Bahar was lying on her right side, her hand tucked under her cheek, breathing calmly and evenly.

— She’s here, — he whispered, crouching down by the bed.

He was ready to cover her face with kisses, to wake her with a kiss, for she slept so sweetly, like a baby, that he could barely restrain himself.

— She’s asleep, — Çağla leaned on the pillow. — I thought she wouldn’t let herself fall asleep, — she whispered, — but she slept through the night and she’s still asleep, — she smiled.

Evren silently studied Bahar. He even raised his hand to brush her hair aside, but stopped, afraid to disturb her sleep. His fingers trembled slightly.

— Your face looks like a child’s who’s just received a long-awaited gift, — Çağla smiled faintly.

— Just don’t wake her, — he asked, — let her sleep a little longer, — and he too smiled, glancing at Çağla. — How are you?

— I’m fine, — she grew serious for just a moment, then the spark returned to her eyes. — You’ll have your chance to tell her everything.

— And if I don’t? — he tensed.

— Not now. Later, yes. So for now, just look at her and breathe quieter, — she teased, — sometimes I feel like she hears even in her sleep, especially when you’re near.

Evren tilted his head slightly:

— She sleeps as if she wants to avoid all conversations, — he said with a smile, still unable to take his eyes off her.

It had been so long since he’d looked at her like this — without haste, without holding back.

— Or maybe just so she doesn’t have to be strong for once, — Çağla continued.

But they did wake her. First Bahar stirred, her lashes fluttered. She frowned slightly, then opened her eyes and immediately met his gaze. Blinking, she sat up abruptly, almost bumping into him.

— How long have I slept? — she asked hoarsely, her eyes fixed on Evren.

He sat before her, still unable to look away. Her sleepy face, her tousled hair — it moved him so deeply he could sit there forever.

— Not much, — Çağla said louder now as she sat up on the bed, — but probably more than in the past two days.

— You… what are you doing here? — Bahar fumbled with her hair, her clothes, doing everything at once in a rush.

She had forgotten what it felt like to wake up under his gaze… no, she remembered, but it had been so long that now his presence filled her with unease.

— I wanted to see you, — he answered calmly.

Bahar stood, forcing him to lean back and rise as well. She turned to Çağla, gestured something with her hands, then spun back to Evren. Panic flickered in her eyes.

— I need to go, — now panic was joined by anxiety, — I should’ve been there already, — instead of explaining, she pointed toward the door. — What time is it? I didn’t plan to sleep, I was supposed to check everything, — she turned to Çağla.

Evren’s brows rose. He had forgotten what it was like to see her so flustered, so embarrassed. He could see her trying to hide it, to put on her usual mask, and still, to him, she was the most beautiful thing in that early morning light.

— You don’t need to run anywhere, — he almost touched her hand.

— I… — she turned to him, her gaze torn between anger and tenderness, shame and irritation. — I need to check, — she snapped suddenly and bolted out of the room.

— Bahar, — Evren called after her.

— Run, little bird, run, — Çağla sighed, lying back on the bed. — Just don’t forget to breathe, — she added softly.

Evren spread his arms helplessly. A moment ago she had been sleeping, then standing before him, and now she was gone.

— She’s a tough case, — Çağla settled in more comfortably, — but you’re stubborn, — she nearly laughed, but restrained herself. Watching those two was too fascinating. — It must be love, after all, — she murmured with a smile.

Evren gave a short chuckle, rolled his shoulders:

— She’ll take me back, — he smiled.

Çağla closed her eyes to hide the tears welling up. She was glad for Bahar and Evren. Even if they hadn’t resolved their problems yet, they would — they’d sort it out, they’d endure… As for her, all she had left was hope and faith. She couldn’t bring Tolga back… but she could still have a child, and she would do everything to give that child a chance to be born.

***

…For Çağla to carry the baby, Bahar had to oversee the process. She scolded herself as she hurried down the corridor, pinning up her hair on the go. Freshly showered and changed, after checking in on Reha and Gülçiçek, she headed straight for the lab, dodging everyone who crossed her path.

She thought she heard Evren call after her — or maybe she imagined it — but since she wasn’t ready to talk to him yet, she simply quickened her pace. Still cursing herself for oversleeping, she ran past Esra’s room, pointing to the door as she went, as if jotting down another line in her invisible notebook: Check on her later.

Bahar inhaled deeply the scent of coffee drifting her way, then heard Rengin’s voice. She almost caught a glimpse of her — and then of him. Evren was walking with two cups of coffee. Bahar swerved sharply around the corner and crashed into a solid male figure.

— What the — she blurted, throwing up her hands.

— Careful, — Serhat steadied her, helping her regain balance.

He had just opened his mouth to add something when they both heard it:

— I expect the protocols for this surgery in half an hour, — Rengin’s stern voice carried over.

— After the video consult, I’ll have everything ready, — Evren’s voice was firm, confident.

Serhat’s face changed, his eyes darting nervously. Bahar went pale. At the same time, they both moved — and collided again, grabbing each other’s hands to keep from stumbling. Their heads turned in unison, searching for escape, and then they both spotted it — a door leading to the stairwell.

Bahar was the first to dart that way. Serhat beat her to it and pulled the door open for her. They rushed inside and shut it behind them. Their breathing was uneven, eyes on each other before flicking back to the door, holding their breath as they listened.

— What are you doing here? — Bahar whispered, turning to Serhat.

— What about you? — he drew in a breath. — Hiding from someone?

— Same as you, — Bahar exhaled.

Serhat narrowed his eyes slightly, studying hers.

— You know perfectly well why I’m here, — she snapped, anger rising. — I’ve had enough of bets and dares, — she burst out, saving him the trouble of guessing. — But why are you avoiding Rengin?

Serhat looked away, tugging nervously at his collar.

— How’s Reha? — she shifted the subject, barely holding back a smile.

— Stable, — he sighed, grateful for the turn. — On IVs, blood pressure under control, I’m monitoring him, — he faltered, then after a pause added, — I was actually on my way to check on him, — he admitted, tilting his head slightly. — And how’s Esra?

— Stable too, — Bahar lowered her eyes guiltily. — Yesterday, at least. I haven’t been in to see her today yet. Haven’t seen her latest results.

Serhat relaxed a little.

— Sounds like our morning’s been a bit chaotic, — he tried to keep his tone even.

— You could say that, — Bahar pressed a hand to her chest, her heart pounding.

— We run into each other a lot, — he remarked.

Bahar flushed, her cheeks reddening.

— We work in the same hospital, — she reminded him.

— On different floors, — he pushed back.

Bahar waved her hand decisively, refusing to continue that line. She used to bump into Evren often too, back when she had just learned her diagnosis — but she had forbidden herself to even think about that.

— We must look ridiculous, — Serhat said, — standing here waiting for them to leave.

— Running away is the surest way to avoid meeting, — Bahar whispered, her eyes clouded, her posture shrinking a little.

— Is it really that hard for you? — he suddenly asked.

Bahar glanced at him, and he caught the glimmer of tears in her eyes, only for a heartbeat, before her gaze grew steady again.

— That’s putting it mildly, — she admitted. — Worse is that I’m afraid because I don’t even know what I want, and what if — she cut herself off, pressing her hand to her chest again, as though she could calm her heart and her soul at once.

Serhat closed his eyes briefly, leaning back against the wall.

— You’re not the only one, — he whispered hoarsely, barely daring to open his eyes. — I’m hiding from a doctor because I’m afraid she sees right through me, and I’m not ready for that, — he confessed.

— And I’m hiding from someone who, I think, still wants to see the woman I used to be, — Bahar sighed. — And I don’t even know if she’s still there.

— Maybe you’re already letting yourself be someone else, someone new, — he asked softly, opening his eyes.

— What do you mean? — she didn’t understand.

— Sometimes all it takes is someone willing to look at you differently, — he said, relief in his voice.

Bahar stared at him in silence, as though turning his words over in her mind.

— I really need to go, — she whispered, moving toward the door. — First to the lab, then to Esra.

— And I to Professor Reha, — Serhat stood behind her.

Neither of them dared touch the handle just yet. They both listened, still unsure it was safe to leave.

— Wish us luck, — Bahar murmured and pushed the door open.

— You’ll manage, Bahar. Even if you don’t believe it yet, — Serhat smiled at her back.

But she didn’t see it, didn’t hear it. Bahar walked quickly away, pausing only to listen, but never stopping, moving forward…

***

Evren let him go in first and followed after. It was Yusuf’s first time in his office. He looked around cautiously, afraid of doing something wrong, of provoking his displeasure… and why did he even think of him that way? Of course—no one had ever really told him what kind of man Evren was.

— You haven’t had breakfast, have you? — Evren handed him a cup of hot coffee.

Yusuf blinked and took it.

— How did you know? — he asked hoarsely.

Evren gave a short chuckle. The boy both pleased and unsettled him. He was polite, restrained, tactful — but still, there was something about him that made Evren uneasy. And what he hated most was that Yusuf was now sleeping in Bahar’s house, in her study…

Evren had never expected that. He had imagined taking that room himself. Of course, what he really wanted was her bedroom, not the study—but everything had to go step by step. First, be in the house. Then move upstairs, closer to her room. And eventually… inside it. He hadn’t thought that this boy with the clever eyes would block his path.

— So, you haven’t had breakfast? — Evren pointed to a chair. Yusuf immediately sat down and took a sip of coffee.

— Actually, no, — he admitted, embarrassed.

— Remember this: I don’t want you coming to training on an empty stomach, — Evren placed a kebab and a bottle of ayran in front of him. — I need you alert, not fainting the moment you step into the OR. Respect for the patient starts with respect for yourself. First, take care of yourself, then save others. Eat, — he took a bite himself.

Evren hadn’t eaten either. Cem hadn’t slept a wink, sitting out all night on the balcony staring at the Bosphorus. Evren hadn’t pushed him—there was nothing to say yet. Cem needed time to face what he’d done, and Evren himself needed to cool down. As he was leaving, Cem had stopped him at the door:

— You’re leaving me? Not afraid I’ll run?

— I have nothing to fear, — Evren answered calmly. — Decide how you want to live. What’s next for you? How do you see yourself in a couple of years? Ten? — He had been holding his helmet. — Whatever you decide, I’ll accept it. You’re my brother, but I won’t take responsibility for your choices.

Now, looking at Yusuf, Evren saw the difference. How young Cem still was, and how grown-up Yusuf already seemed. Almost the same age, both orphans—yet the gulf between them was vast.

Evren ate his kebab, scrolling through his phone, carefully avoiding Yusuf’s eyes so as not to embarrass him. But irritation crept in anyway. He knew why: he hadn’t managed to talk to her, and those few stolen moments in Çağla’s room had been painfully insufficient. He had even written her a message, clutching his coffee cup — almost suggested meeting on the terrace—but deleted it before sending. Had she eaten? Or had she just rushed off to save lives, forgetting herself again? He didn’t notice how every shade of his inner turmoil played across his face.

Yusuf finished his ayran and stood. He took Evren’s empty bottle, tossed it in the bin, washed his hands, then returned to the table.

Evren also stepped to the sink, still frowning, gnawing at the same thought—had she eaten or not? Grinding his teeth, he dried his hands, grabbed his tablet, and sat across from Yusuf. The boy had already opened a notebook, laying out a pen and pencil.

— Let’s start with one of the most difficult cases, — Evren searched for the right file.

— Alya? — Yusuf shifted eagerly in his chair, pencil hovering over the clean page.

Evren looked at him from under his brows.

— Female, twenty-three. Esra Özer. Candidate for heart transplant, — he kept his eyes fixed on him. — She’s pregnant.

Yusuf’s head snapped up.

— Özer? — he repeated, the color draining from his face.

— Yes! — Evren’s voice was harsh. — Something wrong?

— No, — Yusuf quickly dropped his gaze and scribbled in the notebook. — I heard the surname at Bahar’s house, — he explained, not noticing how jagged and uneven his handwriting had become.

Evren stretched his neck. He hated how much it bothered him that this boy was already living in her house. Yusuf was there, while Evren was still only trying to get in. It ate at him.

— She was carrying twins, — he said in an even voice. — One fetus had to be removed for medical reasons, — he fixed Yusuf with a look, — Dr. Bahar performed the surgery.

Yusuf wrote methodically, without lifting his head.

— The pregnancy continues, but her condition is unstable. Constant monitoring, — Evren kept his breathing steady.

— Will we, — Yusuf raised his eyes from the notebook, — see Bahar?

Evren straightened a little. He himself longed to see her — but how unpleasant it was to hear that someone else wanted her attention too. As if her children, her mother, her grandchildren weren’t enough — now Yusuf as well?

— First of all, she is Dr. Bahar to you! — his reply came too sharp. — Second, she does not need to be at her bedside twenty-four hours a day!

— She works in this hospital, professor, — Yusuf said uncertainly, not understanding why Evren’s tone had shifted.

— The fact that she works here, — Evren repeated, — doesn’t mean you’ll be crossing paths with her! Your task: listen more, watch, think, — he listed off. — Keep your questions to yourself or write them down; we’ll discuss them at the end of the day! For now, you’re not even a student — you’re just an observer!

Evren stood, pulled a lab coat from the closet, and handed it to him.

— And don’t forget to breathe, — he added, a little softer. — Come on.

They left the office together, Yusuf slipping into the coat as they walked. Evren cast only a single glance at the closed door across the hall… Bahar clearly wasn’t there, he could feel it. Otherwise, he would have gone in, made her eat something.

They passed Ferdi, who broke off a conversation mid-sentence to glance their way. Evren tried to ignore the whispers behind his back. Once again, he and Bahar were the topic of speculation. The stakes were clearly rising — and he clenched his fists.

— Good morning, Professor Evren, — Uraz approached with a tablet. — Aliya’s relatively stable, I checked all her vitals, — he avoided direct eye contact.

Meanwhile, Ferdi and a couple of assistants froze nearby, watching intently.

— Temperature 37, pulse 92, blood pressure normal, — Uraz continued, walking with them as they moved away from the curious stares. — Bilirubin and AST within range, ALT slightly elevated.

— Urine output? — Evren asked with a single word.

— Restored, no edema, — Uraz lifted his eyes from the tablet to meet Evren’s.

Yusuf nearly stumbled. Just yesterday Uraz had practically shouted that the professor wouldn’t be in their house — and today he was calmly reporting to him.

— I think we can discontinue cyclosporine by the end of the week, — Uraz concluded.

Evren stopped, turned to him.

— Creatinine levels? — he asked immediately, frowning.

Uraz blinked, scrolled quickly on the tablet.

— I didn’t check, — he admitted. — But coagulation is back to normal, — his voice wavered, uncertainty creeping in, — no liver risk at the moment.

— Aliya’s not just a hepatology case — she has someone else’s heart as well, — Evren reminded him. — With ALT above normal and cyclosporine, kidney function is critical. — He fixed Uraz with a look. — Order creatinine, urea, sodium, potassium, and total protein. And don’t forget — if you’re planning to discontinue cyclosporine, C0 levels are mandatory.

— I’ll do it, professor, — Uraz nodded too quickly, guilt in his voice. — Sorry, I rushed it, — he added quieter, glancing around to check if anyone had heard his mistake.

— Don’t be quick to declare “stable,” — Evren’s voice was calm, — until you see the whole picture. You are a doctor, Aziz Uraz, and you’re responsible for patients with foreign organs. Our job is to make sure they survive.

— Understood, professor, — Uraz nodded again, switched off the tablet, and hurried toward the patient.

— Strange, — Yusuf muttered under his breath.

— What? — Evren frowned.

Yusuf shook his head, unwilling to explain. But Evren caught on and pressed:

— What? — he repeated, stopping in his tracks.

Yusuf nearly rolled his eyes but forced them shut instead, then swallowed hard when he opened them again.

— And? — Evren crossed his arms, waiting.

Yusuf realized he wasn’t moving until he spoke. In that moment it felt as if nothing else mattered — not even the patients waiting. Evren was intent on knowing, as if he sensed this had something to do with Bahar.

— I don’t understand how he feels about you, — Yusuf whispered, blushing. — He barely tolerates you, I think, — Yusuf stumbled over his words, — at home, — he clarified, — but here it’s different.

— He doesn’t have to like me, — Evren said evenly. He was still frowning, but finally moved on. — Home is one thing, here is another. We all wear white coats, — he reminded him. — Respect for the profession starts with leaving personal matters out of the work.

Yusuf nodded, suddenly aware of a growing respect for Evren. He didn’t really know him yet — but the more he saw, the more intriguing he became.

Yusuf hesitated a moment as they approached the patient’s room.

— Watch, don’t interfere, — Evren said quietly. — No questions to the patient, her family, or the doctors.

Yusuf nodded. He flinched slightly stepping inside. White walls, the soft hum of machines… and a beautiful young woman on the bed. Yusuf’s gaze lingered timidly. Dark eyes, wavy hair, delicate features.

— Patient: Esra Özer, twenty-two weeks pregnant, — one of the assistants announced, handing Evren the chart.

— Bahar, — Yusuf whispered joyfully as she entered the room.

— Doctor Bahar, — Evren hissed sharply without looking at him. — Address her properly!

— Good morning, — she said, reaching for the file, and Evren handed it to her.

For just a moment, their fingers brushed. She didn’t look at him, didn’t meet his eyes. Evren, though, couldn’t look away. She had changed into fresh clothes, her hair pinned up with some unusual clip, and from her reddish curls, a single eye stared back at him.

— Saturation 92, blood pressure stable, — she raised her eyes from the chart. — Electrolyte test ready?

— Ready, — Doruk rushed in. — Pulling it up now, — he tapped on his tablet.

— Glad you’re here, — Evren murmured, stepping closer. He reached out, and she returned the file to him.

For an instant, Bahar’s breath faltered. Only he noticed. He smiled faintly, lowered his head, hiding it. She kept her eyes on the monitors.

— What’s your plan? — Serhat entered, the hem of his coat flaring as he strode in.

He was clearly in a hurry, eager not to miss a thing.

— Since you’re both here, — he noted, — something must have happened?!

He instantly jumped to conclusions and stretched out his hand, but Evren didn’t move to give him the chart.

— Dad, — Esra tried to sit up, and Doruk rushed to help her.

Dad? Yusuf recoiled a step, almost hiding behind Evren’s back. Clutching his notebook to his chest, he hugged himself, staring at the man, hardly blinking.

— The patient has two attending physicians, — Evren reminded him firmly. — Everyone else is just observing!

— I have the right to review it, — he kept his hand outstretched, silently demanding Evren hand him the chart.

— We already agreed on a treatment plan, — Bahar found herself standing beside Evren, their shoulders almost touching.

— I wanted — Serhat began, his gaze tense.

— No, — Evren cut him off sharply. — The patient is being examined right now. As her father, you may stay, but you will not interfere!

— You’re upsetting my patient! — Bahar stood her ground for Esra. — You know full well, as a doctor, that she mustn’t be agitated!

— What’s wrong with my daughter? — Esra cried, her hands flying to her belly. — What’s wrong with my baby?

Bahar silently gestured toward Esra, her eyes fixed meaningfully on Serhat. Doruk came closer, took Esra’s hand, whispering softly to her while the others argued.

— A consultation? — Rengin appeared in the doorway. — Well? Will someone tell me what’s going on here? — she looked straight at Serhat.

He froze, searching her eyes.

— I wanted to discuss treatment strategy with the doctors. We disagree, — he stated.

— Dad, — Esra rolled her eyes and sank back against the pillow. — They haven’t even told you anything yet, and you’re already against it!

Rengin swept her gaze across them all.

— Then we’ll discuss it in the doctors’ lounge, — she decided at once, — not in the patient’s room.

— You’re hiding something from me! — Esra’s voice trembled.

— Sweetheart, — Bahar turned to her, — we’re not hiding anything. Your baby is fine, do you hear me? — she sat gently on the bed, her fingers closing softly around Esra’s wrist.

She silently counted her pulse while checking the monitors.

— Fetal heartbeat is normal, blood pressure stable, — Bahar said gently. — We check every half hour. Don’t worry, everything’s fine. Your father disagrees, but he’s always against something — you should be used to that by now, — she added calmly, doing her best to soothe her.

Yusuf’s eyes never left Bahar.

— Bahar! — Serhat snapped, and Yusuf’s gaze flew to him.

— Doctor Bahar! — Evren corrected sharply, not even looking at him. Yusuf’s brows shot up in surprise — so Evren demanded that form of address from everyone, not just him. — Don’t you raise your voice at her, Professor Serhat! — Evren stepped closer.

— Professor Evren, Professor Serhat, out of the room. Now, — Rengin ordered firmly.

Yusuf was stunned. It was the first time he’d seen Evren lose his composure. For once, he seemed alive, not just a mechanical figure repeating rehearsed lines. Evren reacted with intensity to everything concerning Bahar — Yusuf now knew that without doubt.

Bahar gently set Esra’s hand back on the bed and rose. She shot a sharp look first at Evren, then at Serhat.

— Doruk, please stay with her, — she said softly, and was the first to leave the room.

Evren hurried after her, Yusuf slipped along in his shadow, Serhat followed, and Rengin closed their small procession.

— Bahar, — Evren touched her elbow at last, — can you stay for a moment? — his fingers closed softly around her arm.

— I need to — her voice faltered as she looked at him. — I need to check, they’re already preparing the operating room, — she whispered.

Evren’s eyes widened, fixed on her, silent. Bahar too said nothing, not looking away. Her hand lifted, adjusting the collar of his coat; her fingers brushed against his chest, then instantly recoiled as if burned. Her heart skipped a beat.