— Evren, — Naz stopped and looked at him, — I’m sorry it turned out this way. I didn’t mean to get in your way.

— You’re leaving? Everything okay? — he seemed not to hear her words. — She’s discharged? You’re taking her?

Naz nodded. He didn’t react. Evren clearly didn’t want to be part of this conversation — he shut down every attempt she made. He hadn’t been talkative before, but after Bahar had left them by her office, he became completely withdrawn. Naz didn’t know how to talk to him like this. If she was honest, she barely understood him at all.

— Evren, — she touched his shoulder, — you need to talk to Cem.

He shoved his hands into his trouser pockets but didn’t pull away this time, letting her hand rest on his shoulder.

— He’s a grown man. He should take responsibility for what he does, — Evren muttered, stretching his neck. — If you fired him, there must’ve been a reason. It’s your restaurant, your decision.

Bahar didn’t even stop — just glanced over and kept walking, shaking her head. She instantly read his posture — he didn’t want to be there, but he still stood his ground, let her touch him, let Naz do whatever she wanted. Bahar couldn’t care less about what was going on downstairs. She nearly bumped into Ferdi, who came dashing around the corner.

— Ferdi, — she managed to jump aside.

— Bahar?! — his eyes lit up with curiosity. — Where are you going?

Bahar was already set on leaving, but Ferdi’s voice made her turn around. He stared at her, trying to read her expression. She saw Evren shake Naz’s hand, then they hugged. She drew in a sharp breath and turned away. Ferdi, on the other hand, leaned over the railing, trying to catch what they were saying.

— Come on, — Ferdi’s excited whisper reached her ears. — Uraz?

That was the last thing she needed right now — another talk with Uraz. She clenched her teeth and picked up the pace. She’d already seen him getting close to Naz by his office — now it was happening again. This time, in the lobby, in front of everyone.

She could feel Ferdi’s gaze burning into her back. Once again, they were putting on a show — first at her office, now Evren in the middle of the hall.

Bahar didn’t even notice the stairwell door creak open. Cem peeked out, then quickly pulled back, clutching his laptop under his arm. Only after she passed by did he step into the hallway, pulling out his phone.

Cem walked along the wall, filming the hospital lobby with one hand, holding his laptop with the other. Uraz looked clearly puzzled — his irritation was obvious even from afar. He practically yanked Ferdi away from the railing and shoved a patient file into his hands.

Cem glanced back, but Bahar was already gone. Whether she hadn’t noticed him or simply didn’t recognize him — it didn’t matter anymore. A satisfied, almost triumphant smile crept onto his lips. He slipped through the stairwell door, pocketing his phone...

***

Rengin was still holding the phone to her ear, eyes locked on Ahu — as if checking whether she’d heard it too. Her face was drained of all color in an instant. As if the countdown to Aliye’s surgery wasn’t enough — now this.

— What? — Ahu mouthed the word, afraid to even say it aloud.

— How could they have found out? — Rengin sat down on the couch, her arms dropping helplessly.

— Found out what? — Ahu asked in a whisper, leaning closer, shifting from foot to foot, unsure of what to do.

Ahu could only act or react when she knew the problem… and now, all she could see was Rengin’s reaction — the cause remained a mystery.

— How could they have known what happened during Bahar’s surgery? — Rengin raised her head. — The committee is citing a severe breach of protocol during the procedure. They’re demanding explanations, — her voice was void of emotion, just a flat delivery of facts.

Ahu braced her hands against her knees and froze in place. Rengin’s words struck her like a punch to the gut, knocking the air from her lungs.

— They’ve informed us that Aliye’s surgery will be conducted under committee supervision. Any misstep, — Rengin blinked, — could result in the suspension of our license.

— All protocols were logged, — Ahu straightened up, grabbing the tablet from the table. — I personally verified everything.

— But… there’s a catch, — Rengin still wouldn’t look up.

— What kind of catch? — Ahu frantically scrolled through the records, as if trying to find a mistake.

— Someone leaked the surgery video. It’s all over social media — showing Serhat barging into an open-heart surgery in regular clothes, — she finally looked at Ahu. — Who could’ve done that?

Ahu’s finger froze on the screen. She narrowed her eyes slightly.

— Through proxies or not, the sysadmins will trace it. We’ll get the IP address, — she responded instantly.

— And what good will that do now? — Rengin rose from the couch. — If we fail Aliye’s surgery — it’s over. Departments will be shut down. We’ll all be out of work while the investigation drags on. As for the transplant unit — forget about it.

Ahu kept a close eye on Rengin while silently typing a message on her tablet. She sent it without breaking her gaze. She’d explain later what good it would do — but they had to find whoever hacked their video systems.

— Prepare the video call. They’re waiting, — Rengin instructed, heading to her desk.

She barely had time to sit down before the call came through. Ahu immediately stood in front of her and activated the screen on the tablet.

— We have questions. There was a registered incident of instability — both physical and emotional — at the hospital, — Ismail’s voice was detached. — During an open-heart surgery, unauthorized individuals were present, including a doctor not on the approved surgical list. There’s also video footage from inside the sterile zone. And finally, the surgeon operating under temporary authorization — Professor Evren — was never formally entered into the protocol.

Rengin couldn’t bring herself to look at Ahu, who had been reviewing the protocols just before the call.

— He saved the patient. I take full responsibility, — she said evenly.

— Do you understand that this operation is under council oversight? — Ismail’s voice cut through the air. — After this incident, we’re no longer confident in your team’s stability. Nor in your ability to manage, especially after the recent tragic losses among staff.

He paused. Neither Ahu nor Rengin moved. That moment of silence stretched endlessly between them.

— The council requires an official explanation. Aliye’s surgery will proceed under video surveillance. A council-appointed external observer will be present. Any deviations — and your transplant license will be suspended. The department’s status is already in jeopardy — some sponsors have frozen funding, awaiting the commission’s decision. You, Professor Rengin, and Professor Evren will be temporarily suspended during the investigation, — he closed his folder and looked at Rengin through the monitor, — the decision will take effect if the surgery is not deemed successful.

The connection dropped — or was cut. The monitor screen went black. Rengin exhaled as if she hadn’t breathed the entire time. She was still staring at the dead screen. She knew — if the surgery failed, she’d be permanently removed from her post.

— And if everything goes perfectly? — Ahu asked quietly, as if reading her thoughts. — Will that change anything?

— Call Bahar, Evren, Serhat, everyone, — she didn’t bother listing further, — we can’t afford a single mistake!

— Understood, — Ahu tucked the tablet under her arm, turned on her heel, and slipped out of the office.

Only when the door closed behind her did Rengin lower her head, clutching it in her hands as she leaned her elbows on the desk… everything that had just begun to come together — collapsed like a house of cards…

***

He longed for a home of his own. Not an apartment with someone else’s mugs on the shelves, not a place you stay while you're still figuring things out—a real home. His own room, his own cup, his own music, his own silence. He even knew what it would smell like in the mornings, and how each day would begin.

He dreamed of a family. Not a picture-perfect magazine version. Just someone who wanted to see him, who believed in him. Someone who opened the door not with surprise, but with joy. He didn’t want to wait around to be chosen anymore. He didn’t want to be a supporting character in someone else’s story.

He fought the only way he knew how, not even sure anymore where the line was—the line that, once crossed, turned everything into revenge. Although... he did know. And still, he pressed the buttons.

Cem slipped into the hospital surveillance system with ease. It was simple for him. His anger clouded everything else. He accessed the cameras without trouble. He knew exactly where to look. The scene they’d discussed in the hallway stuck in his mind like a splinter—he went right back to it. Cut the footage he needed. Transferred it to a disc. Watched it again. He didn’t smile. Just watched.

Images flashed through his mind:

Bahar on the staircase. Unemployed.

Evren packing his suitcase.

Umay working at a café.

Naz standing next to Evren, making breakfast.

America—on the horizon again: him, Evren, and Naz.

And all of it—without them. Without Bahar and Umay.

He didn’t truly believe it would happen like that, but he wanted something to change. Anything. Anything but this.

When he stumbled upon the footage of Naz kissing Evren outside his office, something clicked. He almost flinched—as if he'd caught himself thinking it. He rewound it several times. Paused. Then opened another video—this one from a phone. Two videos. One kiss. One embrace. Two truths. Or one?

— It’s not right... it’s all wrong, — he murmured.

He wished he could say he was doing it for justice. But deep down, he knew he was doing it because no one ever chose him. Not Naz. Not his brother. Not Umay. No one.

— This isn’t revenge, — he whispered. — It’s just the truth. My truth.

He opened tabs, downloaded files, cut and edited, typed, and played things back until they came together the way he wanted.

Cem watched the kiss between Evren and Naz in the lobby like a sentence had been passed. Not on them—on himself. He was the extra frame in someone else's reel. But maybe, if he pushed the story hard enough... If Bahar was erased completely—he’d already taken the first step, leaking her surgery video online... And now? He closed his eyes. Smirked. No, it wasn’t over.

He raised his head, opened a new file, typed in a disguised name, attached the files. He still needed a place. A time. He needed scale. Impact. Not a moment—a spectacle.

His fingers danced over the keyboard. Fast. Too fast. He didn’t even notice how often he paused, glanced around. As if waiting for someone to walk in and say, "Stop."

Someone could have stopped him. But no one came looking. No one needed him. No one cared...

***

— This matters, Professor, — Uraz refused the seat Evren offered, — you can't keep hurting my mom. That's enough, — his voice trembled. — You've punished her more than enough.

Evren stood up and slowly walked around the desk. He exhaled, as if about to say something sharp, but didn’t. He just adjusted his coat.

— You take everything too literally, Uraz. It's not what it looks like.

— Then what is it? — Uraz lifted his chin. — You come home, have dinner with us, bring her the charts of difficult patients, you're in her OR. And then — in the hospital lobby — you're next to Naz, and everyone sees it. You give them a reason to gossip. Out there, behind that door, they’re placing bets: who you'll end up with. You made this a game. You know what the prize is?

Evren flinched almost imperceptibly, his fingers frozen near his wrist. He tried to say something — couldn’t. Uraz went on:

— My father did this to her first. Now you. What makes you better? That you trust her with complex surgeries? Tomorrow you’ll leave — she’ll stay, — he looked him in the eyes. — And you know what? She’ll be fine. Without you, my mom passed her exam. Without you — she got certified. She became a doctor herself. Yes, you helped in the beginning, but you have no right to claim her growth.

Evren slightly opened his mouth, as if to argue, but nothing came. He looked at Uraz — really looked. For the first time, he saw a man standing before him, a man protecting the woman he couldn’t hold onto, and didn’t know how to win back.

— I’ll handle it, — he said hoarsely.

— How? — Uraz stepped closer. — Ask Naz to stop showing up? — his voice was tight with fury. — Then Naz will be outside, and Mom will be stuck in the hospital? Just like with my father? Is that normal to you?

— Uraz…

— You don’t even have an answer for me, — he stepped back, his voice quieter. — If you decide I'm not on your team — so be it, — he moved toward the exit, then suddenly turned. — But no, — he didn’t even smile, — you won’t dare! You have no grounds to sideline me. As a doctor, I respect you. But as a man — I don’t.

He was almost gone, hand on the door handle. Evren exhaled slowly, and suddenly said:

— Uraz, it’s not what you think.

Uraz looked back over his shoulder. Evren stood leaning against the chair, eyes fixed on him.

— Stay away from my mom. She’s strong, but she’s not invincible. And you — you’re the one who could really hurt her, — he paused, then added. — You’re not worthy of my mom!

He walked out. The door slammed behind him.

Evren was left alone in the silence of his office. He stood for a few seconds, then sat back at his desk. His fingers slid along the edge of a paper. He didn’t even realize he was trembling. He had already asked himself that question more than once — whether he deserved to be by her side…

***

— I want to be with him, Bahar, let me through! — Gulchichek was fighting her way toward Reha’s room, swinging her handbag like she could smash her way to her husband.

Bahar ran to intercept her.

— Mom, mama... — Bahar hugged her, stopping her in the hallway, — wait, calm down. — She looked her in the eyes. — He's okay. He’s stable. Please, listen to me.

— Mrs. Gulchichek, — Doruk rushed up, slightly out of breath, — Bahar is telling you the truth.

He stood beside her, holding out one hand like a barrier.

— Gulchichek! — came Nevra’s voice from behind. — I told you… you almost ran into the street!

Bahar gave her former mother-in-law a brief nod, but her focus remained on her mother. She cupped her mother’s face, trying to hold her gaze.

— Mama, you can't get worked up. Your husband is fine, he's in the room, they're preparing him for surgery. But he’ll feel better if you calm down. Please, — Bahar pleaded.

— I want to see him now! — Gulchichek lunged forward again, but Bahar held her and gently lowered her onto a couch.

She immediately knelt in front of her.

— Mom… he really is okay. I saw him. He’s strong, it’s Professor Reha. He just got scared, but we’re all here.

— Grandma! — Umay and Parla rushed in at once.

Yusuf followed behind, glancing around uncertainly.

— How is he?

— It’s under control, — Bahar said quickly, without looking up from her mother.

— Grandma, you know your blood pressure... you want to end up lying next to him? — Umay tried to joke, sitting on the armrest of the couch. — Just breathe, please.

— God, how can you all be like this! — Gulchichek threw up her hands. — Why are you always keeping things from me?! Why am I the last to know everything?!

— Because you're the first one we're afraid of losing, — said Nevra, sitting down beside her and placing a hand on her knee.

Bahar glanced at her in surprise, then turned back to her mother.

— Bahar, — Siren appeared with a bottle of water and crouched down next to them.

— Gulchichek, here. Have some water.

— Drink, — Bahar pressed the bottle into her mother’s hands. — Just breathe. I’m here. We’re all here.

— Grandma, — Uraz approached quickly and knelt beside her, squeezing her fingers, — why don’t you believe us?

— I don’t! I don’t believe you! You’re always hiding something. I can feel it. — Gulchichek looked around at them all, her eyes glistening with tears.

— Mama… please don’t cry, — Bahar whispered, resting her head on her mother’s lap, — please. You have a heart too… you need to take care of it.

Gulchichek let out a sob, and everyone fell silent. No one said anything else. A warm, ringing quiet settled around them. They were all there. Not talking — just being present. Someone held her hand, someone leaned into her shoulder, someone sighed, someone coughed. It was as if the heart of the entire family beat in one rhythm.

Above them, leaning on the railing, stood Evren, watching. He saw them all.

She was never alone. Not ever. He had heard those words before, many times, but only now did he begin to understand them. He instinctively stepped back, afraid they might see him.

From the doorway to the staircase, Cem peeked out for a brief moment. He stood in the shadows.

All those who had once nearly been his family now stood with their backs to him. He clenched his jaw and disappeared behind the door...

***

Closing the door behind her, Bahar stepped out of Reha’s room. Nevra was calmly waiting, sitting on a bench. She made a move to stand up as soon as she saw Bahar, but Bahar stopped her.

– Is everything okay? – she sat down next to her. – How are you? – Bahar looked at her intently.

Nevra immediately lowered her gaze to her hands. She was nervously wringing them. They all needed time to get used to the fact that Timur was gone. Nevra shrugged but didn’t answer.

– How is he? – she asked instead, steering the focus away from herself.

Bahar sighed and clasped her hands.

– He’s calm, even cracked a joke – she almost smiled, but her eyes stayed troubled.

Umay, Parla, and Yusuf were sitting across from them. Siren and Uraz had stepped away somewhere.

– You’re holding up too – Nevra noted.

Bahar just squeezed her hands tighter.

– I’m doing all I can – Bahar replied.

– Have you eaten anything? – Nevra suddenly asked.

Bahar blinked and turned to her. It was the first time Nevra had asked her something like that, the first time she showed concern for anyone other than herself and Timur.

– Everyone understands everything, but no one says anything – she continued, not waiting for an answer. – Bahar – Nevra leaned toward her – be careful – she whispered for some reason, making Bahar frown – you’re in the crosshairs – a message alert chimed from Nevra’s purse, but she ignored it.

Bahar was just about to feel her former mother-in-law’s forehead; it seemed like she was rambling.

– What do you mean? – she finally asked.

– Bahar – Ferdi burst out from the hallway – where have you been? Why aren’t you reading the group chat? Didn’t you see? There’s a general meeting – he rattled off – the operation briefing’s already started, come on, quick – he urged – everyone’s there, they’re waiting for you.

Bahar jumped to her feet. She shoved her hand into her pocket, opened the chat on the go, and saw a bunch of missed messages. She still hadn’t gotten used to this new thing – the group chat for doctors. Right above was an unread message from Rengin: “Bahar, I’m waiting for you in the conference room. Urgent.”

– Girls, Yusuf – was all she managed to mumble before bolting.

Bahar ran, realizing she was late again. Ferdi ran behind her, almost chasing her. Why hadn’t Rengin called? Why hadn’t Siren and Uraz waited or said anything? Bahar was out of breath, struggling to breathe, and pushed the door open.

A room full of medical staff, buzzing with voices, but all turned to look at her. Closing the door behind her, she looked around in confusion. Suddenly, the room fell silent. There was a seat next to Rengin and Evren at the head table, and to the side – next to Siren and Uraz, who waved to her. She headed straight to them.

Bahar understood they had already begun the discussion and she was late, but no one scolded her this time. They just exchanged words, glancing her way.

– I wonder who’ll win – she heard someone whisper.

– The stakes are different now, not like last time – she caught the faint words.

– Let’s continue – Rengin called the room to order. – We’ll start with the heart transplant, then move on to the liver – she looked at Evren.

– We enter the abdominal cavity only after hemodynamic stabilization. Who objects? – his gaze landed on Bahar.

Again, all eyes turned to her. Why her? She was just assisting on this surgery, not leading it.

– We’re using the left mammary for the bypass – Evren continued. – The patient’s artery is stretched, the margin is minimal, but it’s there.

Uraz, with a serious face, stared into his tablet, rotating a 3D model in silence. Siren handed her tablet to Bahar.

– Excuse me – Serhat entered the room – I... – he looked around, spotted Bahar, and headed straight for her.

Bahar had to scoot over to make space. Serhat took a chair and sat beside her.

– You’re the only one I know – he explained, settling in. – Have they already started? Did I miss much?

Bahar nodded and pushed Siren’s tablet toward him. They had to share one – neither had brought their own.

– I just got here too – Bahar whispered. – You reviewed the procedure, right? Professor Evren gave everyone access – she said, opening the right file.

– Yes, I’ve read through it – Serhat leaned in closer. – I just can’t get used to this.

Bahar sighed. She herself kept forgetting about the tablet.

– Professor Özer – Rengin addressed him.

Serhat didn’t look up immediately. He rotated the heart model again, stopping at the desired spot, and only then lifted his head. Bahar could tell he’d seen it before.

– I’ll initiate the heart under connection right after the transplant – he said calmly.

Bahar exhaled. Serhat’s voice was steady and reassuring. Sitting beside him, she suddenly felt as though she were resting in the shade of a large tree on a hot day. The discussion continued around them – she heard it all, yet at the same time, it felt like she was resting, touched by a sense of calm.

– Bahar Özden – Rengin’s voice brought her back into the discussion.

– The abdominal cavity is my domain. With adhesions, you never know what you’ll find. We’ll need flexibility. I’ll level the adhesions; the wall is tough, we’ll have to go in sharp – Bahar spoke up, smoothly joining the conversation.

– I’ll take the cardiac block, as discussed. I’m holding the heart. Connection happens at the moment of implantation – Serhat continued in the same calm tone.

Bahar nearly smiled, listening to Serhat’s voice. She was looking at Evren, and she didn’t miss the slight twitch of his jaw – something clearly bothered him… but what? This was his patient, his complex surgery – what could be distracting him at a time like this?

– Landing time confirmed – Ahu announced. – The capsule with the patient will arrive in six hours.

Silence fell over the room. Only Evren and Bahar were looking at each other, as if a countdown had begun. Bahar flinched and broke eye contact first, lowering her gaze.

– It won’t be easy for you – Serhat said quietly, showing her something on the tablet.

Bahar put on her glasses and looked. Serhat moved his hands away, letting her rotate the view of the abdominal cavity herself as she explained things to him.

– Everyone needs to rest. We cannot afford mistakes – Rengin said in a voice stripped of emotion. – Everything that happens will be recorded, analyzed, and contested – before we even remove our gloves.

She looked composed, scanning the room, her gaze kept drifting back to the pair bent over the tablet.

– We’ve done more with less time and worse conditions. We managed – Bahar sighed, still unclear what the whole point was. – I’m sure you’ve had your share of cases too – she looked at Serhat.

– Observers don’t operate – Evren stated. – We do. It’s best not to forget that.

She immediately lifted her head at the sound of his voice and looked at him. He looked calm, collected – but his fingers were gripping the pen with white-knuckled force. She could sense he was barely holding himself together. She read his tension, but he couldn’t be nervous. Not now, not when everything depended on his actions, his experience. Still, she lowered her eyes back to the tablet.

– Did you see how they’re sitting? – Ferdi whispered to Ahu. – You should’ve bet on Naz. Knowing Bahar, she’d be next to the professor, but nope – sitting next to the other guy.

Ahu elbowed him.

– Seriously – Ferdi persisted – what if this is a love square?

– Ferdi – Ahu nearly smacked him – we’ve got a transplant coming up, the whole department could be shut down, and you’re joking? Not the time – she muttered, though she still cast a glance at Bahar.

She was sitting with Serhat, both focused on the tablet. He was explaining something, walking her through his plan. Then came the collective notification sound from dozens of phones as everyone began to stand up.

– It’s not going to be easy – Serhat said, inadvertently glancing at Evren who was gathering papers from the table.

– We’ll manage – Bahar said without lifting her head.

– In six hours, general meeting – Rengin announced, rising to her feet.

Someone opened the message first. Then another. A ripple of soft comments spread. Gazes bounced between Evren and Bahar, and back to Evren again.

– What is that? – Siren couldn’t hold back – why would someone post that here?

Uraz jumped up so fast his chair toppled backward.

– Uraz – Bahar flinched, tearing her eyes from the tablet – what is it?

– Me? – Uraz exclaimed, fists clenched.

She didn’t understand what had rattled her son so badly. She had been discussing the surgery with Serhat, sharing thoughts.

– I don’t get it – Uraz said in confusion, staring at his phone. – It wasn’t like this…

But rage was taking over, his hand tightening around the phone.

– What’s going on? – Bahar looked to Siren, who shook her head.

Without a word, she showed Bahar her screen. On it – Evren and Naz kissing.

– It’s in the medical group chat – Siren whispered. – No caption.

Bahar just sat and stared. Today’s clothes, the hallway. She saw them embracing. She saw how tense he was… but she also saw them kiss on that video. She remembered Naz kissing him outside his office… but this – this was mutual.

Her fingers stopped moving. The video replayed from the beginning, again and again. But she watched as if for the first time. Slowly. Not believing. Not questioning. Just watching.

She slowly raised her head. Just as slowly, she stood up and headed for the exit, never once looking at Evren. Everyone stepped aside for her. Siren and Uraz followed.

– Bahar! – his voice rang in her ears.

She kept walking, not stopping. Uraz tried to stop him, but Evren moved past him.

– Bahar – his hand gripped her elbow. – You don’t actually think…? – he spoke slowly. – Bahar! – his voice trembled. – Look at me! – he pleaded. – Bahar! – he almost shouted.

– Professor – Uraz stepped toward them.

Siren tried to hold her husband back, but he shook her off.

– You need to focus on the surgery. Get some rest – Bahar said in a dry voice, not looking at him.

– You don’t believe that, do you? – he moved closer, still holding her elbow.

Bahar lowered her gaze. Evren’s breathing grew shallow, lips quivering as if he had so much to say but couldn’t form the words. Colleagues surrounded them, all eyes fixed on this moment. Uraz had been right – he really did hear the word “bet.” What was the prize? Those words echoed back.

Uraz tried to push his way through the cluster of colleagues.

– It’s not true, Bahar – he gripped her shoulders, trying to get her to meet his gaze, but she kept looking away.

– Professor – Uraz was nearly at their side.

– Look at me, look at me! – Evren begged. – I don’t care what they think, do you hear me? – he suddenly pulled her into an embrace, but she didn’t respond, swaying in his arms like a puppet. – Let them whisper, let them talk – he whispered into her ear – the only thing that matters is what you think.

She said nothing. Gave no answer. Uraz was seconds away from reaching them. Just a moment more and it would be over. She would leave with her son.

– Fine – anger tinged his voice. His hands tightened on her shoulders. – Here’s the truth – he suddenly pulled her close and kissed her in front of everyone.