forceful.

Bahar glanced at him over her glasses, surprised.

– I said get out, – he stood abruptly, gripping her phone in his hand.

Bahar frowned, having been so deep in Alya’s case that it took her a moment to catch up to reality.

Yusuf stepped back toward the door. He’d clearly seen the woman in the robe—and Evren beside her. It was just a photo, but Evren’s reaction made no sense to him. Why was he so agitated? And why was that photo in Bahar’s phone?

– Professor… – Uraz began, concerned.

– Out, – Evren repeated, this time with even more pressure in his voice.

– Uraz, – Siren tugged at her husband’s hand.

Bahar gave a small nod. She hadn’t seen Evren like this in a long time, and he clearly wasn’t joking—but she had no idea what triggered him. As soon as the kitchen cleared, he placed the phone in front of her, photo displayed.

– What is this? – he demanded.

Bahar closed her eyes for a beat, then opened them, scoffing quietly. She leaned back in her chair, looking straight at him.

– Are you asking me? – she said calmly. – Are you demanding an explanation from me? – her voice trembled. – That’s not even me in the photo—and even if it were, I’d have every right, – she added, still composed.

– Naz is not my lover, – Evren said slowly, quietly.

– But you live with her, – Bahar countered, closing the folder in front of her.

– I don’t live with Naz, – he said, breathing heavily.

– That’s what you say. But the facts say otherwise, – Bahar didn’t move from her seat.

She would have gladly thrown coffee in his face, but her cup was already empty.

– Where did you get that photo? – Evren now stood behind her, his voice taut with tension.