…That silence was eating him alive. The fear of ending up in prison had morphed into a wild urge to do something. Outside, the sun was already sliding toward the zenith, painting the Bosphorus in shades of orange. Some yachts hurried out so as not to miss the sunset; others were making their way back to the docks. Everything around them moved — and they just sat there.

Cem jumped to his feet, unable to watch Yusuf pour himself yet another cup of tea, making a toast to himself and to Cem. He flung the plate aside; it hit the wall, shattered on the floor. The toast landed on top of the shards, butter side down.

Yusuf set the cup on the table, while Cem began pacing the apartment, grabbing things at random — some went into the backpack, some he tossed aside. He didn’t care that he was trashing the place, destroying Evren’s usual order. Evren’s — the name curled in a bitter smile on his lips. Everything belonged to someone, except him. He was the extra piece. Fine. He’d spare everyone his presence.

— What are you doing? — Yusuf asked carefully.

— Packing my things and leaving, — Cem’s voice was too sharp.

— Where to? — Yusuf got up from his chair.

— Doesn’t matter, — Cem muttered, shoving a phone charger and earbuds into his backpack. — I can’t stay here anymore. I can’t! — He stuffed in a T-shirt, crumpling it without a thought. — Evren’s silent, he’s not coming, he doesn’t care! No messages, no calls! This place is like a morgue! — he shouted, breaking apart.

Yusuf came around the table:

— Ever been in a morgue? — he asked.

Cem didn’t even hear him:

— Looks like they’ve already decided everything — without me!

— No one’s kicking you out, — Yusuf kept his tone calm. — We’re just waiting. And waiting is always hard. I know that.

— I don’t want them deciding how to get rid of me! — Cem yelled. — I’ll leave on my own! I don’t want to see Evren’s look — I get it, I get everything! — he spat the words with fury. — And Bahar? Where is she? Why won’t anyone tell me what’s going to happen?

Cem yanked open the wardrobe, tore a jacket off the hanger. Grabbing his sneakers, he dropped one, then kicked it hard.

Yusuf had to step aside so it wouldn’t hit him — the sneaker bounced off the window without breaking it, thudded to the floor.

— You’re not going anywhere, — Yusuf said quietly. — You’re not leaving this place.

Cem froze, stopped pacing, stopped packing. Then he turned toward Yusuf:

— You can’t stop me! — Cem gave a crooked smile and slung the backpack over his left arm.

— I can, — Yusuf’s voice was firm. — Because I promised Bahar. And because if you walk out that door now — it’s over.

— It’s already over! — Cem exploded.

— No. Over is when you’re dead. That’s when you can’t fix anything anymore. But as long as you’re alive, breathing — there’s always a way out. Always. And you do want to fix it — — Yusuf nodded — — but you’re afraid they won’t forgive you. So you want to run. From yourself, from people, from the police? You planning to run your whole life?

Cem dropped the backpack on the floor:

— I don’t know what it’s like to be wanted, — he burst out. — You don’t have parents either, but they want you? Why did they choose you and not me?! — he shouted.

— I have a father, — Yusuf hesitated, — a biological father. And no, he doesn’t want me. That’s his choice, and I accept it. I don’t force myself into his life, even though I know who he is and where he lives, — he admitted. — And you’ll never know, if you leave. But if you stay, then little by little — through the pain, through the silence — you might find out. They never threw you out. You ran.

— And how did it help you — knowing you had a father but never going to him? — Cem stared at him, bewildered. — Why didn’t you go when your mom died?

— It’s not pride, — Yusuf shrugged. — It’s acceptance, you understand? Not because I wouldn’t want to, but because he knows I exist, and still chooses not to be part of my life. And that’s his right.

Cem looked down, embarrassed, then simply sank to the floor, wrapping his arms around his knees. The memory hit him hard — everything he’d done now felt like he’d been imposing himself on Evren… maybe he had. Back then too, he’d run — run because he’d made a mistake and went looking for protection from an older brother who knew about him, but hadn’t chosen to be with him.

— He won’t come, — Cem whispered, shivering.

— He will. And you don’t need to break down the door he’ll open himself, — Yusuf sat down on the armrest of the couch. — You’re trying to run, but you’re waiting for someone to stop you. Cem, I’m stopping you. You’re not alone.

Cem gave him one quick look and dropped his head again… and once more, the room sank into silence — a heavy, suffocating wait.

***

…Everyone was silent when Evren walked into that heavy hush of waiting. All of Bahar’s family turned toward him — they had clearly hoped to see her, not him. Well… they would have to get used to it.

Gülçiçek sat on the couch, nervously wringing her hands, Nevra beside her. Siren was absorbed in something on her tablet. Parla stayed close to Umay. Uraz twitched when he saw him, but Evren, ignoring the look, went straight to Gülçiçek.

— The surgery went without complications, — he told her. — Professor Reha is already in the ICU under observation. Professor Serhat will be out to see you soon.

Gülçiçek burst into tears, pressing a handkerchief to her face. Nevra flapped her hands at her in a fuss. The others stayed quiet, as if taking a moment to grasp the meaning of his words.

— Evren was in the operating room, — Siren was the first to recover.

Uraz pressed his lips together, glaring at him.

— What gave you the right? — Uraz snapped. — Who even asked you to be there?

— Uraz! — Siren gave a small shake of her head, trying to stop her husband.

— Siren, — Evren turned to her — please.

He paid no attention to Uraz’s anger.

— Umay, — he looked to Bahar’s daughter.

— Looking for their support, are you? — Uraz raised his voice. — You’re not our family!

— Uraz! — Siren and Umay said at the same time.

— Room 357, third floor, left wing, — Evren continued calmly. — Çağla’s there. Bahar’s still busy; someone should be with her. She’s waking up from anesthesia.

— What’s wrong with her? — Umay cried, jumping up from the couch.

Parla followed, an unintentional shadow to her half-sister.

— What about Çağla? — Siren asked in a whisper.

— Later, — Evren said shortly. — Please, I’ll stay here. I’ll switch with you afterward.

— You’re not our relative, — Uraz stepped closer. — Go home to your Naz — that’s your family!

Siren and Umay froze. Parla gave Uraz a frightened glance. Nevra looked up briefly but didn’t move from Gülçiçek’s side, handing her a glass of water when she saw the color drain from her face.

Evren ignored Uraz completely and turned back to Gülçiçek. His brow furrowed when he saw her expression, and he moved toward her at once.

— Ay — the glass slipped from her hands as she clutched her chest.

Everyone rushed to her at once, crowding around.

— Grandma! — Umay shouted.

— Grandma, what’s wrong? — Uraz’s voice was uncertain now.

— Step back, all of you, — Evren commanded, kneeling in front of her. He caught her wrist, feeling her pulse. — Give her air. Breathe, Mrs. Gülçiçek, just breathe. Your husband is fine — now calm yourself so you don’t end up in the bed next to his.

His voice was firm, and she looked at him, still holding her chest, and began breathing with him.

— It’s all right, — he almost smiled. — Just overstrain, — he didn’t let go of her wrist. — Your husband’s fine. You’re fine.

— Thank you, Evren, — Gülçiçek exhaled.

She was still pale, but her breathing had steadied. Siren drew Uraz toward the wall, looking ready to strike him, while he still tried to argue.

— He lives with Naz! What’s he doing here? — Uraz growled.

— I’m here not because I’m part of your family, but because Bahar asked me to be, because she’d have done the same, — Evren took the glass of water from Umay and handed it to Gülçiçek before rising to his feet. — Because I want to be here, with you. Umay, Siren — Çağla — I don’t want her to wake up alone, — he paused, then added, — and Bahar wouldn’t want that either.

He said no more. Evren stepped to the window, hands in his pockets. He stood a little apart, but everyone was in his line of sight — he could step in at any moment.

Uraz, fists clenched, was breathing hard by the opposite wall, his lips white with anger, but he made no more attempts to throw him out. Siren, Umay, and Parla went to Çağla after hugging and kissing Gülçiçek on both cheeks. Nevra folded her hands quietly in her lap, watching it all. Evren noticed the sadness in her eyes — and how much she had changed. This was the woman who had so profoundly shaped his life… because if it hadn’t been for her, he would never have ended up in the orphanage.

***

…Bahar seemed to have forgotten about her home, her family, the entire world. Her universe had shrunk to a single cell. In the embryology lab, the faint hum of the equipment filled the air. She and the embryologist stood beside the softly lit incubator, gazing at it with microscopic hope.

Bahar wore a sterile gown. She stood just behind the embryologist, careful not to get in his way, even breathing more quietly so as not to disturb him. She watched as his eyes moved between the microscope and the monitor, then back again.

She knew she could have left — this wasn’t her responsibility — but she couldn’t bring herself to walk away. She needed to see this life with her own eyes. Not for a second would she allow herself to doubt that it had worked.

— Temperature? — she whispered at last.

— Thirty-seven, — the embryologist replied without looking up. — The medium is close to natural. pH — stable.

Bahar instinctively took a step forward. With her hands in the pockets of her gown, she couldn’t keep the tremor from her fingers. She stared at the monitor, unblinking, then let out a breath and held it again as a dot appeared on the screen.

— She’s alive, — the embryologist breathed, and after a pause, his voice grew triumphant. — She’s dividing. One hundred twenty-eight cells. It’s begun. Expanded blastocyst stage. She’s stable!

Bahar drew in a deep, full breath, closing her eyes for a moment, her eyelids trembling. It wasn’t even relief — it was that dangerous, fragile hope she was almost afraid to believe in.

— She chose life, — Bahar whispered.

The embryologist turned to her with a look of respect — not as a doctor, but as someone who had just witnessed a miracle, who had touched it with his own hands.

— Transfer tomorrow, — he murmured. — If she holds, we’ll try.

— She already has a name, — a tear slid down Bahar’s cheek, — but she doesn’t know it yet. Just hold on. I’m here.

The embryologist turned back to the monitor, and together they watched the shimmering, pulsing core. He could have said it was only a cluster of cells, but Bahar knew — there was already someone there… someone fiercely clinging to life.

***

…Persistence — that had always been Çağla’s defining trait. Always strong, active, full of laughter… but now she was nothing like herself. A little lost, pale, she lay on the bed with her eyes closed, hands pressed to her stomach. The moment Siren, Umay, and Parla entered the room, she opened her eyes to see who it was — then shut them again when she realized it wasn’t who she’d been hoping for.

Umay pulled a chair closer to the bed. Parla stepped over to the window and switched on her phone. Siren picked up the medical chart and began to read, her fingers trembling as she turned the pages.

— How are you? — Umay asked softly. — Want some water?

— Not yet, — Siren intervened before Çağla could answer. — Better just moisten her lips. In about two hours, small sips will be fine. How are you feeling? — she now asked directly.

Çağla’s gaze fixed on her, then dropped to the chart in Siren’s hands.

— A little dizzy, — she whispered, watching Siren set the file down on the side table.

— That’s the anesthesia, — Siren replied, eyeing her with a trace of wariness.

— Is it something serious? — Umay’s voice held worry. — What surgery was it? And where’s Mom?

— I want to see your mom too, — Çağla licked her dry lips. — When will she come? Why is she gone so long?

Umay turned toward Siren, but she was already wetting a napkin. Passing it to Umay, she let her dab Çağla’s lips.

— We’ll all wait for Bahar together, — Siren murmured, pulling another chair close. — She’ll come, — she tried to smile.

She sat beside Umay. Parla glanced up from her phone, then buried herself in it again.

— Are you… pregnant? — Umay asked quietly.

Çağla gave a choked little sob and bit her lip to stop the tears. Siren shot Umay a warning look, willing her to be quiet, and squeezed Çağla’s hand. At Umay’s question, Parla instantly put down her phone and came closer.

— I was, — Çağla admitted. — I hope… I still am.

— What do you mean? — Parla asked, looking to Siren, who lowered her head to avoid her gaze.

Now Siren’s eyes met Parla’s in silent plea for her to stop. Çağla closed her eyes again, still keeping her hands over her belly. Umay turned to Siren, silently asking for answers; Siren’s eyes gave her only one reply — not now.

— You’re not alone, — Umay whispered once that wordless exchange was over, though her curiosity still burned.

— We’re your family, — Siren added with a nod, though Çağla couldn’t see it.

— We’re all here, — Parla finished with a small shrug. She didn’t really understand any more than Umay did, but she was trying to be supportive.

— Thank you, — Çağla whispered back. — Let Bahar come soon, — there was pleading in her voice.

Umay leaned down to smooth her hair. She understood that Tolga was gone for good, just like her father… and if Çağla had lost her child, it would be a double blow.

Yes, this was nothing like the Çağla they knew. Before them now lay a woman who had put her life on pause — frozen in mute anticipation. Only Bahar could give her hope. Only Bahar could say that one word that would allow her to move forward. Just a simple “yes” would be enough. Siren understood this, though the girls couldn’t guess what was happening inside Çağla’s soul.

Parla twirled her hair around her finger, the phone forgotten. Umay pressed her palm to Çağla’s cheek. And only Siren was trying to grasp exactly what Bahar had done — and what she was doing now. She understood Çağla all too well, because she herself was now listening for every sound outside the door, hoping to hear the familiar rhythm of her footsteps…

***

The echo of her footsteps bounced off the corridor walls. She had grown used to pacing the floors lately — it calmed her somehow. Especially after Timur’s death. Rengin couldn’t quite explain to herself why she did it. Maybe she wanted to imagine Timur stepping out from around the corner. Maybe, without meaning to, she kept waiting for him to appear out of nowhere.

She knew perfectly well that it would never happen, but still she wandered, remembering their meetings, their conversations. Their whole life had played out in this hospital. At first, they had kept their relationship a secret because Timur was married to Bahar — and later, there had been no need to hide anything. Yet everything had still become unclear, to both of them, as if it had ended with his divorce from Bahar… and now there was Serhat.

Her steps faltered. She swallowed hard. What had she let herself do? She had never acted this way before — it wasn’t like her at all. More like a spell she couldn’t shake… like now. First she saw him coming from around the corner, then heard the heavy thud of his steps — as if he was holding something back inside… and she knew now that he was.

She wanted to flatten herself against the wall so he wouldn’t notice her… but he did. Their eyes met, and both froze just a few steps apart.

— Good evening, — he greeted briefly, looking away, his hands sliding into his pockets.

— It’s already evening, — she coughed, surprised at how rough her voice sounded, and lowered her gaze.

— I was just going to check on a patient — Professor Reha, — he explained, fiddling pointlessly with a shirt button.

— I was heading to him too, — she tried to keep her tone steady, feeling her palms grow damp.

They fell silent, neither knowing how to continue. Rengin adjusted her hair, then, not knowing what else to do, shoved her hands into her coat pockets. Serhat’s gaze flicked one way, then the other, as if he couldn’t decide whether to walk past her or say something more.

Maybe they would have stayed like that if Bahar hadn’t nearly run into them when the door swung open. She stopped short, barely half a step away.

— What? — she asked, one sharp word, looking from one to the other.

Her eyes darted to Reha’s room — they were both standing near it. Only one question flickered there.

— Is everything all right? — she demanded, as if urging them to answer quickly, too pressed for time to be tactful.

— Just ran into each other, — Serhat shrugged. — I was going to see the professor.

— Coincidence, — Rengin said almost at the same time. — Me too.

Bahar’s gaze moved from Rengin to Serhat. Her lips trembled slightly, but she held back whatever she wanted to say.

— Professor Serhat, since you’re going to Reha, I’ll go to Çağla, — she blurted.

Serhat gave a small nod and started moving at once, as if he’d been unable — or unwilling — to before. Bahar glanced once at Rengin, then hurried in the opposite direction, stopping at the door to the stairwell. She turned back.

— You all right? — she asked, opening the door.

— Yes, — Rengin answered too quickly. — And you? Çağla?

Bahar only shook her head and disappeared through the door.

Rengin exhaled, pressing her palms to her burning cheeks. She spun on her heel and headed the other way — anywhere but toward Reha’s room and his attending physician.

***

— Just because he’s a doctor doesn’t mean I have to wait for him! — Cem’s anger surged again, and he kicked his backpack.

Yusuf looked at him but said nothing. The truth was, they had been waiting far too long — nearly a day without a call, without a message, as if everyone had forgotten them.

— So how does it feel? — Cem challenged, glaring at him. — When you’re forgotten. When no one remembers you. I hate it, — he spat, his voice low with bitterness.

— What, or who? — came Evren’s voice from the doorway.

He hadn’t stepped inside — just stood there, looking straight into Cem’s eyes…