Sunlight struck her face the moment she stepped out of the cab. She lowered her sunglasses, shielding her eyes as if they could hide all the sorrow and worry. Everything that had troubled her recently rushed past her mind’s eye at lightning speed. Too much weighed down her delicate shoulders. Taking a deep breath, she straightened and walked along the row of swaying yachts.

She wanted to untie the knot of her thin scarf, take off her beret, undo a couple of buttons on her blouse, shrug off her blazer—maybe even take off her shoes to feel the warm pier beneath her toes—but she just walked, the clack of her heels drowned out by the cries of the gulls.

Waves crashed against the breakwater, as if the sea itself was reminding her that everything around her was alive… but was she? Bahar stopped. Was she alive? She closed her eyes and lifted her head to the sky, studying the whimsical clouds scattered lazily by the creator. The world seemed to pause as she stood there, head tilted back, staring into the boundless blue. All sounds faded. She heard only her heartbeat, pulsing in her temples, vibrating through her body. She was alive.

Bahar’s lips trembled into a smile. Her hand rose, fingers deftly loosening the scarf knot, and the breeze caught the delicate fabric, pulling it from her shoulders. She removed her beret; a couple of habitual motions and her hair tumbled down. Loose, light strands danced in the wind, one teasing her face. Her smile widened as she bent down briefly, then straightened, closing her eyes, letting her bare feet absorb the sun-warmed stone.

She wanted it—so she did it. She smiled broadly. No one and nothing would dictate her actions anymore. No more pushing herself aside. She was thinking of herself, her desires, what she wanted—not anyone else.

With her shoes in one hand and beret in the other, she walked forward and stopped beside a familiar yacht. She had been on it twice. He had always helped her aboard, steadying her. He wasn’t here now, but she didn’t need him to be. Bahar smiled.

"Aunt Bahar," came Cem’s soft voice from behind.

"Cem," Bahar turned, smiling at the young man.

"Mom," Umay stood beside him, her voice edged with tension. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, sweetheart," she whispered. "Don’t worry. We’ll be fine."

"Everything you asked for," Cem handed her a bag.

"Thank you, dear," Bahar said, glancing behind them.

"Mom—" Umay began, but Bahar quickly stepped forward and hugged her tightly.

"It’s okay, my love, it’s okay. You’re grown now. Grandma will be with you," she whispered, stroking her daughter’s back. "Uraz and Seren are home," she added, straightening and brushing Umay’s hair back. She looked at Cem. "Help me, Cem—but quietly."

"Won’t Evren mind?" he asked softly, frowning. "He’s been off lately. Anxious."

"The sea will calm him," Bahar muttered, lips tightening as she stepped onto the rocking yacht.

Just for a second, doubt flickered—was this the right thing to do? But only for a second. The next moment, she stood on the yacht as Cem untied the rope.

She swallowed hard. Last time, she had done this with Evren. She hadn’t even known what to do next.

"Bags," Cem said, placing them on the deck and hopping back onto the pier.

"Mom," Umay’s concern spiked as she saw Bahar clutch her chest and her shoes hit the deck with a thud.

"I won’t get seasick," Bahar whispered to herself. "I won’t."

"I’m fine," she said aloud, clearing her throat.

"How long will you be gone?" Umay asked. "Why are you leaving?"

"We’re leaving?" came Evren’s groggy voice.

Bahar turned immediately, studying him. Dark circles, sunken cheeks—but at least he had slept. That comforted her.

"Yes. I’m taking you away," she said quickly. "And yes, take the wheel, because I have no idea what to do next."

"What?" he blinked, still foggy.

"We’re already at sea, Evren. Wake up," she said, stepping toward him, grabbing his shoulders. "Evren, take the helm, my love."

His eyes lit up, hands settling on her waist, holding her firmly, never breaking eye contact.

"Are they still watching?" he asked softly.

"They will if you don’t do something, darling," she nodded toward the helm. "There’s food. I’m taking you—or you’re taking me. Do something, Evren," she pleaded, clutching his shirt.

"I can," his gaze dropped to her lips. "I want to," he licked his lips.

"Honey," she pressed close, her cheek brushing his. "If you don’t take the wheel now, we won’t leave, and this will go on forever—there will always be someone…" she whispered against his cheek.

"Bahar," his hands trembled.

"You promised to tame me to the sea," she reminded.

"Now?" he touched her chin.

"Any objections?" she met his gaze, still clinging to him, aware that Umay and Cem were watching from the pier—her faithful helpers, her team.

"I’ll kiss you in front of them," he muttered, cracking his neck as if to distract himself.

Her eyes widened, gaze fixed on his lips. She nodded.

"The helm, love," she whispered. "If only I could."

"I’ll teach you," he said, hand sliding down to intertwine fingers with hers.

"Lead me," she whispered. "I’ll recover and—" she swallowed.

"Look far ahead," he breathed.

"The horizon line," she nodded, eyes still on his lips.

"Just you and me?" he asked, as if only now realizing what she had planned.

"Cem helped. Everything’s in order. We can sail," she nodded, closing her eyes.

"No," Evren shook her. "Look ahead."

His forehead brushed hers before he turned, grabbed the bags from the deck, and pulled her along.

He sat her beside him, his arm over her shoulders, steering confidently, watching her, occasionally nodding for her to keep her gaze on the horizon.

"I don’t want to lose you," he whispered. "It would be too cruel."

She nodded, eyes closed. She didn’t want to spend their entire trip, planned in just a few hours, lying in bed. Her hand rested on his knee.

"Sweetheart?" Evren looked at her.

"I’m okay," she smiled.

"You never stop surprising me," he admitted.

She raised an eyebrow slightly. The nausea passed as quickly as it had come. She looked at him, envying his sense of freedom.

"Just a sec," she tried to stand, using his knee for support.

"Where?" he frowned, watching her face.

"You can’t," she smiled. "Don’t worry," her lips brushed his cheek as she rose.

"Bahar," his eyes flicked between the helm and her face.

"Darling," she ran a hand through his hair. "I’ll be right back. I’ve got this. Don’t worry."

"You scare me," he admitted.

"Trust me," she laughed and left.

She went below deck. Bahar threw open the doors and entered the bedroom. His sacred space. Immaculate order, not a single out-of-place item. Strangely, she didn’t feel like an intruder. She felt free to do as she wished. She opened the wardrobe.

Perfectly pressed T-shirts, trousers, shorts. She shifted the hangers, biting her lip. No doubt in her actions. She decisively pulled out a black T-shirt.

Yes—she took off her blouse, hung it neatly, and placed it in the closet. She knew his shirts would now carry her scent. She pulled his T-shirt over her head, breathing in his smell, and removed her trousers. Now in just her underwear and his shirt, she finally felt a sliver of the freedom she longed for.

She walked barefoot on the deck, her hair tousled by the breeze. Eyes closed, she tilted her face to the sun. She knew he was at the helm, watching her every move. Bahar spread her arms like a bird on the stern of his yacht, the wind wrapping around her.

"I love you," his lips brushed her earlobe before his hands closed around her waist, pulling her into him.

"Did you take us far enough?" the question slipped from her lips.

"No one will burst in, no one will interrupt," he murmured, nuzzling her cheek.

Bahar slowly turned in his arms and hugged him.

"Good thing you have a yacht," she whispered, her lips brushing his.

He almost kissed her but stopped.

"No one else drives yachts?" he asked.

Bahar laughed, pressing into him.

"I’ll throw overboard anyone who tries," her fingers touched his collar, and in the next moment, she unbuttoned it.

"I’ll help," Evren exhaled, his lips claiming hers.

She never quite figured out what exactly he meant—to help throw someone overboard, or help undress her. Or himself. They kissed on the stern under the setting sun, unafraid of being interrupted again.