Bahar was silent. She didn’t know what they should do next. How to stop the chain of events Cem had set in motion. If, after Naz’s video, she had still been able to somehow build a dialogue with him, now… and yet she hadn’t turned away from him, she simply couldn’t.

– He’s lost, – she whispered into her folded hands. – He’s like a little boy, seeking validation, and when he doesn’t get it, he makes mistakes.

– We have a dual transplant surgery coming up, – reminded Rengin as she stood up, – and you’re saying he’s lost? What else could he possibly do?

Bahar slowly stood and nodded. She didn’t even notice the vibration in her pocket. The soft, weightless sound of a message, like the flutter of a butterfly wing, didn’t break into their consciousness.

– We can go through with the surgery, no matter what, – Bahar stuffed her hands into her pockets.

– And after that? – Rengin stood facing her.

– We fight, – she sighed. – Prove we’re good doctors.

– Bahar, Cem showed us in the worst possible light. He exposed how we break protocols, – she reminded her and headed to the door. – A stranger in your OR, in street clothes—should I mention that the heart was open?

– Sometimes you have to break protocols to save a life, – Bahar followed her.

– You’re not even sorry? – slipped from Rengin’s lips.

– Sorry for what? That Evren saved Esra? The daughter of our new cardiac surgeon? – she shot back. – No, I’m not sorry, and I’d break those protocols again.

– You people will drive me insane, – Rengin snapped. – And then I’ll be the one answering for all of you in court?

They walked down the hallway, not even realizing where they were going—just walking.

– We save lives, you take the heat, – Bahar pointed out calmly. – This is a hospital. We’re doctors. It’s our job to save lives.

– And helping each other isn’t part of that? – Rengin gave her a sidelong glance.

– Right now, we need to figure out the protection issue, – she reminded her. – If Cem could do it, any other programmer can too.

– Hacker, – Rengin corrected. – He’s a hacker! And wasn’t it his fault Evren got hurt? And now he’s the one dealing another blow?

Bahar turned pale. That’s exactly how it had happened. Last time, Cem’s actions had led to tragedy, and now it was all repeating itself—only the stakes were even higher.

– Evren doesn’t know yet, – Bahar stumbled but kept her balance, – we’ll handle it…

***

– She was holding on, – came Serhat’s harsh voice. – Esra’s heart had been weaker than normal since birth, but she managed. We adapted. Support, adjustments to her therapy – we managed! Do you even have the slightest idea what that’s like?

– She’s holding on thanks to IVs and meds, living in constant fear. You know that, Serhat. That’s not living, – Evren stood across from him. – That’s waiting for the end.

Rengin and Bahar quickened their pace, straining to hear the raised voices. Rengin kept glancing back, afraid the council observer might appear. The last thing they needed was for him to witness a clash between two lead surgeons – that would surely jeopardize Aliye’s operation.

– Any transplant is a gamble, – Serhat pressed on. – And you know it, Evren! Rejection, complications, infections, back to the ICU again and again...

– I’m not saying it’ll be easy, – Evren calmly faced him. – But I saw it – that heart has nothing left to give! – he nearly jabbed his finger at Serhat’s chest. – I held it in my hands, – his voice was firm, certain. – You’re a father, and you’re stalling, I get it – he nodded.

– You don’t get it! – Serhat shouted. – Because you gave up the chance to be a father!

– Because she told me it was you who was the father of that child! – Evren’s voice rose. – She said it was you. That you were the father!

Serhat went pale. His chest heaved, sweat appeared on his forehead.

– And she told me it was you, – he didn’t believe Evren, but quickly brushed it aside – reality mattered more than the past. – A child, – a bitter smirk twisted his lips. – She’s carrying a child, – he grabbed his head, turning away. – I was always against it, against her pregnancy. I begged you both to terminate it, – he turned and stepped closer to Evren, – just like you did, remember? I begged her. We both did. History’s repeating itself, only this time – it’s not just some girl we were fooling around with. It’s my daughter, Evren! My daughter!

– We’ve all made mistakes – you and I. The past can’t be undone, – Evren’s voice softened. – I wouldn’t be interfering if I didn’t believe she had a chance. A real one! And so do you – a chance to live a life next to your daughter, – he grabbed his shoulders and shook him lightly, trying to reach him – close, Serhat, close, not just in pictures!

– Evren, stop, – Bahar tried to touch his hand, but he didn’t see her or hear her, and her fingers slipped from his elbow.

– Serhat, – Rengin was still glancing over her shoulder, – calm down.

– You talk like you know her better than I do. Like a heart is just a pump. That’s my daughter! – Serhat ignored Rengin. – Immunosuppression in her state? It could kill them both! Mother and child!

– Sometimes, to save someone, you have to stop being just a parent. You have to become a doctor, – Evren couldn’t be stopped. – Serhat, be a doctor!

– Quiet! – Rengin begged. She saw Adem Yurdakul’s cold stare in every shadow.

– Calm down, – Bahar pulled at Evren.

The men didn’t react to them at all. It was like they didn’t see them, didn’t hear them.

– I’ve seen too many patients lose themselves. Change, – Evren said bitterly, not hiding his pain. – As if their old heart takes their memories with it. I’m afraid of losing her – even if she survives. She won’t be my daughter anymore!

– You’re not afraid of the transplant, – Evren realized. – You’re afraid she’ll become someone else. But you don’t get to decide for her.

– Like we both did once? – Serhat shot back. – You and I both decided, we turned our backs on her, sent her to get an abortion! Have you ever wondered – did she go through with it or give birth? You don’t have any children? You sure about that, Evren? Sure she didn’t have that baby? Yours or mine?

Bahar went pale at Serhat’s words. Everything inside her clenched. It was like a blow from the past. A child, shared between them – was there one or not? What were they talking about? A girl… an abortion...

And she couldn’t help but think of their own child, the one she’d had to give up. And now Serhat was bringing up Evren’s past – events that didn’t match the Evren she thought she knew. We’ll live through mine, he had said, and now she realized they truly were living through his. Evren’s past had caught up with them.

– Serhat, – Bahar touched his hand, – please, stop. We don’t need a scandal right now. Evren, – she turned to him, – not now. You’ll talk later, you’ll decide about Esra later. Right now we all need rest. We’re under watch. Hear me! – her voice rose.

Evren saw Bahar touching Serhat’s elbow, saw her hand brush against his. It boiled something inside him. Just an hour ago, Serhat had blamed him for everything – and yet the guilt was shared. He didn’t even realize Bahar had heard everything, or if she had, what she understood. What angered him most was that she was touching them both. A tremor ran through him. He would not allow, would never allow, Serhat to touch Bahar. No. Never.

– You think you can just check off a box – and that’s it? – Serhat’s voice had quieted, but it pierced Evren’s mind. – What if the heart doesn’t match? – that question made Evren lift his eyes from Bahar’s fingers on Serhat’s elbow to meet Serhat’s gaze. – What if she doesn’t make it? You didn’t hold her hand when she was gasping for air!

– Serhat, – Bahar was ready to hug him if that’s what it took to calm him down.

– I held others. I buried patients we didn’t make the list for – because someone hesitated. Because doctors were paralyzed by fear… or their past, – Evren didn’t stop, but his voice was quieter now, no longer strained.

He suddenly understood there was nothing to be ashamed of. Everyone standing there had a past. Rengin, Bahar, Serhat… and himself. He knew theirs. Now they knew his. And that was okay. Let them know – maybe it was right that they did.

– You’re just not ready to let go of the Esra you used to know, – Evren continued, – and she ran from you to Bahar. Yes. I was wrong, – he admitted. – Just like you were. But now the stakes are higher – her life is on the line, Serhat. Not your guilt. Not mine. That moment taught us a lot: you built a family, and I ran from one, – he confessed. – I’m talking about her chance! A chance for her and the daughter she might raise with you – or leave you with a granddaughter but without her. So what will you choose, Serhat?

– Evren?! – Bahar trembled. She was ready to embrace him if it would calm him down. Never, never had she heard him speak with such pain.

– You’re choosing again! Forcing others to choose! – Serhat cried out. – But that doesn’t make you right. You were wrong, – he agreed, – and what if you’re wrong now? What if you make the same mistake again?

Evren clenched his jaw. He had been wrong before, more than once. Yes, he had chosen for others… and most importantly, for them – for Bahar. That had been his mistake. He saw it now. But why did everything have to come at such a cost? Why, when she stood up from that table, had he only felt sorry for himself and blamed her? He had no answers.

Bahar and Rengin stepped between them at the same time, separating them. Bahar ended up in front of Serhat, and Rengin in front of Evren. Together, gently but firmly, they pushed them apart.

– We need to breathe, – Bahar whispered, – please, Serhat, come with me.

– You need to calm down, Evren, – echoed Rengin.

Bahar took Serhat’s arm, and they headed to the terrace. Rengin led Evren toward her office. The men walked beside them. They weren’t being led – they had released what had built up, and in doing so, had drawn a line. It wasn’t peace. It wasn’t agreement. But it was a space where work could happen. Where the stakes were different – both personal and professional.

The plane was getting closer by the minute, carrying a dying girl whose life they had vowed to save – if only they could become a team in time.

***

…They didn’t look like a team at all. Each was on their own. Lost in their thoughts, their ambitions. And there was catastrophically little time left before the surgery.

Bahar led Serhat out onto the terrace and immediately let go of his arm, slowing her pace just slightly. She walked a step behind him. Serhat made his way to the railing. There, he stopped and leaned forward, resting his hands on the edge. He stood with his eyes closed, trying to steady his breathing. The breeze lifted the hem of his coat slightly. She stepped closer and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

– Serhat, you know her myocardial contractility is almost at its limit, – Bahar said quietly and turned to face him. – We’re keeping her stable with medication.

She had slipped into informal speech without even noticing. It came naturally. She leaned back against the railing. His gaze was fixed on the horizon, while she studied the hospital windows. Behind each pane was a patient with their own story, their own fears. They could heal the body, but the soul was another matter. So many were scarred, broken. Bahar sighed. Serhat and Evren had just torn open their own wounds, but she didn’t want to think about what she’d heard – not yet. All she knew was that Evren had a past beyond his difficult childhood.

– So you mean it’s not forever, – Serhat replied.

His breathing had nearly calmed. He wiped the sweat from his brow and straightened up, slipping his hands into his pockets. He simply stood there now – composed, unmoving – as if ready to hear whatever she might say. But what role was he wearing this time: father, doctor, colleague, stranger?

– You know the truth yourself, – Bahar continued the conversation about Evren, but paused to let him process it, giving him time. – For the fetus to be viable, we need at least six more weeks.

– And what are you suggesting? – he flinched and turned toward her.

Bahar said nothing. She watched him mirror her stance, his gaze drifting toward the windows.

– Put Esra on the transplant list and start preparing, – Bahar turned her head toward him.

He turned pale, his breath coming faster again, shallow and erratic:

– I can’t, – he whispered.

– Ask Esra what she wants, – her voice was calm, a balm to his panic. – It’s her decision, Serhat, not yours, – Bahar folded her arms. – I’ll cut your questions short, – she looked him straight in the eye. – Esra was coming to see me. She knew my story. Everyone does. Even you. I’ve had two transplants. I went through it all. Alone. You can’t claim I don’t understand. I do. I’ve lived through rejection, through a second surgery. Evren performed both.

– So he made a mistake? – the words slipped from Serhat.

Bahar raised her eyebrows.

– He’s a good doctor, and you know that too! My body rejected the first organ – and life didn’t exactly make things easier, – she answered steadily. – And you, Serhat, haven’t made mistakes? Why do you blame Evren? Do you think you have the right? Who gave you that right? Who are you to judge?

Serhat shrugged slightly. Her words hit him square in the chest.

– Why are you defending him so much? Who is he to you? – now he was angry. – What’s between you two?

Bahar almost smiled and leaned in slightly:

– You haven’t figured it out yet? – she asked. – Haven’t placed your bets?

– Bets? – he frowned. – What kind?

Bahar shook her head and turned to the windows:

– On who Evren will end up with, – she admitted. – Everyone’s talking about it. Placing bets. Ridiculous, isn’t it?

– I don’t get it, – Serhat scratched his temple.

– Evren was practically my husband, – Bahar confessed. – But I got scared. I panicked at the idea of marrying again. I made a mistake. I projected my past marriage onto what I could have had with Evren. I left the table. I couldn’t go through with it.

Serhat still frowned, studying her profile. Then he scoffed:

– Evren never learns, – he muttered. – So he made the decision for you?

Bahar stiffened and spun toward him:

– I’m this close to slapping you, – she said evenly, though inside she was boiling. – But Evren told me to protect my hands, – she shook her head. – And he’s right. We’ll need them in the OR. And right now, what we all need is rest. You have time to think. But the decision will be Esra’s, – her voice turned steely. – Only hers. You’re not a doctor in this situation – you’re her father. And as parents, we don’t choose for our children. We learn to accept their choices.

Her piercing gaze made him flinch.

– I’m sorry, – he suddenly raised his hands in surrender. – You were being honest, and I got rude.

– You’re not my person, Serhat, – she shrugged and walked away. – It’s simple. You can’t hurt me with words – only piss me off. Nothing more.

– What can I do to become that person? – he hurried after her. – Bahar? – he realized suddenly that he needed her – as a person, a friend, a colleague. – Bahar, I don’t want to lose your trust.

Bahar walked ahead of him, hands in her pockets:

– There’s nothing to do. Trust is earned. And you’re far from earning it, – she opened the door. – Yes, you’re a Reha doctor, – she reminded him, – but that’s your job, – she shrugged again, pulled out her phone, paused for a second, and then broke into a run the moment she read the message.

Serhat watched her, mesmerized. This woman was captivating. She could be soft, she could be fierce. She could be anything... she was simply extraordinary. Her voice still echoed in his mind – not pain, not bitterness. Just truth. And truth… was something he heard very rarely.

***

– This is rare for our hospital, Evren, pull yourself together! – Rengin stepped aside to let him in first, then followed and slammed the office door shut.

He walked deeper into the office and stopped. All his fire had been spent out there, in the hallway, with Serhat – and then… he glanced to the side… Bahar had gone with him. She’d gone to calm Serhat down. She hadn’t chosen him. She went with the other man. Right now, somewhere out there, maybe she was holding his hand. Evren flinched. His fevered imagination painted one scene after another. By the time it reached them embracing, he clenched his fists and his jaw locked tight.

– Evren, – Rengin was ready to snap her fingers in front of his face just to get his attention, – one slip, and we could lose not only the patient, but our transplant license! No transplant unit, no research, nothing! You’ll be out of a job!

He flinched and slowly turned to her.

– Esra matters too, – Evren swallowed hard, forcing himself not to think about what Bahar might be doing with Serhat right now.

He was still scowling, barely breathing, like he couldn’t draw a full breath. Bahar wouldn’t choose Serhat… she wouldn’t… yes, she’d believed him, that the kiss was just a provocation… but she was free, Serhat too… A wave of nausea hit him. He unbuttoned the top of his shirt as if that might help him breathe.

Rengin, unaware of his inner storm, walked to the desk and picked up a tablet. Turning it on, she opened the relevant chart.

– Esra still has some time, – she confirmed, setting the tablet down. – We’ve stabilized her. She’s holding with medication. For now – she’s stable, – she exhaled.

Evren rolled his neck, trying to ease the tension. His eyes kept drifting to the window, as if he could see the terrace from here. Did they go to the terrace? His face went completely pale. He could already see them there. Not again. All the air seemed to leave his lungs. It felt like a vacuum had formed in Rengin’s office, and he couldn’t breathe – Bahar and Serhat, on the terrace. She was free to do what she wanted… just like Rengin and Cagla had warned him. Only now did he start to understand what they truly meant.

– You understand this is a precedent, – Rengin turned to him. – We’re not just treating Aliye. We have to prove this hospital can handle these kinds of cases! Evren, – she snapped her fingers – not in his face, but from a distance – trying to snap him back. – If Aliye’s surgery fails, Esra won’t even get on the transplant list – because the unit will be shut down! Do you hear me?

– I want to place her on the list, – he managed to force the words out and turned back to the window.

– You want to place her on the list, – Rengin exhaled in relief. At least he was engaging now.

He was difficult, no doubt. Talking to him was harder still… how Bahar had managed to reach him was beyond her understanding – and honestly, she didn’t need to know. All that mattered was that he was a good doctor.

– I get it, – she said gently, watching him closely. – But are you sure you’re acting as a doctor right now – and not as someone trying to… atone for something?

Evren froze for a second, as if turned to stone. She said nothing, let the silence settle, gave him time to process. Then he shoved his hands into his pockets and turned to face her. Now she saw the doctor. The moment she touched a personal nerve, he shut down – and that, she could work with. This version of him, she understood. Just a doctor. A good one.

– Have you noticed? – she leaned back against the desk and crossed her arms. – Both patients are young women. Both with heart conditions. Both on the edge.

Evren frowned, but at least he was listening now.

– One is heading to the OR soon. The other is still deciding, – she softened her tone, eased her pressure.

Rengin debated whether to bring up Cem… and decided not to. Right now, she had to get Evren ready for surgery. That was her job as an administrator.

He just stood there and listened… at least he was listening. So she continued.

– I’m not here to treat anyone. I’m here to make sure we don’t get shut down – so that we all still have jobs, – she said calmly. – You can fight, shout, dig up the past – that’s your right, you all think you’re entitled to it, – she spread her hands, then gestured toward the desk and the couch. – And I’ll be the one meeting with the observer here, explaining why your conflicts won’t destroy this hospital, why we’re still capable of performing this surgery, – she took a breath and pressed on. – I’m scared, Evren, – she admitted. – We can’t afford failure. The balance is too delicate. Too many eyes are watching.

– I’m not going to fail this surgery! – Evren finally responded. – If the council sent that observer for a scandal, he’ll get one – just not the kind he was hoping for! – he wanted to smirk, but couldn’t. He was too angry at everything: at the way they were boxing him in. But he had chosen this path himself, and he was ready to walk it. – My hands are stained with blood! – he nodded. – But they’re clean! You ask me to be a doctor, then to stop being a person. It doesn’t work like that, Rengin! I’ve lost patients. I know what it’s like – to bury a chance, – he hesitated. He had buried a chance in his own life, when he mistook her fear for rejection. He shook his head, regathering himself. – You want me to be perfect for a report, but I choose to be real – for the ones whose hearts lie in my hands!

– If you lose control during surgery, that won’t be a failure, – Rengin sighed, shaking her head, – it’ll be total collapse.

– I won’t lose control. But she might die, – he fell silent, weighing his next words, and only then continued. – Will that be easier for you to live with?

Rengin turned pale. Yes, they’d considered that possibility. It meant things might not go according to plan. That the surgery could change entirely. She stayed quiet, because now – with an observer in the hospital – there was no room for mistakes. None. She said nothing, and Evren went on:

– You’re trying to make me safe. But a safe doctor saves protocols, – he reminded her, – not people. I’m not going to fail this surgery, – he repeated. – But I won’t let fear paralyze us before we even make the first incision – just because of some observer.

– Adem Yurdakul, – Rengin whispered, naming him aloud. Making him real – no longer a phantom stalking the hospital halls. – He was sent by the council. He’ll be in the OR. Don’t let me down, Evren.

– Yurdakul? – Evren looked like he’d been struck. – No… – he sat on the armrest of the couch, like his legs couldn’t hold him. – It’s worse than I thought.

– You know him, – she couldn’t hide her concern.

– He’s not just an observer, – Evren’s voice shook. – His wife died on my table. He’s come to finish what he started. – Adem Yurdakul has come for my soul…