— Serhat… discharge me, — Bahar’s voice was firm, leaving no room for discussion.

She stood in the doorway of the massage room, pressing her hand against her chest as if trying to hold her heart in place.

Serhat wanted to protest, but the words stuck in his throat… and in that instant, it felt like all the sounds around them faded away… in that pause, reality itself trembled, dissolved for a fleeting moment…

***

The floor-to-ceiling windows glowed with a string of lights. From the phone speaker came the cries of seagulls and the sound of waves rolling onto the shore. Two massage chairs, turned toward the windows like beach loungers, and a small table between them — with mint tea, lemon water with crushed ice, mango sorbet, and a little bowl of strawberries. Paper umbrellas shaped like palm trees stuck out of tall glasses. Everything was set up like a seaside escape.

Gülçiçek, wrapped in a light pareo and wearing an oversized straw hat, wiggled her toes and smiled blissfully as she lifted a strawberry to her lips. Reha, in bright shorts and an open, colorful shirt — the white bandage beneath just visible, protecting his post-surgery scar — held her other hand.

— How do you like my surprise, love? — he asked softly, kissing her fingers and lifting his sunglasses.

Gülçiçek looked at her husband.

— What you’ve done is incredible, — she whispered, her eyes filling with tears. — Any more of this and your Ferdi would really need help! — she wasn’t joking.

— I’m tired of just being a patient, darling. I’m also your husband, — he squeezed her fingers tighter.

— But you can’t, you have stitches, your heart— — she reminded him.

Reha lowered himself down, pressed her palm against his chest.

— My heart beats for you. And I want, at least now, for you not to see me as sick, — their eyes locked, — I want you to see me as a man. Your man.

Gülçiçek shifted in her chair, slipped her feet down, and slid into bright sandals. Her fingers brushed his chest; she knew it was still hard for him to hold himself upright, yet he smiled like a boy.

— Tomorrow you’re being discharged, — she whispered. — You could’ve waited.

— No, — Reha shook his head. — I’m tired of waiting. I’ve waited my whole life, — he leaned closer, — I want to live here and now. So… welcome to our private beach, — Reha declared solemnly, but in a whisper. — Honeymoon in the surgery ward, — he winked. — Dress code’s on point, love. Loungers with a view — city view for now, but the bar’s open, and I’m your lifeguard!

— A lifeguard with stitches on his chest, — Gülçiçek’s fingers touched the bandage, — who’s supposed to be lying down, not playing hero!

— I’m following the instructions, heroically, — Reha smirked. — Half an hour sitting — one kiss as reward. Half an hour standing — two. — His smile turned sly. — And if I breathe according to the doctor’s plan, well then… — he nodded.

— Reha, — Gülçiçek gave his hand a playful slap. — You’ll be banned from my beach for indecent behavior!

— On your beach, the only rule is “Love and cherish the hostess,” — he said softly, handing her a glass. — No sugar, no caffeine, but with my wicked intentions.

She took a sip and closed her eyes. She really did savor the sound of the waves playing from the phone.

— It’s lemon water, — she stated, but her tone made it sound like she was confessing to pure happiness. — Smells like summer.

— And sorbet, — Reha scooped up a spoonful of mango ice cream and held it to her lips. — Half a portion, and as your cardiologist, I approve. But if another doctor doesn’t, I’ll fight him to the death, — then blushed at his slip. — Or to life, — he corrected quickly.

Gülçiçek swallowed the sorbet with pleasure and adjusted her pareo, her fingers brushing the knot.

— Life first — then talk, — she winked at him. — Feed me, Professor. I love it so much! — she admitted.

Reha scooped up another spoonful and held it out to her. He watched her eat with hungry tenderness. The brim of her hat shaded her face, and he removed it, setting it on the table.

— I wanted so badly to take you to an island, — he confessed. — Just you, me, and the ocean. No matter how many people want to check my pressure, my pulse, I’ll keep stealing these moments from life! — He said it like he was swearing an oath.

Gülçiçek squeezed his fingers, guided his hand to her knee.

— Then steal one more, — she asked, shifting her shoulder so the pareo slipped a little. — Tie it for me. Properly.

Reha’s eyes widened, a playful spark lighting them up. He leaned closer, careful of his body, listening to its limits. The knot resisted, silk slipping in his fingers, until he gave up and let her help him. Their fingers touched, tangled.

— You know, — Gülçiçek brushed her fingertip lightly over his wrist, — I could use another massage… one not in the protocol.

— I don’t want anyone else touching you, — Reha’s brow furrowed instantly, his grip on her hand tightening. — No hands. Only mine! — he said firmly.

— Jealous man! — she smiled. — What if it’s a woman?

— No one! — he leaned closer, his cheek pressing against hers. — No one knows how you breathe when you feel good. No one but me!

She sighed, smiling faintly. Reluctantly, with effort, they leaned back into their chairs, turned on the “vibrate” mode, and for a while both were silent, listening to the sound of waves and seagulls.

— A beach with heating, — Gülçiçek giggled. — For this kind of luxury, I should be served tea in bed!

— Better yet, — Reha swung his feet down again, leaned forward with a slight wince, and pulled a bottle of coconut lotion from a bag.

— Who helped you set all this up? — she asked.

— Sunscreen against hospital-burns, — Reha brushed it off. — In the exotic climate of Pera Hospital and our married life.

He squeezed some lotion into his hand and slowly, almost tenderly, ran it along her forearm.

— This isn’t a massage, — he whispered, and she closed her eyes.

— More, — Gülçiçek exhaled. — I feel like a dried apricot, — she was almost begging.

— Not true! You’re my mango! Ripe, patient, and— — he stopped, and she opened her eyes, looking at him. — And just a little cheeky, — Reha finished, staring into her eyes.

They fell silent. His fingers traced invisible circles on her skin, while hers brushed over the bandage on his chest, as if begging him never to fall ill again. At one point Gülçiçek’s fingers reached the edge of the scar, and Reha drew in the faintest breath.

— Sorry, — she whispered.

— Don’t you dare, — he answered at once. — It doesn’t hurt. It’s just the road that brought me back to you.

— We could’ve lost this summer, — she touched his cheek with the back of her hand. — But you managed to bring it back for us, here, in this room, — she smiled, — in these chairs. My stubborn love.

— Stubbornness is my plan B, — Reha smirked. — Plan A fell through — honeymoon on an island. So it’s honeymoon with a city view, in massage chairs. And, — he drew in a deep breath, — when I’m fully recovered, we’ll trade places: the sea will be the one looking at us.

Gülçiçek laughed, and her laughter worked on him better than any painkiller.

— Then write it down, — she popped a strawberry into her mouth, — one moment like this every day, so we don’t forget what it means to live between IV drips.

— Every day, — he repeated gravely. — And — every night, — then quickly raised his hand. — Easy! — he pleaded. — Night means when you sleep, and I sit and listen to your breathing. Don’t overwork the lifeguard.

— You are my overload, — she said softly, leaned in, and kissed his temple — right there, where the hospital smell still lingered and the ocean came from a phone speaker. — And you are my relief.

— Take note, Mrs. Gülçiçek: I hereby declare the beach closed to outsiders, — Reha pulled a paper umbrella from a glass and handed it to her like a trophy. — Fine: one kiss.

— Two, — she corrected. — We’re on someone else’s floor; you’ll have to pay triple.

Reha leaned toward her, his lips brushed her cheek gently, cautiously, just as much as the stitches and his heart would allow. The kiss was warm, sweet as mango, and they both laughed when their chairs lazily vibrated again.

— Our beach definitely has heating, — she whispered, squeezing his hand.

— And tides, — he nodded toward the windows. The city breathed with its own waves: cars streaming, distant ship horns. — Look, the water’s reaching all the way to our horizon.

— That’s not water, — Gülçiçek froze. — Reha, what if Bahar loses us?

— Maybe it’s time to check in, — a shadow of guilt flickered in his eyes.

— One more minute, — Gülçiçek pleaded. — Let’s steal this one, — she lifted a strawberry to his lips.

— One minute — fine, — Reha swallowed the berry and glanced at his watch. — A minute and a half — under supervision. Two — with a signed release.

— Sign it, Professor, — Gülçiçek smiled, traced her finger over his chest, drawing an imaginary signature. — Responsible for happiness.

— Signature accepted, — Reha pressed her hand against his chest. — Responsibility — sweet. Side effects: dizziness, rapid heartbeat, sudden attacks of tenderness.

— And unexpected kisses, — she added, leaning toward him.

Her lips almost touched his when—

— Serhat, discharge him! — Bahar’s cry made them spring apart.

Bahar stood there holding Reha’s pajamas, torn between laughing and crying.

— That’s it, — Reha fumbled with his shirt, trying to close it. — Shift’s over, — he muttered. — Back to reality hats.

Gülçiçek grabbed the straw hat and hugged it to her chest as if it could hide her.

— Actually, — Reha stepped in front of her, — we’ve got an alibi: we’re on our honeymoon!

Reha and Gülçiçek looked at the tense faces staring back at them.

Beside Bahar stood Evren, his hand still holding her by the elbow. From the other side came Rengin and Serhat; just behind them, Siren and Uraz appeared, whispering to each other. All of them gazed at the improvised beach. The room held everything — except the feel of a hospital.

The silence lasted a few seconds. A moment ago, Gülçiçek and Reha had been radiating joy; now they looked like schoolkids caught red-handed. She hastily adjusted her pareo, he tried to cover his stomach with his shirt and straighten up, though every movement cost him.

Their eyes met the group’s. Bahar’s breathing was heavy, Serhat frowned, Siren covered her mouth with her hand, Uraz squinted in anger, Rengin looked around in horror — praying Sert wouldn’t walk in.

Bahar was the first to snap out of it. Her face was burning.

— After bypass surgery… a beach?! — she spun toward Serhat. — Discharge him! — her voice trembled with outrage. — Serhat, discharge him immediately!

She didn’t even realize she kept repeating the word. Inside her, the doctor boiled, while the daughter suffocated.

Gülçiçek clutched at her pareo, tried to hide the hat behind the chair — but knocked over the glass of lemon water. It wobbled, fell, and splashed across the floor.

— It’s… it’s therapy, — she stammered, blushing. — For the heart.

Reha coughed, struggling to keep steady.

— Blood pressure normal, — he raised his hand like a report. — Pulse normal. Lifeguard on duty.

Still, he flushed, took a step forward, shielding Gülçiçek with his body.

— I’m the one to blame, — he murmured. — It was my idea.

Bahar lurched forward, but Evren caught her by the elbow, held her back. He could feel her trembling with anger and barely restrained laughter.

— Easy, — his calm voice cut through her storm.

Evren’s eyes drifted across the table: the bowl of strawberries, the tall glasses with palm umbrellas.

Suddenly, Siren turned on Uraz and shoved him.

— And you? — she snapped, sharp as a slap. — When was the last time you asked me out? — she accused him on the spot. — Or are we only here to judge Mom? — she pressed on.

Evren blinked, meeting Bahar’s gaze.

— That’s… that’s different, — Uraz muttered, fell silent, and found no answer.

— Put this out, now! — Rengin yanked at the string of lights, her eyes darting to the door in panic. — If Sert Kaya sees this— — she broke off, horrified.

She tried pulling the plug. Bahar froze with the glasses in her hands. Siren pushed Uraz aside and grabbed the bowl of strawberries. Serhat moved to Reha, his fingers gripping his wrist.

— Jokes later, — he said dryly. — Right now the only thing that matters is that your heart holds steady.

Evren shut the door, turned the key — and chaos erupted.

— The hat! — Rengin hissed, grabbed the straw one herself, and shoved it under the chair.

— Bahar, don’t be like that, — Gülçiçek tried to explain, but Evren gently yet firmly hooked her by the elbow.

— Mama Gülçiçek, stand here, — he caught her eyes. — Breathe. Deep. And don’t interfere, — he smiled so calmly she froze, as if hypnotized.

Reha tried to help, but swayed.

— Pressure… normal, — he muttered again, gripping the edge of the chair.

— Normal for you…, — Serhat barked, then cut himself off. — Hold him! — and together with Evren grabbed him under the arms.

— Two professors holding me up, what’s there to fear? — Reha smirked.

— The umbrellas! — Siren darted to the table, swept the paper cocktail decorations into her coat pocket.

— Take the strawberries too, — Uraz grumbled.

— Keep them yourself, — she shot back, shoving the berries into his hand. — Eat, so your mouth stays busy.

Bahar didn’t know where to turn: to her mother or to Reha. In the end, she let out an awkward laugh, covering her mouth:

— God, we’ve lost our minds… you’re all insane! — she whispered, scanning the room for Gülçiçek’s clothes.

Rengin had already pulled down the string lights, the little bulbs hot in her fingers.

— If Sert walks in right now, we’ll be executed without trial! — she fumed.

Evren and Serhat were already helping Reha into his pajamas.

— I can still manage…, — he grumbled.

— Of course, — Serhat snapped, — you can manage yourself right into the ICU.

— Just bear with it, Professor, — Evren murmured as he bent close to fasten the buttons. — Otherwise we’ll all be writing reports with an erotic undertone.

— At least someone’s honest, — Gülçiçek sighed.

— Mom! — Bahar flushed, trying to sit her down in the chair.

Everyone bumped shoulders, stepped on each other’s feet, the table tipped, someone tugged at the pareo, and Bahar just wrapped her arms around Gülçiçek to keep it in place. Siren and Uraz bickered in low voices, Rengin hovered by the light switch as if it could save them.

And in that ridiculous scramble, all at once, everyone found it so funny they burst out laughing — loud, helpless, tears streaming… until footsteps sounded outside — heavy, measured.

They froze. A shadow slid under the door. Sert Kaya’s steps drew nearer, each one echoing in the corridor. The shadow lay across the threshold, as if he were already breathing down their backs. Silence gripped them. The handle jerked— but the door didn’t open.

— Damn, — Rengin whispered. — He noticed.

No one dared to breathe… until the footsteps finally receded, though still no one moved first. A heavy silence filled the room, thick with laughter, fear, and words left unsaid.

Suddenly the loudspeaker crackled to life, slicing through the air with a metallic voice:

— Doctor Bahar Özden, report to ICU immediately! Professor Evren Yalkın, room 365!

In an instant, the room came alive again. Serhat went pale, swayed.

— Bahar, let’s go, — Evren said at once, gripping her hand.

She clung to it, as if searching in him for strength and faith that it would all work out.

— Esra, — Serhat cried and rushed to the door, rattling the handle without realizing it was locked.

Evren and Bahar exchanged a look. Rengin shook her head almost imperceptibly, eyes fixed on Bahar.

— Serhat, you’re with me, — Bahar stopped him. — Siren, you too, — she left them no room to argue.

— Doctor Serhat Özer, you’re with Doctor Bahar Özden, — Rengin directed firmly.

Serhat clenched his teeth, fighting to keep his trembling body in check.

— Uraz, — Evren said suddenly, his voice sharp. — You’re coming with me.

— But I… — Uraz tried to object.

— No buts, — Evren cut him off. — I need you. Now. — His tone left no doubt.

Uraz blinked at the command, momentarily stunned, then nodded — for once without arguing. Evren went to the door, opened it a crack, peered out. Seeing no Sert Kaya, he pushed it wider. His and Bahar’s hands unclasped only as they all scattered in different directions.

— I’ll cover, — Rengin said quietly, helped Reha settle back into the chair, adjusted his pajamas. — Stay quiet, rest, — she pleaded. — Please, no more surprises. Enough.

She glanced at the half-open door and walked toward it.

— The tea’s cold, — came Reha’s voice behind her.

— The ice cream’s melted, — sighed Gülçiçek.

Rengin shook her head, hiding a smile, and slipped out, pulling the door closed behind her. She turned — and nearly collided with Sert. His silhouette blocked the light. He raised an eyebrow, his gaze sliding past her to the massage room door.

— Professor Rengin… — his voice was far too calm. — What an… interesting place for a gathering, — he said quietly.

***

The room grew quiet again.

— Oh, Reha… what have we done? — Gülçiçek whispered, pressing her palms to her face.

— I don’t regret it, — Reha looked at her. — We stole a moment of happiness, — his voice was soft and heavy at once. — It’s our honeymoon… even if within hospital walls. We have the right, — he shrugged, utterly unapologetic.

— And now what? — she sniffled, biting her lip. — Home? — fear crept into her voice.

— They discharged me, — he answered simply.

— Discharged… — her eyes widened. — And if something happens to you? What am I supposed to do with you at home? — now her eyes brimmed with horror.

— No, — he shook his head stubbornly. — Nothing will happen. I’m perfectly fine.

— But you were swaying, I saw it! Evren and Serhat had to hold you! — she grabbed his hand. — I’m against it! You’re not ready! I’ll tell Bahar! I won’t let them discharge you! No! I’ll ask Evren! — panic took hold of her, she clutched at any hope. — I’ll demand it!

— I don’t want to die, Gülçiçek, — Reha looked at her seriously, for the first time that day without a smile. — Not in a ward, not at home. Don’t worry. I want to live with you. Even if it’s a risk — we’ll live.

Reha barely held back from mentioning work… he knew it wasn’t the right moment. Later, he would still have to prepare Gülçiçek for the fact that he intended to keep working — though not at the same pace.

Gülçiçek closed her eyes, tears rolling down her cheeks. Their beach date had turned into a heavy argument, leaving a bittersweet taste behind…

***

Her mouth felt bitter just from his gaze. Rengin faced Sert Kaya. In his eyes, there was no surprise — only a cold pleasure at finding her here.

— Professor Rengin, — he spoke softly, almost politely, which only made her feel worse. — What kind of meetings take place in locked rooms? Were protocols drawn? Signatures given? — he even turned, making her glance the same way, knowing perfectly well he’d seen everyone who had just fled that room.

— This… is an equipment inspection, — she managed to hold herself, even straighten under his stare. — The room was on the audit list, — she drew in a deeper breath, willing her body not to shake. — As chief physician, I’m obliged to oversee.

— An inspection? — he smirked with just the corners of his mouth. — Curious, — he lingered, as if weighing the thought. — Professor Yalkın is clearly overstepping his authority right now, while Doctor Özden is, as always, treating with her heart? — he leaned in closer. — And once again, not by protocol! — a pointed reminder of the reforms. — And you, Professor Rengin, — he spread his arms with mockery, — stand here at the doors of the massage room like a guard over your own mistakes.

Rengin swallowed hard. Sert Kaya stepped closer.

— Tell me: where shall we go first? — his words cut like a blade. — To the ward, where your doctor gambles with his patient’s life? Or to ICU, where Doctor Özden has long confused her role as physician with that of a mother?

Rengin clenched her hands together, blocking his way.

— And don’t forget, there’s another event today, — he added in a near whisper. — A hearing for Professor Yalkın’s brother. Cem, isn’t that his name? — Rengin paled, but didn’t lower her gaze. — He’s already been summoned, — Sert informed her. — Do you think the Yavuzoğlu family will shield him as tightly as you all cover for each other?

For a moment, Rengin shut her eyes, then forced them open, hiding how deeply he was cutting into her.

— Your doctors keep running from me, Professor, — Sert Kaya savored every word. — But protocols don’t write themselves.

Rengin’s chest tightened, breath caught. She could hardly breathe, but still she stood blocking the door, keeping him from stepping inside. Sert squinted, irritation flickering briefly at her silence.

— Fine, — he snapped. — We’ll start with ICU. You’re coming with me!

Sert Kaya spun sharply, leaving her no choice but to follow. Rengin felt the noose tightening around her throat, the corridor walls pressing in on her…

***

In the corridor outside the ICU, Kamil paced from wall to wall, consumed by dread. His fingers kept wiping sweat from his forehead. He couldn’t stand still, waiting for news, and the moment he saw Bahar, he rushed toward her.

— Why only now? Why so long?! — his voice broke into a shout, thick with pain and despair. — That baby should have been taken out long ago! And now my Ayşe is dying, and it’s you — — he almost jabbed a finger at her chest — you’re the one to blame for her condition!

Bahar held his gaze, her eyes full of compassion. She gently touched his hand and closed her eyes for a moment, feeling how his fingers trembled.

— I understand your anger, Kamil, — she didn’t let go of his hand. — Believe me, if it had been possible to act sooner, we would have. We’ve been fighting for your wife all night, — her voice was soft, yet steady. — Every hour, every minute, we’ve done everything to keep her alive.

— Where were you all night? — his face flushed, his eyes brimmed with tears he tried to hide. — You’ve been keeping the truth from me about her condition! You should have acted earlier! Why is everything taking so long?! — Kamil stepped back, breaking contact, fists clenched, his voice shaking with despair. — She could have been healthy if only you had…

— We know how hard this is for you, — Bahar stepped closer, leaned down so she could meet his eyes. — We aren’t fighting for her life to check a box in a report. Every minute here is a battle to keep your wife alive, — her voice dropped lower.

— Let me explain the situation…, — Serhat raised his hand slightly, trying to calm Kamil. — Your anger won’t help Ayşe recover.

— Are you Professor Yalkın? — Kamil turned sharply toward Siren and Serhat, his brows knitted. — Why isn’t he here?! — his lips trembled with barely restrained emotion. — Where is he?!

— We’re here, and we’re doing everything we can, — Bahar sighed, her eyes steady. — Each of us is fighting for your wife, just as you are.

— Why is no one telling me anything? — he seemed not to hear her. — Why is everyone hiding the truth from me?!

Serhat stayed close to Bahar, ready to intercept if Kamil lashed out. Siren stood a little behind them.

— Doctors can’t inform you about every single step, — Bahar cast a glance at the ICU doors, knowing every second of delay could cost Ayşe her life.

— But she’s dying! — Kamil stepped back again, his voice breaking. — You have to do something! — he ignored all their attempts to calm him.

— We are, — Bahar tilted her head slightly, drew a deep breath. — We won’t stop while there’s even the faintest hope. Your wife is in good hands, believe me.

Her voice remained even, but inside she trembled. She knew every word had to be measured, every gesture confident. More than Ayşe’s life was at stake — so was her husband’s fragile trust.

— Now is not the time for blame, — Siren stepped forward, her face composed. — The focus must be on treatment.

Bahar met Kamil’s eyes again, gently touched his hand once more.

— We fought all night. We kept her alive, but now she’s in crisis, — she exhaled, her heart racing. — We have to save her, — her tone pleaded silently: let us through.

— But where is Professor Yalkın?! — Kamil swung back to Serhat. — Why isn’t he here?!

— We are here, — Bahar said firmly. — And we’re doing everything. — Her voice was steady, though she shook inside.

— Doctor Bahar Özden! — a nurse appeared from the ICU doors. — Quickly! Her vitals are unstable!

Bahar turned, her face immediately sharpened with focus.

— Forgive us, Kamil, we have to go, — she stepped toward the door.

— The situation demands our immediate intervention, — Serhat nodded.

— We can’t delay any longer, — Siren added.

Kamil froze, his eyes widening in terror. He reached out to grab Bahar’s hand but stopped at the last moment.

— Don’t waste time… — he whispered, no longer hiding his tears.

Bahar, Serhat, and Siren disappeared into the ICU. Kamil’s shoulders sank, his eyes clouded with despair. He leaned against the wall, fear and helplessness consuming him. His face twisted in anguish. He clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white.

— Lies, — he rasped, shaking with rage and fear. — They’re all lying to me!

Kamil gritted his teeth, his voice breaking through.

— If anything happens to her… — he forced the words out, then turned to the wall and buried his face in his hands…

***

The oxygen mask covered her face; the room reeked of medicine. Esra lay in the bed, her stomach visibly rising beneath the blanket. The monitor beeped, her pulse line spiking and dropping erratically.

— Blood pressure sixty over forty! — Yusuf shouted when he saw Evren. He couldn’t hold back any longer, the words burst out.

— Noradrenaline, central line! — Evren snapped, bending over Esra. — Uraz, vitals! — he demanded, ignoring Yusuf’s outburst.

— Saturation one fifteen, — Uraz read off the tablet, glancing at the monitors. — Liver function catastrophic, AST and ALT off the charts, — his voice cracked, broke.

Yusuf stepped aside, his fingers trembling as he scribbled notes, but his eyes kept darting back to Esra.

— But she’s pregnant… — he breathed out, but in the room it sounded deafening.

— Shut up! — Uraz spun toward him, losing control. — You’re nothing here! Get out! — he roared.

Yusuf went pale, backing against the wall.

— Uraz! — Evren’s voice sliced through the chaos like a scalpel. — The patient! — He grabbed Uraz’s hand, gripping it hard, dragging him back to reality. — Don’t panic! Look at her. This isn’t Bahar! — his tone was calm, steady. — She’s not our family. First and foremost, she’s a patient!

Uraz’s breathing faltered, his face drained of color, sweat beading on his forehead.

— Heart rate dropping, — Yusuf blurted again, eyes glued to the monitor. — One-ten… ninety…

— We’re losing her, — Uraz’s voice trembled.

— No, we’re holding her, — Evren cut him off. — Central line, plasma — now. Uraz, move! — his tone sharpened.

He shoved him toward the tray of instruments. Uraz froze for a second, then obeyed, snatched the catheter, and began working. Panic ebbed, leaving only anger and shame.

— Seventy… sixty… — Yusuf muttered, staring at the monitor. — Bahar. The baby. She needs to be called. To save the baby.

Uraz froze at Yusuf’s words.

— I’m scared, — he suddenly breathed out, confessing both to himself and to Evren. — I’m scared, Evren, — for the first time calling him by name at work. — Damn it, I’m scared! — he shouted.

— Everyone’s scared, — Evren shot back dryly, without looking at him, unmoved by his panic. — But a doctor keeps working. Do it, Uraz. You’re a doctor! — he barked.

Esra groaned under the mask, her fingers twitching. The monitor screeched.

— I was right…, — Yusuf stepped forward. — I said her numbers would crash.

Evren raised his head, fixing his stare on Uraz.

— You didn’t hear, — his voice cold as steel. — Another mistake?! — for once, even Evren lost his restraint.

— Enough! — Uraz’s hands shook. — I’m not a robot! I’m human too!

— But she — or any patient — won’t survive your “I’m human”! — Evren snapped back.

The air itself quivered with tension.

— Perfusion’s falling, — Yusuf blurted, staring at the monitor. — We need more volume or her kidneys will fail!

Everyone froze.

— Yusuf! — Evren spun toward him, his voice harsh, almost brutal. — You’re a trainee. You’re here to learn. To observe. Not to take responsibility!

— But I can see it! — Yusuf cried. — I can’t stay silent when… when it’s Esra! — tears welled in his eyes. — This is Esra Özer! She’s—

The words hung in the air. Yusuf froze, realizing he had said too much.

Evren stared at him unblinking, then gave a short nod.

— You see correctly, but you speak wrongly, — he turned back to Uraz. — Prep the transfusion!

The monitor screamed again. Esra’s heartbeat stuttered, erratic, as if ready to stop at any second.

— She’s dying! — Yusuf panicked.

Uraz shot him a side glance but stayed silent.

— We’re holding her! — Evren growled under his breath, eyes on the monitors. — Barely, but we’re holding!

— Doctor Bahar Özden to the operating room. Urgently. — The loudspeaker crackled, freezing them all.

Evren’s eyes locked with Uraz’s, and both of them knew: this was only the beginning of hell.

***

From the very beginning, nothing went as it should. Bahar entered the operating room.

— She’s barely holding on, — the nurse whispered, sliding a sterile gown over Bahar’s shoulders.

— Platelets forty thousand, INR over two, — the assistant reported.

Bahar looked at Ayşe — her pale face, her blue lips — before turning to the monitor.

— Coagulopathy, — Siren murmured.

— Fetal heart… — Serhat shook his head and froze.

— Yes, — Bahar confirmed calmly. — The fetus is gone. We prepare for evacuation. Immediately.

— But her liver? — Siren couldn’t hold back, her voice trembled. — The bleeding risk… Bahar, she might not survive the OR!

— Without surgery she won’t survive at all, — Bahar shot back, firm. — This is our only chance.

Serhat darted to another monitor but froze for a second, eyes closed. In his mind it wasn’t Ayşe on the table — it was Esra, his daughter.

— No… — his lips moved by themselves.

— Serhat! — Bahar’s voice rose. — The patient is not your daughter! Focus!

He swallowed, nodded, forced himself back to the machines.

— Pressure dropping, — the anesthesiologist called. — Systolic sixty.

— Fresh frozen plasma, now, — Bahar ordered. — Prep her for surgery.

— Bahar… — Siren’s hands weren’t steady.

— Numbers are deteriorating fast, — the anesthesiologist’s voice was detached, professional, but Bahar caught the tremor beneath it.

She leaned over Ayşe. Blue lips, shallow breath — everything screamed that time was running out.

— We can’t wait any longer, — she said, eyes fixed on the monitors. — Risk of liver rejection is too high. We move now.

— Bahar, — Siren said quietly, — you know we might lose her right here on the table. Her liver won’t survive the stress.

By the other monitor, Serhat closed his eyes again. Esra’s face flashed before him — the daughter Evren was fighting to save. Would he succeed this time? If she slipped away now, without him there, would this morning have been the last time he saw her alive? He shoved the thought aside with effort.

— We have to focus on the patient, — Bahar’s voice was firm, though inside she was taut with dread. — There’s no other way.

— Blood pressure still falling, — the anesthesiologist reported. — Fifty-five over thirty.

— We begin, — Bahar commanded. — I’ll lead the main intervention. Siren, you’re on the liver. Serhat — the heart.

— But… — Siren swallowed hard. — The risk…

— The risk without surgery is a hundred times worse, — Bahar cut her off. — We act. Now.

Their movements were precise, professional — yet tension thickened the air.

— Prepare for massive blood loss, — Bahar warned.

Serhat nodded.

— No fetal heartbeat detected, — he confirmed. — This is the only path.

Siren drew in a long breath; at last her hands steadied. She knew Bahar was right. They had to risk it.

— Let’s begin, — Bahar said. — And remember: we’re fighting not just for her life, but for her future. We’ll do everything we can.

The operating room sank into a heavy silence. The monitors beeped faster, as if counting down the last seconds.

— Hemoglobin falling! — the anesthesiologist’s voice cracked. — Forty-five and still dropping!

— Coagulopathy worsening! Bahar, her liver won’t hold! — Siren’s face blanched, her hands trembled again. — We’re losing her!

— Hold her! — Bahar whispered, her voice taut with strain. — We have to save her!…

***

— You’re saving everyone? — Sert kept his hands behind his back. — And the protocols? What about the protocols? — he stared straight at Rengin. — You’re the chief physician. The paperwork will bear your name. If the patient dies — whose signature will be on those forms? — His voice was low, but every word echoed off the corridor walls.

Rengin went pale but kept silent. Kamil jumped up, shook his head, and stepped closer.

— Doctor Özden treats with her heart, — he leaned in, standing near the OR doors, — but when the heart takes precedence over regulations, that’s no longer medicine. That’s arbitrariness! Her son, who once filed a complaint against his own mother, is now a doctor — are you sure he’s capable of being responsible for other people’s lives?

Rengin felt the chill in her palms.

— Professor Rengin… the patient is already in the OR, the graft is at risk, pregnancy twenty-four weeks, the fetus is dead, — he spoke calmly, each word landing like a verdict. — Has the council been convened? Is the protocol completed?

— The situation is critical now, — Rengin answered, meeting his eyes. — We are acting on indications.

— I record, — he continued coldly. — Fetal death. Plasma, steroids, emergency evacuation — but without a council. Without the committee’s decision!

Sert spoke as if dictating to some unseen authority, and it sounded more terrifying than any shout.

— The family works in full force. As if the hospital were a family council, — his tone remained even, emotionless. — The question is, Professor: are you controlling the process, or not?

Rengin felt Kamil move closer behind her. She did not look at him, but she knew he heard every word. Her cheeks burned with shame as Sert Kaya reprimanded her like a guilty resident. Her fingers trembled betrayingly; her throat went dry. Every cell in her body rebelled against the accusations. After all, they were trying to save a patient.

— The patient’s condition was critical! — she tried to justify herself, forcing her voice to sound firm. — We could not wait for approval!

Kamil’s presence at her back thickened the tension. Rengin felt his gaze — bewilderment and perhaps judgment.

— That does not give you the right to break established rules! — Sert raised his voice. — And if something goes wrong?

Rengin clenched her jaw, fighting back tears. She knew she was right in her resolve, but in that moment she felt small and helpless before Sert Kaya.

— We saved her life, — she whispered, eyes downcast. — Sometimes you must act against protocol to save a human being.

A heavy pause hung in the air. Rengin felt her pulse thumping at her temples; her heart felt ready to burst from her chest. She understood that not only her professional reputation was at stake now, but also the trust of the man who had become an involuntary witness to this exchange.

— Are you sure the child of this patient died from the illness, — Sert asked quietly, — and not because your doctors failed to follow the rules?!

Kamil straightened abruptly, his face contorted by pain and rage. Blood surged to his cheeks and his hands curled into fists.

— You’re right! — his voice rasped with fury. — No one took proper care of my wife!

— You have no right to say that! — she tried to object.

Kamil did not hear her. His gaze was soaked in hatred and disappointment. Sert Kaya’s face remained unreadable. He watched the scene in silence.

— Where were all your doctors when my wife was suffering? — Kamil nearly shouted. — Where were they when she needed help? — he turned to Sert Kaya. — They act as they please, ignoring the rules! And now my wife is on the brink of death!

Rengin felt the ground slip away beneath her. She knew Kamil had a painful point, but she could not accept his accusations.

— We are doing everything we can… — she began.

— That’s just words! — Kamil cut her off. — My wife needs real help!

He did not look at her. His eyes remained fixed on the OR door behind which his wife lay.

— If they even try to lose her, — he whispered through clenched teeth, — I will hold each of them accountable. Every one of them!

Kamil stood in the corridor, his shoulders shaking with restrained emotion. He no longer trusted anyone…

***

She still believed, still hoped, even as the monitors began to scream their alarms. Bahar felt the chill spread inside her.

— Hemoglobin dropping to critical! — the anesthesiologist shouted. — Thirty and falling!

— Massive hemorrhage, — Siren whispered without lifting her head. — I can’t stop it!

— Coagulopathy, terminal stage! — the anesthesiologist pressed on. — Blood pressure fifty over thirty… forty over twenty…

— Fresh frozen plasma! — Bahar ordered. — Everything we’ve got!

— Heart tones weakening! — Serhat shook his head. — Adrenaline! Now!

Bahar closed her eyes for a moment, unwilling to admit this was the end. The monitors gave out one long, flat tone, but Bahar refused to give up. She couldn’t let go. She’d succeeded before.

— Cardiac arrest! — the anesthesiologist cried.

— Starting compressions, — Serhat announced. — Defibrillation! Two hundred joules! — he called, and all hands lifted clear. — Shock. Again. Again.

Every eye fixed on the monitors. The line stayed flat.

— Continue! — Bahar shouted.

Five minutes passed. Ten. Fifteen.

Bahar stepped back from the table, her hands trembling. She looked at Siren, at Serhat.

— Time of death, — Bahar said at last, for the first time.

The OR fell into dead silence. Only the steady whine of the monitor’s flatline filled the air. Bahar closed her eyes. She knew what came next: she would have to go to Kamil. To tell him what he would never accept. To speak words she herself would never forgive.

— We did everything we could, — she whispered, though even she did not believe it…

***

Bahar struggled to find words as she stepped into the corridor. For the first time, she had to tell family about a death. Her face was deathly pale, lips trembling, her hands clutched the edges of her gown so tightly her knuckles turned white.

Kamil sprang up the moment he saw her, taking a step toward her.

— Where is my wife? — his eyes burned with desperation.

— I’m so sorry… we did everything we could, — her voice was steady, professional, but beneath it was pain — raw and real.

For a second, Kamil froze, as if her words had not reached him. His shoulders shook, his breath came ragged.

— No… — he whispered. — No, no! — then suddenly exploded, grabbing her by the shoulders. — What did you do to her?! You killed her! You killed my Ayşe! — his eyes bloodshot, his face twisted with rage.

Evren was hurrying down the corridor toward the OR, Yusuf at his heels.

— No! No!!! You’re lying! You promised me! — Kamil shoved Bahar away so violently she staggered back, hitting the wall before forcing herself upright.

Evren’s steps faltered. Seeing Bahar reel from the blow struck him like one to the gut, stealing his breath. A cold shock spread through him. Then he lunged forward, seizing Kamil with brutal strength, slamming him against the wall.

— Enough! — his pupils shrank. — That’s enough! Doctors will not be beaten by family!

Kamil thrashed, pulling against him, but Evren’s grip was iron.

— Evren, not like this… — Rengin rushed up, reaching out a hand in plea.

— How then, Rengin?! — Evren snapped at her, fury in his eyes. — Yesterday Bahar was already hurt, she still bears the bruises! And now this? Do you see what’s happening? We save lives, and we’re thrown under fists! Where’s the security? Where’s the system?! Who protects the doctors?!

He tightened his hold on Kamil’s shoulder until the man groaned.

— Evren, — Bahar clung to his arm, trying to draw his focus. — Evren, please! — she begged.

Nurses and assistants crowded the hallway, the air humming with rising alarm. Sert Kaya stood off to the side, his eyes gleaming with triumph — this was the chaos he had long been waiting for, proof in plain sight.

Serhat stepped out of the OR, and his face went ashen when he saw Evren. Fear twisted his features.

— Where is Esra?! — he strode toward him. — What’s happening with my daughter?! You know nothing! Your methods are empty! — he lost control, voice breaking. — You’ll never understand what it means to have a child! You abandoned yours! You didn’t save my daughter! — he flung the accusation like a knife. — You’re worth nothing!

Evren spun to him, shoving Kamil aside, pushing Bahar out of the way, stepping toward Serhat as if ready for a fight.

— That was your child! — his voice tore through the noise. — She said he was yours!

Bahar reached for him, but before she could catch his hand, Kamil’s fingers clamped around her wrist. He dragged her toward him, eyes blazing with hatred and madness.

For a heartbeat, silence fell in the corridor. The very air seemed sucked away, leaving only a vacuum. Bahar jerked her hand, bracing her other palm against Kamil’s chest.

— Stop it! — Yusuf hurled himself between Evren and Serhat. — Don’t you dare, — his eyes brimmed with tears, — don’t you dare talk about my mother like that!

His hands trembled, his eyes burned. He shoved Serhat back, then struck Evren hard in the chest, as if trying to shake both men at once.

— Enough!!! — Yusuf cried. — Don’t… don’t you dare… — he repeated, voice raw, until at last he forced the words out: — So which of you is my father?! — he shouted, breaking.

Evren and Serhat froze, stunned, breathing hard, staring at Yusuf.

— She’s gone, — Kamil murmured, his arms falling limp, drained.

Bahar stepped forward, but it was like slamming into an invisible wall. Her breath caught, no words would come. Rengin pressed a hand to her mouth, horror flooding her eyes. And in that instant, Sert Kaya stepped forward.

— Enough, — he said, fixing Rengin with his gaze. — Professor Rengin, you are relieved of your duties as chief physician. You’ve lost control. You no longer command the situation, nor your doctors.

Rengin moved as if to protest, but the words stuck in her throat. She pressed a hand to her chest, her eyes flicking helplessly from Bahar, to Evren, to Yusuf, to Serhat. She would not allow herself to cry — only her shoulders trembled. Sert Kaya turned and walked away.

Yusuf stood between Evren and Serhat, still shaking, unable to calm himself, unable to hide his trembling. Bahar reached out, trying to hold him, but he recoiled, pulling back from her touch.

Everyone froze. And it seemed the hospital itself held its breath, unable to bear another blow…