…what next? She stood by the elevator, staring at its button. Up? Down? Stay on this floor? Bahar sighed, but her hand did not move — she didn’t touch any button.

– Need some help? – a male voice burst into her inflamed consciousness, making her flinch. – Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.

She, ignoring him, only shook her head and was ready to push her forehead into the cold wall just to cool her heated mind. She didn’t want to speak. Bahar was digesting her own decision: she had to tell the expecting mother that one baby would have to be sacrificed so the other could survive.
– Want some water? – the same voice offered. – Maybe I can take you out into some fresh air? It helps you collect yourself.
Bahar frowned. How could he know that she needed a little air to feel the ground under her feet again, to regain her former confidence… although she had long lost her confidence, she still believed in her strength, knew she could rely only on herself. What else could she be sure of? She used to say she could rely on Evren, but definitely not now… he continued running from her, from them, from himself.
She used to be able to go to him, simply hug him, and everything would immediately fall into place. She would feel a surge of strength, she would… no… she needed to stop constantly thinking about him, or she’d go mad… and him—she slipped her hand into her pocket, took out her phone, checked that there were no calls or messages, and put it back. No surprise — he didn’t call, didn’t write… and strangely, she had already gotten used to this silence.
– I can keep you company—in silence, – the male voice continued seeping into her mind.
Bahar sighed, turned a little and leaned her shoulder against the wall, and the man mirrored her. He stood across from her, shifting his weight to his left shoulder, crossed his arms over his chest and looked at her attentively.
– You’re not exactly silent, – Bahar spoke, drawing a faint smile on his face.
Dark eyes, a hint of gray in his wavy hair, tall, well-built. Taking a breath, she caught the scent of his perfume—not sweet, pleasant—it enveloped her. The man stood opposite her as if this were the most natural thing for him to do at that very moment. This stranger involuntarily put her at ease, though something flickered in his eyes—only for a moment, or so it seemed.
And he fell silent, allowing her to examine him, as if he had no business at that moment, as if she didn’t need to hurry to the expecting mother to deliver her decision. She realized she appreciated this pause amid the whirlwind of the day’s news—just standing and looking at someone she didn’t know.
– Do you like standing like this? – Bahar noticed how his eyebrows rose slightly, and his lips almost curved into a smile, but he restrained himself, turning serious again. – You clearly have a reason to be here?
Now all the lightness instantly vanished from his face—he even looked away—and she felt a heaviness on his shoulders, though he didn’t say a word. Oh no, she scolded herself immediately, don’t start pitying him. No, no and no again. No more Timurs in her life… Timur. Bahar sighed inwardly. She looked through the man, seeing the gaze of dark eyes and the smile of her husband.
– Sorry, – she straightened and turned toward the elevator doors.
The man suddenly pressed the button. He did what she had not dared to do. Bahar trembled inside. She understood she had made the right decision—just needed to announce it to the patient. It was in moments like this Evren used to support her; he understood her without words… understood her before, but not now. As soon as the elevator doors opened, the stranger stepped closer.
– Please, – the man invited her into the elevator.
Bahar swallowed hard and took a step. She had to step in; she had to speak with this young woman she had been caring for a few hours. She hadn’t even had a chance to meet Çagla. She still didn’t know who had been brought to the hospital, who the survivor was, whether it was just him or several people.
– What’s your verdict? – he broke the silence again.
Bahar fixed her gaze on him, shook her head, unclear about his question.
– You’re thinking so silently — care to share? – he offered.
Now Bahar’s eyebrows lifted slightly, the elevator doors opened, and they walked into the corridor.
– You really don’t know how to stay mute, – she observed. – Also, who are you? And why should I tell you what I’m thinking, – she blurted and strode down the corridor.
The man followed her, not falling behind.
– You shouldn’t follow me, – she said, glancing back.
– I’m headed the same direction, – he continued behind her.
– And what if I turn off? – Bahar didn’t back down.
– Depends where you turn, – the stranger’s eyes flicked over walls and doors to the wards.
– Tell me what you’re looking for, – Bahar slowed near a ward door.
The man stopped too. He touched his forehead, brushing away a faint sheen of sweat.
– I hope I’m not tiring you—we haven’t walked fast, – she remarked. – Or are you feeling unwell? – she frowned.
– Maybe you should come in? – he answered too abruptly.
– Or maybe you shouldn’t tell me what to do, – she shot back and turned fully to him, standing with her back to the door, arms crossed over her chest. – Do you realize we’re in a hospital and you’re stalking me?
– Bahar, there you are! – Rengin hurried over to her.
Doruk and Ahu stopped just behind her.
– I’m right by my patient’s ward, – Bahar, casting glances at the man, turned toward Rengin.
– What have you decided to do? – she asked.
– Do what? – the man interjected.
– And who are you anyway? – Rengin turned to him.
– I’m curious too, – Doruk stepped forward, unwittingly shielding Bahar.
– I’m not about to discuss the patient’s diagnosis in the corridor, especially with strangers present, – Bahar nodded toward the man. – Let’s go to my office; Doruk, please bring the lab results—they should be ready by now.
Bahar slipped her hands into her pockets and was about to walk away, but the man spoke again:
– Then I’ll go with you, – his lips compressed into a thin line.
– Why are you raising your voice? – Doruk stepped in front of him, though he had to lift his chin to meet his gaze.
– Security? – Rengin looked at Ahu. – Call them!
– You just need to do your job, – the man looked at his watch, – I want to know what you’ve decided. What decision have you made? – he looked at Bahar. – I want to see the lab results.
– Are you a doctor? Who the hell are you? – Bahar snapped. – Do you realize you’re wasting my time?
– You still haven’t answered what you plan to do?! – Now the man was angry.
– I’m calling security, – Ahu’s voice rose.
– Do you treat all patients’ families like this? – the man was clearly struggling to contain himself. – Since you’re here, – he looked at Bahar, – despite the plane crash, Esra found you, so I want to know what decision you’ve made? I want to know when you’ll terminate my daughter’s pregnancy?
Rengin’s mouth dropped in astonishment. Not only was she utterly shocked that Bahar decided to abort one fetus, but now the patient’s father demanded a termination altogether.
– Is Esra an adult? – Rengin squared her shoulders. – She has the right to make decisions herself, which means if she wants to give birth—to two babies—that’s her own decision! You are her father, but it isn’t yours to decide!
Bahar closed her eyes. Her temples hammered. Just a little more and her head would surely explode from all the thoughts.
– I’m sorry, sir, but Professor Rengin is right—your daughter is an adult, and she makes decisions herself, – Bahar glanced at her phone again.
– She can make decisions, if she doesn’t risk her life! I want to see my daughter’s test results! – he demanded. – I will decide alone!
– You're not her doctor, – Bahar began.
– But I am a doctor! I am her doctor! – he cut her off. – And she has a heart defect, which she clearly didn’t tell you about—I’ve been treating her since birth; she shouldn’t have gotten pregnant, let alone given birth!
Bahar frowned. Now it made sense: the girl’s pallor, her breathlessness, the sweating. She immediately realized that besides the risky pregnancy, the girl had something else in her medical history.
– You’re right, she didn’t tell me, but the tests would have shown it, and I would have arranged for further examination! – Bahar was not backing down.
– I’m going to give birth, Dad! – the girl appeared in the doorway in her hospital gown. – Why did you come, why are you causing a scene? I told you I would find Mrs. Bahar—and I found her. She’ll save me and my babies, just like she saved her own grandchildren. You won’t forbid me to become a mother; you won’t take away this opportunity! – tears brimmed in her eyes. – They will both breathe, they will call me “Mom.” And you, Dad, you’ll become a grandfather! The best grandfather in the world!
– Your Mrs. Bahar isn’t in any condition right now to properly evaluate your state—her husband was on that plane! – the man immediately stepped toward his daughter; despite his formidable appearance, his eyes softened the moment he saw her.
Bahar’s face changed—she was just about to say her usual line—he’s not my husband—but she fell silent; did that even matter now? The man took in his daughter with an attentive gaze, even smiled at her, but that smile vanished behind his sternness instantly.
– You’re my little girl, Esra, I won’t let you risk your life! I won’t let you! – his voice sounded categorical.
– But I’m not a mother, – Esra pressed with one hand against the doorframe, barely standing on her feet, the other hand pressed to her belly in a protective gesture for her children.
– Please, – Rengin cut into their exchange, – let’s calm down and go into the ward, – she turned very serious, – we won’t make hasty conclusions on the fly. We’ll carefully review the results, and our wonderful Dr. Bahar will do everything in her power.
Bahar stared at Rengin with perplexity. Did she actually believe in a miracle? Always pragmatic Rengin wanted magic from her? That miracle everyone had pinned their hopes on simply couldn’t happen—not this time. What happened to everyone? Okay, Esra could be understood. But Doruk, Ahu, Rengin—they all looked at her as if she could conjure magic with a wave of her hand.
Bahar’s gaze flicked around; she was ready to break away, to run… to run toward him, because he was the only one who would understand her. Would not expect a simple miracle from her… though she too hoped for a miracle, unconsciously touching the phone in her pocket. She needed to stop subconsciously leaning on him, stop even thinking—because now he wasn’t in her life; he was just somewhere nearby, but not with her.
– Esra, – she turned to the girl, – let’s go into the ward. I’m waiting for the results; you don’t need to worry, – she ignored the man, subtly stepping him aside. – If you don’t want to— – she stumbled— – if your father upsets you, you have the right to ask us not to let him in.
– What? – she heard behind her.
– Also, you should’ve told her about your diagnosis, – Bahar continued, helping Esra lie on the bed. – What about your heart?
– Could you ask me? – the man followed behind.
Bahar struggled to keep Esra, who tried to get up from the bed. The father stood to the side; his face showed unmasked worry.
– You are going to save my babies—save both of them? – Esra’s voice trembled with emotion.
The man’s skepticism felt almost physical. He was itching to hear Bahar’s answer, ready at any moment to spring into attack. This was no professional disagreement—lives were at stake.
– How do you plan to do that with a compressed heart defect? – his quiet voice sounded like a verdict.
Bahar squinted. This information changed everything. She had to make a decision on which the fate of three people depended.
– Esra, you need to trust me, – she said softly, not averting her gaze from the girl. – And I need to speak with your father.
– No! – Esra cried out, grabbing Bahar’s hand. – He’ll ruin everything!
At that moment, the ward door opened slightly, and Rengin appeared in the doorway with the lab results.
– I think it’s best we all go to my office. Ahu, – Rengin looked at her assistant.
– Okay, – one look from Rengin was enough; she turned and disappeared behind the doors…

***

– The door’s not to blame, – Naz remarked calmly as Cem slammed it shut once again. – Why are you here? Why aren’t you with Umay?
The young man muttered something under his breath and viciously resumed chopping potatoes.
– You shouldn't handle food in that mood, – she wiped her hands on a towel.
– Let’s all go to America together, – Cem threw the knife onto the table and turned to her. – You’ve got an offer, right? I can work with you, you’ve seen what I can do. And Evren’s brother has a job there. We’ll leave together and forget it all. Forget everything, – he wiped the sweat from his forehead with the sleeve of his coat.
Naz crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back against the table, sitting slightly.
– Leaving’s easy. But getting rid of the thoughts… that’s not so simple, – she sighed.
– Don’t you see, – Cem gestured as he stood in front of her, – everything will be easier over there. Evren’s brother and you—you’ll make it. He’s happy with you. You’ll get married. You’ll have kids—your own. You’ll be a family. My brother wants a child. Bahar couldn’t… they lost one. But he was so happy. He wants a child, more than anything.
Naz went pale. They’d even had a child. Could have had one.
– He loves Bahar, – she said, quietly, with resignation in her voice.
– So what? – he threw his hands in the air. – What does that change? She left him at the wedding. She humiliated him. He’ll never forgive her—no one should! And I won’t forgive her either! I won’t! – his teeth clenched.
Naz lowered her head. She understood all too well how complicated things were between Evren and Bahar. But she also saw that their feelings were still alive—fresh. No matter how hard Evren tried to change his life, Bahar kept pulling him back like a magnet. Did she really want to fight against that? To stand between them?
– What does this have to do with you, Cem? Why do you need to forgive Bahar? It’s none of your business, – she shook her head.
Cem flared up, his cheeks flushed:
– He’s my brother! – he nearly shouted.
– Has Bahar ever done something to you? – Naz looked at him from under her brows. – What exactly did Bahar do to you, Cem? How did she hurt you?
The boy flinched.
– Timur did, – slipped from his lips, and then he went silent.
– Bahar isn’t Timur, – Naz dropped her hands and leaned them on the countertop. – Do we know anything yet?
Cem flared up again:
– Do you know what Umay said? Do you?! She said she wished it was only Evren on that plane instead of them! Can you understand that?! – he stared at her defiantly.
– Cem, – Naz straightened up and stepped toward him, embracing him. – Umay didn’t mean harm. She’s just scared for her father.
He tried to pull away from her arms:
– What did Evren ever do to them, huh? What?! – he yelled. – First her father ruined things, then Bahar’s sister hurt Evren, and now Umay! I don’t want to see them! I want to leave! Please, Naz, – he stepped closer and grabbed her hands. – Let’s just go. You, me, and my brother.
– Cem, – Naz embraced him again, – it’s not that simple.
– It is! It’s all simple! You’re the ones making it complicated! – this time, he let himself be held. – I already told my brother about Umay. I told him—so he’d know! He won’t be with Bahar’s sister. He doesn’t have any surgeries left. There’s nothing keeping him here. Nothing! Let’s go? – he leaned back slightly, searching her eyes. – Let’s start over. Without Bahar’s sister. Without Umay.
Naz sighed, stroking his hair. Her gaze fixed on the wall. Neither Evren, nor Bahar, nor even Cem had ever really shared their past. And now, with Cem blurting out bits in his emotional storm, she realized something—maybe, just maybe, she still had a chance…

***

– You talk about a minimal chance, yet you believe in it yourself? – the man slapped his palm on the desk.
Rengin sat across from him—Serhat Özer, a top-category cardiologist. How had she not recognized him immediately? She’d seen his articles online more than once. Bahar sat beside her, carefully studying the documents Ahu had printed and brought in.
– You think I don’t want to save her children? Or her? – he jumped from his chair and began pacing the room. – I do. But I can’t risk the life of my only daughter! I’ve already lost her mother! We’re all doctors. We know that sometimes, to make a miracle happen—you have to stop in time!
He froze, exhaled, walked to the table, pulled out a chair and sat. Bahar looked up from the papers. Serhat reached out, and she handed him the test results.
– She’s tachycardic at rest. What will happen in the third trimester? – he asked, now more like a doctor than a father.
– One fetus is hypoxic. The other isn’t getting enough nutrients, – Bahar stated.
– If we don’t make a decision, we’ll lose all of them! Can we stop playing gods already? – Serhat didn’t want to hear any arguments.
– Bahar, you’ve always chosen life, – Rengin drummed her fingers anxiously on the table.
– Saving doesn’t mean defeating death, – Bahar stood and walked to the window. – One baby. One chance. One life.
– No! – Serhat leapt up. – I’m against it! No risks for my daughter. What do you mean one life? You’re proposing surgery—but the fetus has a severe heart defect, renal agenesis, developmental delay! Who are you trying to save?
– The second fetus has normal ultrasound findings. Heart activity is within norms, blood flow is adequate. That child is completely healthy—but at this moment, – Bahar didn’t finish.
– Esra could go into preterm labor from the stress and her existing heart condition, – Serhat interrupted. – How do you plan to monitor her condition in case of decompensation during surgery?
– We’ll perform a selective reduction under continuous cardiac monitoring, with prior preparation and support, – Bahar turned to them. – There’s no alternative—keeping both puts all three lives at higher risk.
Rengin raised a hand, asking for silence:
– Let’s be rational, – she said. – We have two viable options: full termination of the pregnancy, or selective reduction. The third—waiting and hoping for a miracle—doesn’t work. We all know that.
Serhat clenched his fists.
– As chief physician of this hospital, you should understand the risks! – his voice trembled. – My daughter won’t survive the double load. Her heart’s already at its limit.
Bahar stepped closer to him:
– I understand your fear. But if we do nothing, they’ll all die. The second fetus has excellent indicators. We can preserve a healthy life. Your daughter can become a mother—you have no right to take that from her!
Rengin opened a folder:
– Let’s review the protocol. We have echo results, CTGs of both fetuses, Doppler data. Everything shows the second fetus is viable. With proper care, there’s a chance to carry to term.
Serhat sank into his chair, rubbed his face.
– And if she doesn’t make it? If her heart fails? I can’t risk her life.
Bahar sat down beside him.
– We’ll develop a detailed care plan. Continuous heart monitoring, hormonal support, bed rest. The moment anything worsens—immediate hospitalization. We’ll do everything to minimize the risks.
Rengin nodded:
– We can’t ignore the chance to save at least one child.
Serhat closed his eyes, shook his head:
– Time is against us. The sooner we decide, the better the chances.
Rengin gathered the papers.
– Sometimes, to save the tree, you have to cut one branch—to preserve the trunk. It hurts, but the tree will live and bloom again in spring, – she almost touched his hand, but didn’t.
– I used to believe I could save everyone, – Bahar spoke, and Serhat looked at her. – Maybe I even got lucky. Now I understand—even if one baby is born healthy, and she lives, becomes a mother—that’s a victory. It’s not a miracle, – she almost smiled, – or maybe it is a miracle, just a different one. A more earthly, real one, – her voice dropped to a whisper.
Serhat said nothing. He stood, paced the room.
– You can monitor your daughter’s condition yourself, – Rengin suddenly said. – Since your daughter chose Bahar as her doctor, you can transfer here. We have vacancies. Esra will be staying in the hospital for several months, – she added, – and I assume you’d like to be near her.
Serhat approached the table, placing his hands on the back of the chair. He looked from Bahar to Rengin.
– I need to speak with my daughter, – he finally said something, turned, and walked out of the office.
He hadn’t said yes or no. Bahar understood. He was both doctor and father—just like she had once fought for her grandchildren. But she was interested in something else.
– Are you hiring new staff already? – she turned to Rengin.
– Bahar, not now, – Rengin stood up.
Bahar had more questions ready to burst out, but Rengin was right—not now.
– Do we know who the survivor is yet? – she asked at last.
Rengin simply shook her head.
– I need to see Çağla, – Bahar stood, pushed the chair in, and walked out of the office…

…She had gotten used to walking the hospital corridors during those long months, when she had practically moved into the hospital after he left. Bahar walked slowly, as if each step took effort. Why was she thinking of Evren more and more often? They hadn’t crossed paths once this evening, and yet there had been a moment—back at her house—if not for the news of the plane crash, maybe they would have… No. Bahar swallowed hard.
– Professor Evren, your documents are ready, – someone said, mentioning his name, and it made her stop in her tracks. – Just need your signature, and that’s it.
She froze near the wall and just looked at him while she still could. From afar like this, unable to get closer, unable to discuss the upcoming operation with him. He’d surely heard about the case by now and could have said the words she needed—those special words that reached deep into the soul and gave comfort.
Maybe deep down, she had still been hoping, even without expecting it, that he would come to her—because this was the first case of its kind in her entire career. And the Evren she used to know would’ve already found her. But the one signing documents now wasn’t him. She still couldn’t quite accept the fact that someone could change so drastically… or maybe the real question was—had she ever known him at all?
“Signature, and that’s it.” She only just now registered the full meaning of those words. That’s it. Bahar leaned against the wall. He had made his choice. He had made a decision. A faint smile touched her lips. She suddenly wanted to close the distance—just ten steps—and hug him. Just press herself to him and feel his arms around her… and then let it all go. But she didn’t move. And neither did he.
Evren had frozen too, locking eyes with her. If there had been news, he would have approached her. Her fingertips burned with the desire to feel his warmth; her chest ached, and her legs trembled slightly, ready to take a step. But she just looked at him. Strange, how they had somehow lost even the ability to speak. It baffled her, but she didn’t want to impose anymore. She had done everything. She had been ready to meet him halfway… if he had taken even one step toward her, she would have crossed the rest of the distance herself.
– Should I take the documents to Professor Rengin? – the same young woman who had handed him the paperwork asked.
– I’ll do it myself, – he replied calmly.
Bahar nodded. She smiled softly, turned, and walked away. Why was she standing there watching him? Enough. She needed to stop torturing herself with questions she already had the answer to. And really, what could he say after what Umay had said—what Cem had overheard? In the past, she would’ve tried to explain. But now, what for? Maybe it was for the best that everything had happened this way. For the best.
And yet, without meaning to, she slowed her steps—hoping to hear the familiar sound of his footsteps. But he didn’t follow. And maybe that too was for the best.
– Bahar? – Çağla lifted her tired eyes to her.
– My dear, – Bahar sat down beside her on the bench. – Why are you still here? – she wrapped her in a hug. – Why are you sitting outside this stranger’s room? Do you really think it’s him?
– He’s all alone, you understand? – Çağla leaned into her shoulder. – Alone. No one’s looking for him. No one comes.
Bahar held her even tighter.
– I stayed so he wouldn’t be alone, – she whispered.
– Sometimes we stay for the sake of memory, – Bahar nodded, choosing not to argue or try to convince her otherwise.
– And for hope, – Çağla sighed.
– Why are you here? – Çağla leaned back a little.
– A pregnant girl was admitted. It’s complicated, – Bahar shook her head, unwilling to go into detail.
They fell silent, and then hugged again.
– You need to go see her, don’t you? – Çağla whispered.
– And you need to go home—come to our place or wait for me, – Bahar offered, eyes still closed.
– I won’t leave the hospital, – Çağla gently pulled away. – I’ll stay right here and won’t move.
She no longer kept repeating that Tolga was alive. It was as if she simply needed to be in that hospital—where he had worked. To stay in the place he might be brought if found.
– I’ll wait, – Çağla closed her eyes and leaned back.
– Then I’ll sit here with you for a while, – Bahar did the same, closing her eyes and resting her back against the bench.
– Let’s not talk, okay? – Çağla asked quietly.
Bahar just nodded, knowing Çağla couldn’t see her, but she didn’t say another word… She didn’t notice the tear that rolled down her cheek—he hadn’t taken that step. Bahar bit her lip and clenched her fingers tighter. She smiled… without opening her eyes…

***

…Her eyes had remained dry for a long time now. She no longer cried, no longer wailed. After Bahar and Çağla left, everyone else seemed afraid to disturb the silence that settled over the room. They just sat there, patiently waiting for news. Occasionally, Uraz or Siren would go upstairs to check on the children, then come back down again.
– It’s strange, – she said it so quietly that Gülçiçek had to scoot closer to Nevra. – I’m not really his mother, but why does it hurt so much?
Nevra looked at Reha, while Gülçiçek wrapped an arm around her shoulders.
– I never knew how to treat him. He was just a boy, – she said with some confusion. – A stranger at first, and then… – she choked up, but held back the tears – I didn’t love him right away. Not like a mother. But I did love him. Or… am I not allowed to?
Reha handed her a glass of water and sat down on her other side.
– Love isn’t a contract, – he said gently. – Not everyone begins to love the moment a child is born. For some, it comes later—with habit, with a look, with pain. – While he spoke, Nevra took a sip of water. – But that doesn’t make it any less real.
– Remember how even when he was grown and sick, – Gülçiçek added softly, glancing at Umay, Parla, and Yusuf – he always came to you. Called you, even when you’d argued.
– And now I don’t know who I am, – Nevra admitted honestly. – I’m not his mother, but it hurts. It hurts so much, – she pressed a hand to her chest. – I don’t know how to live with it.
– Loving is enough, – Reha took the glass from her. – The rest will come in time.
Nevra sniffled, but still didn’t let the tears fall. The three of them sat quietly on the sofa, in the same living room that had once been full of arguments, disagreements, and wounded pride. Who would’ve thought that Gülçiçek would become her anchor…

***

…He had been her anchor all those 23 years… or maybe she had been his. Serhat placed his hand on the doorknob but couldn’t bring himself to enter his daughter’s room.
Twenty-three years ago, he hadn’t been able to save his wife—Esra’s mother. He had feared childbirth, feared that he might lose her during labor. And he had lost her. Her heart had failed the moment she gave them their daughter… and with her life, she passed on her illness too.
Serhat understood that history was repeating itself. Back then, he hadn’t insisted—he had believed. Now, he trusted no one, not even himself. He let go of the doorknob and stepped into his daughter’s room.
The sound of machines, pale walls with bright splotches from the paintings. The bed, the wires, the monitors. He had seen all this a million times in his life—but only twice had someone dear to him been lying on the bed.
– I won’t give up my babies, – Esra said slowly, sitting up in bed and leaning back on her pillows.
Serhat lowered his head, nodded, and sat down beside her.
– I already lost once. I wouldn’t survive a second time, – he confessed.
– Dad, – Esra gently touched his hand – we don’t know how much time I have left. I can’t have a donor heart, and mine could stop at any moment.
Serhat’s shoulders sank. He squeezed her hand and brought it to his lips. He kissed her skin tenderly, and she felt the dampness on the back of her hand.
– I save so many people. Everyone but you, – he whispered, unable to hold back the tears.
– That’s why I want to give birth. I want you to have someone—someone to live for, – Esra moved closer and hugged him. – You never remarried. You never brought another woman into the house.
– Can one truly love life, knowing its cost is another’s? – he lifted his head and looked at her with tear-filled eyes. – I see how strong you are, – he whispered – but I want to see you alive. Happy.
– Mom died giving birth to me…, – she searched his eyes – I understand her so well now, – tears rolled down her cheeks – she chose me over a few more years with you. And you… – she drew even closer, tightening her embrace – you don’t blame me for her death, do you? Then don’t blame my babies either. Let them live. They’re healthy. You can’t let anyone take their lives away.
A broken sound escaped his lips as he wrapped his arms around his little girl, holding her tightly to his chest. He would gladly have taken on all her pain, all her fears… but he couldn’t. He couldn’t even bring himself to tell her that the boy wasn’t viable, and the girl had a chance—a fragile one, suspended between life and death—and that she herself was in critical condition.
– Has Dr. Bahar not come yet? Dad, are you not letting her in? Why hasn’t she come? Are my babies okay? – Esra trembled in his arms.
– She’ll be here soon. She’s your doctor, – he said, gently cupping her face in his hands. – You picked the best doctor, sweetheart. She really is the best. She’ll take care of the babies—and I’ll take care of you, – he smiled through his tears.
– What are you saying? – her eyes widened.
– They offered me a position here. And since you want to stay under observation, I’ll be nearby, – he told her.
– You won’t try to stop me anymore? – she asked very carefully.
– I’ll try, every day, every second. But it’s your choice. I’ll be here. But God, how hard it is to accept it with my heart… – he admitted.
Serhat brushed her hair away, wiped the tears from her cheeks, ignoring the ones running down his own face, and continued:
– If… if I’m left alone… I’ll raise them, you know that, right? I promise you—I’ll raise them. But you… you’re not allowed to leave me, – he said, pulling her into his embrace again…

…No one had held him close to their chest in a long time. Yusuf sat watching how Umay’s family supported one another, held together. They had accepted him, too. Welcomed him into their family, refused to let him go. Yes, he had agreed—almost by accident—to help Bahar when she had run after Çağla. Only later did he learn that Çağla was one of Bahar’s closest friends. And just like that, in one evening, he had met almost everyone—except Professor Evren. He hadn’t even had a chance to introduce himself. Bahar didn’t manage to, and then the professor left, and Yusuf found himself a reluctant hostage in this living room, where leaving felt inappropriate—but staying felt unbearable.

– I think I’ll go, – Yusuf looked at Umay.

It was another attempt to break free of this house, though he wasn’t sure why he both wanted and didn’t want to leave. He liked watching this family—of which he’d become an accidental guest—but with everything that had happened, could he still stay? Before the crash, Bahar had promised to help with his schooling. She’d even found him a tutor, and Professor Reha hadn’t objected to helping him. But all that was before the crash was announced.

– No, – Umay wiped away a tear as it rolled down her cheek – not now. Don’t leave us. Mom will come for you anyway. Please, – she moved closer to him – don’t. Mom has enough to deal with already.

– That’s exactly why, – Yusuf said quietly – I don’t want to be a burden.

– You don’t understand, – Umay touched his hand – she’ll bring you back anyway. Better to wait for her here.

– Umay’s right, – Parla sipped her water and placed the empty glass on the table. – It’s better if you stay.

– I just don’t understand – he hesitated – why now, – he admitted.

– I didn’t understand what I said either, – Umay sighed heavily. – And Cem – she tried his number again – still not answering. Not reading my messages.

– He’s clearly hurt, – Yusuf said. – Really hurt.

– You hurt him, – Parla whispered.

Umay jumped up from the couch and stood before them.

– Yes, I said it. I admit it, – she spoke quietly, gesturing with her hands – but I didn’t mean any harm. It just slipped out. I was nervous. Do we really have to take it so seriously? Even Mom understood. Why did he run off?

– Who exactly? – Siren joined them, watching as Uraz headed up the stairs.

– Why can’t they let me just be? Why does everyone take everything so personally? – Umay burst out. – Am I supposed to monitor every word I say for the rest of my life? – she looked at Siren. – How is that a life? Living in fear that you’ll say the wrong thing, do the wrong thing, act differently than what people expect from you? What kind of life is that, where you can’t just be yourself?

– Oh, Umay, – Siren pulled her into an embrace – life is hard sometimes.

– No, – Umay struggled in her arms – yes, I said it, – she nodded – I admit it. And you know what? I’m furious! – she almost stomped her foot. – Look around, – she gestured to the living room – only our closest family and friends are here, and? Where is he? Where’s Cem? He should be here! Right now! Is that too much to ask? Is that selfish of me? A game? – she looked around again, then suddenly wrapped her arms around Siren tightly, as if for the first time asking for protection – because if he’s not here for me now, in a moment like this – she exhaled sharply, glancing at everyone – then it’s not love at all.

Siren held her close, realizing just how much the girl in her arms had grown up.

– We all make mistakes, – Siren said gently.

– I know, – Umay whispered, burying herself in her shoulder – but not now… not in a moment like this…

***

…And still, she found a moment to step out onto the terrace. She had made up her mind — she had done it before, and now, while he was still somewhere in the hospital, she had to learn to be on this terrace with him still in the world… and later, without him. She had already started, involuntarily, to accept his decision to leave for good. Maybe that was for the best. Too much had been said — and even more had remained unsaid.

Bahar walked to the edge, pressed her feet to the wall, and leaned forward, bracing her hands on the railing. The night had wrapped the sleeping city in darkness, scattered with twinkling lights — but she didn’t see it. She had closed her eyes and was simply breathing.

This time, the tears didn’t come. Just inhale… exhale… the cool breeze wrapped around her shoulders. That morning had been her mother’s wedding. He had come, danced with her, and they had almost kissed… and then came the crash, and then Esra…

Bahar lowered her head. She didn’t understand how she was still standing. And yet, she still had a conversation ahead — with the patient. Then, preparation for the surgery. She knew the operation would be within days. First, they had to stabilize Esra.

Bahar tensed the moment she heard footsteps approaching…

To be continued...