Evren knew everything — and he respected her decision without question, without asking. She looked around, unable to hide the sharp longing to see him. One message from him, and she felt that hunger for his presence all over again. Why? Why did he do that — disappear, yet reappear in the most critical moment? Even now — just one message — and she could barely breathe.

Still, she inhaled breath. Bahar straightened and moved forward, though her
legs trembled under her. Her body obeyed, but her heart stayed back at the spot
where she opened his message.
She tried to persuade Çağla to go with her, but she refused. Initially, Bahar
sat beside her, but Çağla insisted that Bahar go to her children. She refused
to make her choose between them. Bahar agreed. She rose again and left without
looking back, her hand instinctively touching her chest, as if accepting that
tightness in her chest.

She considered visiting Rengin, but hearing Evren’s voice as she opened the
door to her office, she quietly closed it and turned away. She had no strength
left. She didn’t want to think — she just needed to go home, to her children, to
her grandchildren…

Evren stood near Rengin’s desk.
– She should be home with her children and grandchildren by now, not here! – he
declared, placing some documents on her desk. – I hope you won’t let her
operate today? She’s at her limit. Just like you.

Rengin closed her eyes briefly, rubbing her temple to emphasize her
fatigue. She silently picked up the folder and began reviewing the papers while
Evren paced in her office.

– You’re not ready to lose her, – she said, still studying the documents. –
You can act like a superhero, but you fear she may no longer choose you — and yet
you do nothing. And Bahar will do nothing more.

She snapped the folder shut and leaned back in her chair. Evren flinched
and turned toward her.

– What are you trying to say? – he demanded, seemingly confused.

– That both of you made mistakes—but only Bahar admits it. What about you?
– she confronted him bluntly.

– Is that easier for you—to deal with stress by attacking me? Must you
remind me again of how I’m nothing like Timur?

Rengin paled briefly.

– You’re not him, – she shook her head. – But you’re not better than he was
either. You can hide behind intellectual words — but notice this: you personally
brought me these documents when you could have left them. You’re finding a
reason to stay — because she’s still here.

– I’m here because we know why, – he retorted quietly.

– You can be unbearable at times, – she finally admitted, acknowledging his
difficult character. – What have you decided, Evren? I am recruiting staff,
starting a research program; we continue here as a teaching base, – she listed
off changes. – So if you leave now, you won’t even get to say goodbye. She’s
changing. And eventually — you’ll become part of her past.

– You’re not the one who should tell me this, – he replied, his tone
growing harsh.

– Then who should? Bahar? She won’t say it anymore. She’s stopped asking
you— will you stay or go? She is living on. What is your decision? – Rengin
walked to the window. – I’m not asking for your answer now. When you
decide — tell me yourself. In person.

Evren clenched his fists. He hated being backed into a corner — but that was
exactly how he felt. Yet no one was forcing him — he had maneuvered himself into
this situation. He understood everything Rengin said. Understood and
accepted — and said nothing. Anger churned inside him.

He was furious. He felt he might break something — or strike someone. And yet
the irony was — there was no one but himself to hold accountable. He alone was
responsible for this.

Evren answered his phone abruptly:

– I’m listening, – he said in one short phrase. Half-listening, he didn’t
even check who was calling.

Rengin, once he answered, immediately turned to him. She watched as his
expression shifted.

– Yes, I understand. I’ll arrive.

His voice was terse and suppressed; only his heavy breathing revealed the
internal struggle.

– Is that them? – Rengin gripped the chair’s arm.

Evren stepped over and helped her sit.

– Yes, – he handed her a glass of water.

– Then go, – her shaky hand brought the glass to her lips. – And
afterwards… come back, if you choose to.

Evren squeezed her hand for a moment. He looked toward the door—wondering
whether Bahar was behind it—or if she had already left… if he was too late.

He turned and walked out.

He never said what he decided—to leave or stay. Rengin sat alone in her
office, the beating of her heart loud in her ears. She understood clearly that
everything was about to change. And that there would be no going back to how it
used to be—though she no longer knew exactly what “before” meant anymore.

…This was in the past. Bahar stepped into the courtyard and looked at the
house. She imagined Umay gazing through the window, Parla perhaps holding a cup
without drinking. Uraz buried in his laptop, gently rocking little Leyla in his
arms. Siren dressing Mert. Gülçiçek whispering with Reha on the living‑room
sofa. And Nevra frozen in the center of the room, phone in hand.

She had left her family just like this. But now everything was different.
Now Yusuf was there too, and everyone looked at her, waiting for news. Bahar
wearily set her phone on the table and embraced her daughter, her son, Siren,
then Parla. She approached Nevra, squeezed her hand, rested on her shoulder for
a moment, then slipped into Gülçiçek’s comforting arms. They all stood in
silence, understanding. Then she asked everyone to go rest, even though there
were no new updates.

Bahar personally made sure there was enough space for everyone to sleep.
She even left Yusuf in the living room, not allowing him to leave.
– You’re with us now, understand? – she told him simply. – I’m not holding you
here, but please trust me. – She paused. – You’ll study. You’ll become a
doctor! It’s never too late. And there’s room here for everyone.

Yusuf lowered his head. He didn’t quite understand how he could walk into a
family and stay—especially during such a difficult time.
– But if… – he began.

– No ifs, – interrupted Bahar, handing over bedding. – Make your bed
yourself, please.

– You have enough on your shoulders already, – Yusuf whispered.

Bahar turned to him and smiled:
– Or maybe you came at exactly the moment we needed? – she asked. – Nobody
knows that ahead of time. So I see no reason to refuse. And here—with you—there
will be people to help: Professor Reha, Siren, Uraz, and me.

– You said Professor Evren would be my teacher, – Yusuf reminded her. – I’m
interested in transplantation... Mother— – he trailed off.

Bahar sighed:
– Professor Evren likely won’t be able to teach you—he’s leaving, – she finally
admitted aloud. – But there are other doctors in the hospital, – she smiled as
she stepped onto the bottom stair. – For example, starting tomorrow there’s a
new cardiologist joining us—Dr. Serhat Özer.

– Who? – Yusuf paled, holding the blanket close.

– Doesn’t cardiology interest you? – Bahar paused higher on the stairs. – A
girl was admitted today with congenital heart disease. She’s pregnant. Lives
are at stake—but these are also intriguing, rare cases, good for research.

Yusuf swallowed hard:
– So my teacher won’t be Evren Yalkyn?

Bahar sat on the step, visibly exhausted:
– I'll admit I praised Evren to you as a brilliant doctor—yes. He is a
brilliant doctor. But there are many excellent doctors. Let’s start
somewhere—look at the curriculum first. You can always return to
transplantation later. – she added, weary, rising with effort. – Yusuf, please
don’t force me to bring you back again and again—because I won’t give up on
you. Remember that. You sleep here tonight, and later we’ll figure out where
your room will be.

Her legs could barely hold her. Holding the railing, she slowly ascended
the stairs, feeling Yusuf’s gaze on her back. She could have said more—but not
tonight. She wanted a shower and her bed. In her room, she closed the door,
shed her clothes, and stepped into the warm shower. She let the water wash away
the day’s fatigue.

She watched the droplets slide down her skin, thinking how wonderful it
would be if it could wash away all her sad thoughts, all the misunderstandings.

She fought back memories of a different shower—when his hands had burned
her skin… so long ago, barely remembered... but no—she remembered it all.
Turning off the water, she wrapped in a towel. Looking in the mirror, she saw
in her mind his arms around her from behind, his lips touching her skin.

Her hand reached to her neck, where he used to kiss. Bahar smiled,
realizing she no longer felt sadness. She had finally accepted everything. She
dried off, hung the towel over the chair, put on her robe. She suddenly craved
coffee and fresh air. Approaching the window, she drew back the curtain. The
house slept—but she couldn’t lie down. She stood, gazing out, wanting coffee,
but remaining motionless.

She understood why she wanted it: they used to drink coffee, wrapped in
towels, post-shower, talking about everything... Speaking—they had forgotten
how to do that, at some point.

With a sigh, she was about to turn away—but the sound of a motorcycle
engine made her step back.

– Evren? – she whispered, peering out into the dark.

She spun and hurried toward the door. She didn’t know where such strength
came from, but she reached the front door so fast—unaware that her robe had
opened a bit and its tie was barely holding. She opened it just in time to
prevent a pounding knock.

– Bahar, – he exhaled, taking in her wet hair, hastily donned robe.

Her chest heaved heavily. With each inhale and exhale, her robe gaped
further, revealing more... but he didn’t just see—he remembered. Evren
remembered the softness of her body... and then, forcing himself, he lifted his
gaze to her face and swallowed.

– What? – she exhaled, leaning against the doorframe.

Evren remained silent. Bahar closed her eyes. She knew he wasn’t here for
her—not to visit—but to deliver news. He stood quietly, waiting for her to open
her eyes, to steady her breath. Only then did he slip a hand into his pocket
and gently place something in her open palm. He laid a watch in her palm. One
look was enough—she knew. She started to cry, covering her mouth, and he
immediately gathered her into his arms, holding her tightly.

They stood there in the doorway: her inside, him outside. He held her,
letting her withstand it all. He waited patiently as she buried her face in his
neck. She breathed in his warmth, his scent, absorbed his strength with every
fiber. He simply was there with her in that moment. His hand slid under her
robe, through her hair—but it wasn’t intimate. He was just by her.

Slowly, reluctantly, she pulled away. And he allowed it, barely, staring
into her eyes as if unable to tear away.

– You’ll come in? – she asked quietly.

He nodded and stepped inside. She stepped back, he closed the door behind
him. She turned and headed to the kitchen, hearing his footsteps close behind.
It was the most comforting, precious sound in the world after so many months.

Evren glanced over at the living room and frowned. He saw a young man on
the sofa — unexpected, confusing — but he forgot about him the moment he saw
her standing in the kitchen, unsure. He found her hand, and their fingers
interlaced. He guided her to the small sofa and seated her there.

– I’ll make us coffee, – he whispered. His lips brushed the top of her
head.

It felt automatic, natural—and Bahar didn’t react. She stared blankly,
disconnected. One question revolved in her mind: what happens now? What?

She watched him moving in her kitchen. He knew where everything was, what
coffee she preferred. But he felt different. She sensed it—but couldn’t even
explain it. Everything was different. She watched silently, clutching the
stopped watch in her hand: time had frozen for him—but not for them.

Evren sat down beside her, shifted closer. He was ready to hold her—but
stopped when their gazes met. She simply breathed, looking at him.

– Everything will be okay, – he whispered, gently brushing her hair.

She shook her head:
– Nothing will be like before now, – she replied softly.

– Unless... – he agreed.

Her eyebrows lifted slightly:
– How’s that? – she leaned toward him gently.

He followed, pressing his forehead to hers. They hadn’t been this close in
so long—but a weightier reason lay between them now.

– How will I tell the children? – she continued.

– You’re not alone, – Evren whispered, breath warm on her cheek.

– That’s exactly it—I’ve always been alone, – she admitted, hands on his
shoulders.

In one hand she gripped the stopped watch from her late husband, and with
the other she pressed his shoulder, seeking solidity—but couldn’t find it. His
hand slipped beneath hers.

– Bahar, please don’t say that, – he implored, cupping her face.

– But it’s the truth, Evren. I’m so tired... – she confessed. – Very tired.

He held her gaze:
– I understand. It won’t be easy. It will be hard... – he whispered.

She nodded:
– You think I fear challenges? – she asked with soft irony. – All I ever do is
handle them, – she smiled faintly and exhaled. – I’ve practically managed — when
you left my life, – she said looking into his eyes, breath brushing his lips.

He startled, swallowed hard, staring into her eyes:
– I’m going to America, – he suddenly said.

…When she heard those words, her hands slipped off his shoulders…

To be continued...