Alone... almost in the dark, only their breathing, the hum of the air conditioner, and sounds from the street.

— Does it hurt? — Evren gently squeezed her fingers and brought them to his face. — Why did you do that? You have to protect your hands. You should’ve kicked me instead. Never sacrifice your hands again! You're a surgeon — your hands matter!

His lips touched her palm. Bahar's eyes closed, her breath slowly evening out, while he kept kissing her fingers, as if that could ease the ache.

— Alternative medicine? — she finally spoke, opening her eyes. — Did I hit you hard? — her fingertips brushed his cheek, making him freeze. — Come on, — she tugged him toward the exam table.

Still holding his hand, she turned on the lamp and directed the light at his face, forcing him to squint. She pushed him closer to the table, and he sat down, though their hands remained clasped.

— And you? — he said quietly.

— What? — she didn’t understand.

— Alternative method, — he reminded her, searching her eyes.

She almost hit him again but softened it — just nudged his shoulder, studying his cheek.

— Not fatal, — he mumbled, flustered, but her care was so comforting, he could sit there forever. — But dramatic, — he admitted, — honestly, I probably deserved it.

Bahar smiled, and he immediately took over. He had to let go of her hand, jumped down from the table, gently lifted her up and sat her down instead. He opened drawers quickly, while she just watched him in silence. He applied something to her fingers and carefully wrapped them.

— Don’t take it off until after the surgery, — he said, leaning in.

Their foreheads were nearly touching, but he froze — and she tilted her head, closing the gap again.

— Why did you believe me? — he asked so softly she barely caught the words.

Her fingers touched his hair, then returned to his cheek. Her touch was feather-light, and he closed his eyes, savoring the fleeting affection.

— I just feel it, — she whispered.

— Bahar, — he shifted slightly, slowly, inch by inch until his cheek brushed against hers.

She wasn't sure, but she thought his lips briefly touched her cheek… or maybe it just felt that way. He found her fingers again, and her palm was enveloped in the warm comfort of his hand.

— In the OR, we both have to be precise, — Bahar whispered.

— If one of us slips, the other will catch, — Evren continued, and she raised her other hand to wrap around him, holding him even closer. — I’ll kill whoever did this.

— Don’t. We’ll get through it, — she said softly.

And that "we" made his heart race. His eyes stung. It didn’t mean she had accepted him — it just meant one thing: she hadn’t believed the setup. A small step forward. He wanted so badly to kiss her, as she clung to him so trustingly in that quiet treatment room, while people outside were still making bets — but he didn’t dare. It was too soon, too fragile, too uncertain.

— You need to rest, — they said at the same time again.

— Time is running short, — she added, — the surgery will take hours, Evren, you need to sleep.

— So do you, — he didn’t want to let go, he could stand there forever, just breathing in her perfume, feeling her warmth, listening to the rhythm of her heart.

— I need to check on my mom, — she whispered, shifting in his arms.

— I don’t care, I’m coming with you, — he leaned back a little, searching her eyes.

— Oh, Evren, — she sighed, frowning.

He immediately frowned too. Bahar looked so puzzled — not alone, she had never been alone. That phrase floated back into his fevered mind. She hadn’t been, wasn’t, and wouldn’t be — he finally understood.

— Alright, — he relented suddenly, — but just for now. I’ll earn back the trust of every member of your family.

— Evren, — she pressed her hand to his mouth, silencing him, — please, — she said. — Now it’s really complicated.

— This isn’t the end, — he mumbled into her hand, and she let go.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket, and she immediately pulled it out. Evren waited silently and patiently as she read the message.

— Professor Reha’s test results are in, — she said aloud.

— And? — he sat next to her on the table, not trying to peek at her phone.

— His potassium is unstable, EKG shows abnormalities, — she sighed. — INR’s off the charts, fibrinogen at the lower limit.

Evren pulled her close, and she nestled against his shoulder.

— Has cardiology seen him? — he asked.

— Serhat already postponed the surgery, — she whispered, noting how his body instantly tensed at the sound of that name, — we can’t take the risk, not now.

Evren nodded, running his fingers through her hair. He reached her braid, and she groaned.

— No, don’t undo it, — she pleaded, — not now.

— Twenty-four hours, — Evren whispered, — Reha will be fine, and I’ll assist Serhat. For now, we start plasma and monitor. I won’t let him bleed on the table, — he said. — I’ll be there, I’ll assist.

Bahar nodded, slowly pulled away from his arms, and slipped down to the floor. Evren was still sitting, watching her. He suddenly felt cold when she stepped away, when she no longer touched him.

— Get some sleep, — she asked. — Right here, — she took a step back, never taking her eyes off him.

— You’re leaving? — his voice cracked.

She just nodded, said nothing else, explained nothing, quietly opened the door, and slipped out. Evren sat on the exam table, hands braced against it, staring at the door. He listened to her footsteps… still believing, still hoping she would come back… but she didn’t… she left to be with her family… a family he so desperately wanted to be part of…

***

...he wanted to be useful to all of them — and he was. Yusuf was sitting in the security room, watching footage with the guards. He didn’t know how Bahar had managed to convince these uniformed men to let him in, only that she must’ve gone to great lengths to make it happen.

— Kid, are you sure you even know who we’re looking for? — asked the older man, adjusting the collar of his shirt. — We’ve been reviewing footage from all cameras for over an hour.

— Yes, he’s definitely in the hospital, — Yusuf didn’t take his eyes off the monitors. — He didn’t leave, the cameras didn’t catch him going out, — he rubbed his eyes without pausing.

— Did he do something? — the younger guard asked suspiciously.

— No, — Yusuf replied too quickly. — We just want to surprise him.

He remembered Bahar’s request — find Cem and report back to her immediately… before he does something. She’d muttered that under her breath on her way out, thinking Yusuf hadn’t heard, but he had, and it worried him. He hadn’t forgotten the conversation between Umay and Parla about Cem. How had this guy managed to stir up so much trouble and concern?

— Isn’t that him right there? — the younger guard rewound a bit of the footage. — Is that who you're looking for? — he asked, and Yusuf saw someone resembling Cem, with a laptop in hand and a cap pulled low over his eyes, peeking out from behind a door before darting back into the stairwell.

— When was that? — Yusuf stared at the frozen frame.

— Half an hour ago, — the older guard yawned and stretched.

He didn’t see any danger in Cem, lounging in his chair in a relaxed pose.

— So the stairs then, — Yusuf stood up. — How do I get to that wing? — he asked, frowning slightly.

— He’s here too, look, — the second guard paused another frame. — That’s the right wing, you need to go to the elevator on the other side of the hallway, — he gestured. — The internet’s stable there, by the way, — he added for some reason.

— Thanks, — Yusuf opened the door and stepped out.

He glanced back and then started walking down the corridor, picking up speed. Did Cem really not realize how many cameras there were in a hospital? For the first time, Yusuf felt how paradoxical invisibility could be. Cem was hiding in a building where everyone saw him — and no one noticed.

One thought kept circling in his head — find him before Evren does. He didn’t know exactly what Bahar had meant, but he could feel that more depended on him now than he could fully grasp…

***

— I understand, — Çağla whispered softly. — Now he’s with family, he’s not alone, and that’s how it should be. No one should be alone. And it’s time for me to go.

— You’re with us, — Bahar embraced her. — You’re our family, and we’re yours.

Çağla sighed, her face almost devoid of emotion.

— I want one of my own so badly, — she said barely audibly. — A child, a man, someone to rush home to, someone to live for — you understand, Bahar. I was one step away from that. And then that plane took Tolga from me… and took your children’s father too, — she glanced at the girls. — And now Parla is with you. You’re never really alone. And I’m just… so tired of being alone, — she confessed. — For as long as I can remember, I’ve always been alone.

— You won’t be, — Bahar said sharply. — Tonight, you’re coming home with the girls and Nevra. You’ll stay in my room, — she offered. — Tomorrow, phew, — she exhaled, — once the surgery’s over, I’ll try to come back right away. Oh — she exhaled again — after the bypass is done. But you won’t be alone. Umay, Parla, Nevra, Mert, and Leyla, — she smiled at the thought of her grandchildren.

— No, — Çağla suddenly refused. — I can’t keep using your family, hiding behind it to mask all my fears, mistakes, and failures. No, sweetheart, I can’t keep sheltering behind your family. That’s enough.

— Çağla, my dear, I can’t let you go home alone, — Bahar didn’t release her from the embrace.

— How much longer will you pretend, holding your grandson or granddaughter, that you’re not thinking about the baby you and Evren lost. You could’ve had a little one too, — Çağla gently tapped her nose. — You don’t talk about it. Evren doesn’t either. You both lost that child and never spoke about it. You never lived through it, — she nodded — and maybe you won’t get another moment for that talk. Maybe there won’t be another chance. Just won’t. Ever. Do you understand? — her eyes turned red. — What’s left are only questions you’ll ask yourself — why, how, what for — and no one will ever answer them. Just emptiness and questions, loud enough in the silence to tear you apart, shatter your soul — and there’s no fixing it, no putting the pieces back together.

— Çağla... — was all Bahar could say.

She held her loyal friend tightly.

— Talk to each other, — Çağla suddenly pleaded, — please, talk. Even if not for yourselves, not for each other, — she sniffled, — do it for me, for Tolga. We don’t get that chance anymore, but you do. Don’t waste it, Bahar. Let someone live through what we never could. And Evren…

— Shh, — Bahar pressed her palm to Çağla’s lips. — Not now, please, — she said, glancing toward Uraz.

— What? — Çağla turned.

Uraz was nearly asleep, nestled on Siren’s shoulder. She was stroking his hair, blinking often, clearly struggling to stay awake.

— I need to get them some rest, — Bahar sighed, letting go of Çağla. She checked her phone, then shoved it back into her pocket. — The surgery’s soon, and they’re barely standing. We’ll need everyone. Everyone’s got to be ready. And that observer from the board — why is he even here? — she shrugged, confused. — Rengin, — she remembered suddenly, — I need to talk to Rengin. But first, I have to get everyone home.

— Bahar, I’ll take the girls and Nevra, — Çağla caught and squeezed her hand, grabbing her attention.

— Thank you, — Bahar exhaled with relief. — Yusuf’s busy, can’t do it. Thank you.

— Bahar, remember what I asked, — Çağla looked into her eyes.

Bahar dropped her gaze for a moment and nodded. She didn’t know when or how — but maybe, someday, there would be a time for that conversation with Evren. But not now. Everything was too tangled, too complicated to begin… and why now, anyway?

Bahar kissed Umay and Parla. Nevra hugged her and handed her a small cup.

— At least drink some tea. You haven’t eaten anything, — she whispered, almost shyly.

Bahar nodded, knowing that for her mother-in-law, these small acts of care were unfamiliar territory — but she was trying. For the first time in her life, Nevra was trying to show affection in her own way… and she was managing. Something was happening with Nevra, but Bahar didn’t pry, giving her time to process Timur’s death. Everyone coped in their own way.

Bahar nudged Uraz awake, and Siren barely managed to lift him. They all headed to the rest room.

— Bahar, you get some rest too, — Siren called back, yawning, shaking her head to stay awake.

— I will, don’t worry, — Bahar saw the children off, then peeked into the patient room.

Reha and her mother were asleep. He was in the bed; her mother, curled up beside him on the couch. Bahar adjusted Reha’s blanket, checked the monitor readings. She leaned over and kissed her mother’s cheek, and only then left the room.

She paused near the door, and only when she slipped her hand into her pocket did she remember what she’d meant to do. She turned and headed down the corridor…

***

...he knew this hallway and the door to the room all too well. He’d passed by it so many times waiting for Bahar, especially after the video incident. But this time, Evren wasn’t looking for her. He had come here for another reason.

Bahar had left the treatment room — left him — yet somehow, she had given him a second wind. Only she could perform such miracles. Every time after speaking with her, new horizons opened before him, and he found himself capable of things he never would’ve dared before. Or even imagined.

Evren understood that perhaps other doctors wouldn’t have done this. He wasn’t chasing patients — not at all. He simply wanted to continue what had started in the OR. He wanted her heart to beat. He wanted her to see her daughter grow, to witness her first steps. It was with that thought that he knocked and entered the room.

Esra was lying in bed. She wasn’t asleep. Doruk was reviewing data and inputting it into a tablet — Bahar’s loyal assistant. Evren nearly smiled. Doruk didn’t realize he was already a doctor himself, still acting like an assistant. He glanced at Evren sideways, lips pressed into a tight line. Then he tapped something on the screen and set the tablet down on the table.

Evren walked closer, and Doruk stepped in front of him like a shield. Could he stop him? The room hummed with the soft noise of medical machines, and there was a quiet air of tension and fatigue. Esra opened her eyes the moment he approached. She watched him intently.

— Hello, I’m Professor Evren Yalkın, — she heard his calm, masculine voice.

— What? — her voice trembled with anxiety, and her hands instantly covered her belly.

— It’s alright, — Evren raised a hand. — Don’t worry. You don’t know me, but I was present during your surgery.

— Professor, — Doruk tried to block him again, but Evren had already stepped closer to the bed.

— I don’t know if anyone has spoken to you about a transplant, — he said quietly, glancing around.

Spotting a chair, he gestured to it:

— May I sit?

Esra nodded, her hands still protectively on her belly. Evren sat down. Now their eyes were level. That’s how he preferred to speak to patients — and it was easier for her to absorb what he was about to say.

— Your heart is depleted, — he said calmly, not breaking eye contact. His words immediately stirred a reaction in her body — the monitors beeped, signaling her rising anxiety — but outwardly, she stayed composed.

Evren glanced at the monitor — the pulse line had changed slightly, but nothing critical.

— That’s not news to me, doctor, — she answered steadily, though tears glinted in her eyes. — I’ve heard it all my life. But as you see, I’m still here. You haven’t surprised me. I know my heart stopped — Dr. Bahar told me. — She paused, gently stroking her belly. — I’m going to give birth to my daughter. I’ll leave him a daughter. She’s healthy — Dr. Bahar promised me my baby is fine. My son didn’t make it, — she sniffled, — but my daughter is strong. And my heart will hold out. It has to.

Doruk rested his hands on the edge of the bed and gripped it so tightly his knuckles turned white. He no longer tried to stop Evren — he had just joined his side. He was ready to beg Esra himself for the transplant, because the miracle Bahar had begun needed to continue.

Evren checked the monitors, then gently reached out, and she let him touch her wrist. He took her pulse, as if not trusting the machines, and only then continued.

— After the cardiac arrest, your heart’s contractility has dropped to a critical level. We’re supporting you with medication. But what we want, — he paused, still holding her wrist, looking into her eyes. — If we want you not just to make it to delivery, but to be there after, with your child — we have to prepare for a transplant.

He spoke with clarity and calm, no pressure in his tone. Doruk stood behind him, nodding silently, affirming every word.

— We’re seeing progress, — Evren went on. — But your body’s resources are at their limit. Your daughter feels everything you do.

Esra’s lips began to tremble, and Evren gently squeezed her hand. Her other hand dropped to the bed, fingers gripping the sheet — but she didn’t cry. She held it in, acknowledging everything he said — she knew her little girl could feel it all.

— It hurts, — she finally whispered. — I’m scared. — She turned her head and looked out the window, not at the city, but at the faint stars scattered across the night sky. — I want to see her… hear her say “mama.” I want to be there when she takes her first step, — her voice cracked.

— Then give yourself that chance, — he said, still holding her hand. — You’ve given one to your daughter. What about to yourself?

Doruk cleared his throat quietly behind him, as if it had caught, but Evren didn’t turn around.

— This isn’t an obligation. It’s an opportunity. I can place you on the transplant list, — he paused, and she turned back to him. He went on. — I’ll be with you if you choose this path. I can’t promise the organ will come quickly. But if you’re not on the list — we won’t even have the chance to save you.

Esra said nothing, her gaze locked on his. Too much swirled in her mind — all the complications, all the risks, all the consequences. No one broke the silence. Only she could decide whether to step onto this path.

The creak of the door broke the stillness, then footsteps approached. Serhat stopped by the bed.

— Esra? — his voice instantly tensed. — What’s going on?

Evren slowly let go of her hand and rose from the chair.

— We were just talking, Professor, — Evren said, meeting his eyes.

Serhat flinched, then quickly composed himself, placing his hands behind his back, standing upright. His gaze was cold, professional — but a shadow of something personal flickered through. Something that couldn’t be said in front of Esra. He masked it all with an unreadable expression.

— Can I speak with you? — he was barely holding it together.

— Of course, — Evren nodded. — The decision is yours, — he said to Esra.

— Dad, — Esra shifted slightly, and Doruk rushed to help support her. — Dad, what if I could live? Not just live — with her, for her. Can’t I at least try?

Her question hung in the air…

***

…The air on the stairwell was stale. The moment Yusuf closed the door behind him, the smell of disinfectants hit his nose. Clearly, the place had just been cleaned and sterilized — a sign on the door confirmed it. He grimaced, wondering how anyone could sit here for long, breathing in all this.

Yusuf moved quietly, listening for every sound, pausing often. He slowly approached the railing and looked down — then raised his head and locked eyes with Cem under his cap.

They stared at each other for just a couple of seconds before Cem bolted upstairs, and Yusuf sprinted after him. Cem knew someone was after him now… but it was too late. Far too late. They’d looked for him too long, remembered him too late. He’d already sent what he wanted to send, where he wanted to send it. That sinister smile returned to his lips.

He bounded up the stairs two at a time, gulping for air. His temples throbbed like hammers, pain pierced his chest, and he lost his breath. He nearly dropped the laptop, and at that very moment, Yusuf caught him. He grabbed his elbow and yanked him around.

— We need to talk, — his voice was firm.

— Since when? — Cem snapped back, immediately dissolving into a cough.

Yusuf’s nose burned, his eyes stung.

— Bahar said so, — Yusuf scanned the space for a way out. — You’re coming with me.

— Yeah, right, — Cem clutched at his shirt collar, twisting the fabric.

— You’ve poisoned yourself, — Yusuf stated flatly, taking him by the arm. — Keep acting like an idiot, and you’ll burn out your lungs — if you haven’t already.

Cem stumbled, and Yusuf grabbed the laptop from his hands. Cem’s legs were wobbling, but Yusuf led him confidently down the hallway.

— Where are you taking me? — Cem, despite his weakness and labored breathing, tried to resist. — I don’t care about any of them! — he burst out angrily.

Yusuf stopped outside an office and pushed the door open.

— They seem to care. Get in, — he led Cem into Bahar’s office, sat him in a chair, and only then shut the door. He stood on his toes and placed the laptop on top of a cabinet.

— They all think they can walk all over me, — Cem tried to stand. — Give me back my laptop, give it back — his voice was weak, but he still fought. — You think this is easy for me? You know what it’s like — to be nothing? Not even a backup — just a shadow?

Yusuf poured a glass of water and handed it to him.

— Drink, — he said curtly, opening a windowpane and letting in the night air. — And breathe!

Cem clutched the water and downed it in one gulp. His chest heaved, his eyes reddened, sweat beaded on his forehead, and his face turned pale.

— What…? — Cem tried to stand, but his legs trembled, and he sank back down.

Yusuf refilled the glass from a carafe and stepped back toward the door.

— You’re with her now, right? — Cem pulled off his cap and tossed it to the floor. — She was mine! — he let out a bitter laugh.

Yusuf leaned back against the door. He would’ve loved to punch this smug idiot — who clearly had no idea what he’d done… but had definitely done something. He was in this hospital to make sure it worked.

— Has she been fired yet? Huh? Has she? — Cem gasped for air.

Yusuf’s face changed — so he had done something to Bahar. He had hurt her? A thousand thoughts raced through his mind, but out loud, he only said one thing:

— You’re an idiot.

— I don’t regret it, — Cem’s eyes burned with hateful fire. — She deserved it. All of it. Especially after leaving my brother — Evren. She left him at the wedding table. Walked out, right in the middle of their wedding. And now she’s going to walk out of this hospital! — he was barely coherent, his voice hoarse, cracking — and then he doubled over, coughing hard. — I wanted her to suffer… just a little… the way I did.

— I pity you, Cem. I really do. You wanted to be noticed — well, congrats. You got noticed.

Yusuf closed his eyes for a second — finally, some pieces started to make sense. So they were going to get married — that’s why he’d slept over at her place… or with her… or maybe not. No, he still didn’t understand any of it. They didn’t get married, but they were still together, sort of, but not really… No. He refused to try and understand it anymore. He just needed to wait for Bahar.

Bahar. As soon as he thought of her, he pulled out his phone and sent a quick message. Then he looked back at Cem — whose very presence now made him feel like he needed a shower…

***

— Did they clean the stairwell? Is access blocked? — Rengin was asking Ahu. Despite the late hour, both were still at work.

— Yes, everything was done according to plan. We put up tape, posted notices, — her loyal assistant reported. — I found out who bypassed the security, — she added in a softer tone.

Rengin had almost sat down at her desk but stopped and looked at her.

— Who? — she mouthed silently.

— Rengin, — Bahar appeared at the door.

— Cem leaked the OR video, Bahar. Framed us all — him, — Ahu stopped mid-sentence and turned toward the door.

— What video? — Bahar closed the door behind her. — Another one?

— Another? — Rengin tensed. — What is going on?

— We’ll have to give an explanation, — Ahu continued, looking at Bahar. — Why our security was so weak.

Bahar stepped closer.

— What video are you talking about? — Rengin asked. — Ahu, what haven’t you told me? — she turned to her.

— The surgery video that made it to social media. That’s why the board sent an observer, — Ahu blurted out. — And also a video from the group chat. I don’t know more than that. But this observer might write a report that’ll block our transplant unit from opening.

Bahar groaned inwardly and sat down on the edge of the couch. She pressed a palm to her forehead, trying to piece together all the facts she already knew.

— That Adem Yurdakul — he’s a real snake, — Bahar said. — Cem probably wanted to hurt me, — she lifted her eyes to Rengin, — but ended up striking Evren directly.

— You think this is his way of getting back at you? — Rengin didn’t follow.

Ahu leaned in a little closer, listening carefully, trying not to miss a word.

— I think he doesn’t even understand what he’s done… and I’m afraid it might be too late already, — there was weariness in Bahar’s voice.

— It is too late. Ahu, go get some rest, — Rengin said, sitting down on the couch beside Bahar. — That’s enough for now, — she nodded.

Ahu straightened. She turned very slowly and walked toward the door, still listening intently. But Rengin and Bahar didn’t say another word — not until the door clicked shut behind her.

— They’ll fire me and Evren, — Rengin admitted. — Cem’s little stunt could ruin Evren’s reputation.

Bahar said nothing. The video of Naz’s kiss, the one Cem had recorded, now seemed like a childish prank compared to what he had done before that.

— He’s still in the hospital. I asked Yusuf to find him, — Bahar whispered, too exhausted to even stand up.

Cem’s underhanded moves — behind their backs, literally — had left her defenseless. She could fight external enemies, she could take on the system… but when someone close stabbed her in the back, it knocked the wind out of her.

— So what now? — Rengin looked at Bahar.