They walked in complete silence. Evren held her hand tightly and looked straight ahead. Bahar, matching his pace, could barely keep up. She didn’t even know where they were going — just walked beside him along the street, past the houses. She understood all his anger, the one he had just unleashed on her family, and at the same time she didn’t know how to bring him back home. They couldn’t just keep walking aimlessly, without any purpose.

The sound of their steps was drowned out by the hum of passing engines. Bahar glanced at him sideways — his stubborn expression, the sharpness in his movements. He seemed to be talking silently, without words, and she could almost hear his tirade. Bahar sighed. The air grew heavier, a faint breeze carried the smell of salt mixed with street dust.

— Silent? — he finally spoke. — You’ve got nothing to say? — he snapped, without turning to her. — You think I’m wrong?!

— Evren… — she tried to stop, but he pulled her forward, not letting her.

— Don’t even start! — he cut her off, as if he hadn’t just demanded an explanation. — This isn’t a fight! It’s family therapy! First, no one comes down for dinner, and then they wait for us to cook! Bahar — now he stopped himself, and she breathed out in relief, trying to steady her breath — I just told them to make their own dinner! To take care of you for once, — he reminded her. — Consider our humanitarian mission complete. They were waiting for us to feed them?! — he flared up again and turned to her.

— They were just waiting for us, — Bahar said softly.

— And I was waiting for this weekend! — Evren looked straight into her eyes. — You think your only obligations are to them? — he stepped closer.

Bahar nodded slightly. She wasn’t defending herself — just looking at him, barely holding back a smile… he looked so adorably angry. She so rarely saw him like this… and right now, she just wanted to hug him. She bit her lip to stop herself.

— Why do you keep trying to save everyone? — he asked, his voice quieter now, though his lips were still tight, his breathing short and quick. He clearly wasn’t calm yet, but his fury was cooling. — And who’s supposed to save you?

She knew he was angry — at her, at himself, at her home and everyone in it, at everything that kept coming between them. It felt like things kept repeating, leaving them no time for each other.

— I’m not drowning, — she murmured, swaying slightly as she moved closer to him, her hand resting on his shoulder.

Evren immediately pulled her into his arms, frowned slightly, studying her face, trying to see how she felt.

— Doesn’t mean you have to swim till you collapse, — he exhaled.

Bahar smiled and then glanced around, trying to find where that strong smell of paint was coming from. She noticed the empty scaffolding by a house across the street — the workers who’d been painting the facade were gone, leaving their buckets behind. She ran her hand over his shoulder, his arm, wrapped hers around his neck again and leaned into him, watching the uneven patches of light on the asphalt behind his back — uneven, like their heartbeat.

— You’re just angry, — she whispered, her breath brushing his neck. — And it smells like paint here.

— Obviously, — he agreed, softening. He squeezed her fingers, and they started walking again along the row of houses.

— And where are we going? — she asked cautiously. — Evren, let’s go back, — Bahar pleaded. — We’re both tired.

— No! — he declared firmly, glancing at her sideways. — There are too many of them there.

— And here it stinks of paint and it’s getting cold, — she slowed down, forcing him to do the same. — And I’m hungry.

Evren stopped and turned to her. He looked at her, frowning slightly, his face strange in the streetlight. He blinked, sighed, his shoulders dropping a little.

— What? — he asked again.

— I’m hungry, — she repeated. — Let’s go home.

— Are you serious right now? — Evren flared up again. — After everything that just happened?

Bahar looked at him, eyebrows slightly raised, as if letting him decide. She was hungry, she was cold, and she looked at him in a way that said: here’s a problem, and I’m letting you solve it.

Evren’s face changed suddenly. A familiar spark lit up in his eyes, and intrigued by his half-smile, she leaned a little closer.

— Taxi, — he suddenly raised his hand.

— Evren, — Bahar straightened up, looking at him in surprise.

— Come on, — Evren was already leading her toward the car that had stopped.

— Where are we going? — she asked as he helped her get in.

— Somewhere without hungry relatives, — he muttered and slammed the door.

He walked around the car, leaned to the driver’s window, whispered something, and got in from the other side. As soon as the car started moving, Evren leaned back in his seat. His fingers found hers, squeezed her hand. He placed her hand on his knee, his gaze fixed on the window, on the blur of passing houses and cars.

— We’re not going to the hospital, are we? — she asked cautiously, leaning toward him. — You’ve got Cem, — Bahar reminded him.

— Haven’t decided yet, — he said, clearly holding back a smile. For the first time that evening, he looked content—with what was happening, with being alone with her, driving through the night. — Maybe a hotel. We’ll solve all our problems there.

Bahar glanced at the driver.

— Evren, are you serious? — she looked at him, confused.

— This evening’s ours now, — he said, turning to her. — Mine! — he added. — And you’re with me! Umai, Parla, Siren, and Uraz can take care of themselves—they’re adults, no need to spoon-feed anyone!

— And Mert and Leyla? — Bahar sighed, trying to push away her anxiety.

— They’ve got parents, — he brushed it off.

— So you’re not going to kiss Leyla goodnight tonight? — she moved a little closer.

Evren chuckled, a satisfied smile spreading across his face.

— Tonight I’m only kissing you, — he whispered, so quietly only she could hear.

Bahar rested her head on his shoulder, tried to relax, tried not to think about home. She tried to just be a woman, to let him be a man. She wanted, just for a while, for them to exist without hospitals, without children, without anyone’s expectations…

***

Rengin walked out of the hospital, holding her bag in her hands. She looked into the darkness with tired eyes. Everyone already knew she had been dismissed, but no one spoke to her about it — except Bahar. Even Ahu, usually so loud, kept her distance, as if she couldn’t decide whose side to take.

Behind her, the hospital was still alive with other people’s voices and the glow of lights in the windows. Rengin stared instead at the sparse streetlamps, the nearly empty parking lot, and her car parked off to the side.

— Rengin, — she heard behind her, and didn’t even flinch.

She turned slowly. Serhat was walking toward her with quick steps. She so rarely saw him without his white coat — just trousers, a shirt with the collar unbuttoned and the sleeves rolled up.

— You didn’t have to come after me, — she tried to stop him.

— I did. I’m not leaving you alone tonight, — he caught up with her.

— You have a daughter, — she reminded him.

— That’s exactly why I have to, — he straightened his shoulders suddenly, though his eyes were red. — I have to believe she’ll live, — he whispered and reached out his hand.

Rengin gripped the handle of her bag tighter, as if holding on to it was the only thing keeping her afloat.

— You think that because I was dismissed, you… — she didn’t finish, falling silent.

— It’s a mistake, — Serhat took the bag from her hands and gently took her by the elbow.

— It’s a fact, — she remarked.

— I’ll stay by your side, — he said as if he’d just made up his mind.

Rengin sighed and let him lead her.

— By my side? — she repeated. — With me or with my failure?

— With you, — they stopped beside her car, and she pressed the button to unlock it.

— I don’t need pity, — Rengin started to walk around the car to the driver’s side, but Serhat stopped her and took the keys from her hand.

He guided her into the passenger seat.

— I don’t do pity, — he said, closing the door. — I do waiting, — he added once he sat behind the wheel.

— You know… I thought I’d already learned not to depend on anyone, — she turned away, swallowing with effort.

— It’s not dependence, — Serhat started the engine. — It’s just a moment when you can lean on someone, even for a second.

Rengin looked at him, realizing she hadn’t expected anything from him. Maybe he was right — maybe it wasn’t dependence. She had depended on Timur — for everything: his decisions, his opinion, whether he would call, whether he would come… Her whole conscious life had revolved around Timur and his choices.

— And if Yusuf really is your son? — she asked quietly. — What will you do then?

He stayed silent, steering out of the parking lot, eyes fixed on the road.

— Esra was actually glad, — he said after a pause. — Glad, as if she realized I wouldn’t be alone, — he forced a half-smile. — But it scared me. Because I don’t want her thinking about death. She’s spent her whole life walking hand in hand with it.

— She’s not thinking about death, — Rengin said, watching his profile. — She knows you can endure anything.

— I don’t know what to do if it’s true, — Serhat said, not looking at her, shrugging slightly. — Because Yusuf’s right—we knew the baby was born, Evren and I. And it was easier for us to pretend someone else was the father, — he admitted for the first time. — And now he’s grown up, right here beside us.

Rengin looked back at the road ahead.

— Everyone makes mistakes, — she whispered, thinking of her own situation. — Timur didn’t know about Parla.

— Parla isn’t your mistake, — he said, glancing at her.

Rengin nodded.

— And Yusuf isn’t your mistake either, even if he thinks so right now, — she said quietly. — His mother chose to raise him on her own.

— Yusuf knew, — he said tightly, gripping the wheel harder as the light turned red.

— Then he just needs to be sure who his father really is, — Rengin sighed. — For Parla, that mattered.

— I raised a daughter, — Serhat admitted. — But I’m not ready for a son. Not because I’m afraid — because I don’t know how to look him in the eyes. I don’t want to choose between Esra and him.

— Why does it have to be a choice? — Rengin asked softly.

— I’m used to caring only for Esra. She became the meaning of my life, — for the first time, he looked truly lost. — It’s been just the two of us for so long. I don’t know what it means to be a father to a son.

— That’s exactly it — you already know how to care, — she tried to reassure him. — You have a daughter. Maybe now you’ll have a son. You’ll learn.

Serhat shook his head, unwilling to believe it. He sighed and pressed the gas. The headlights sliced through the darkness — two beams of light, like two parallel destinies still moving side by side…

***

Bahar was beside him. Evren still couldn’t believe it — that he had actually managed to get her out of the house. Not just out, but to keep her from going back, to convince her to spend this evening with him. They walked into a small restaurant tucked between the glass storefronts of a shopping mall. The glass doors closed behind them, shutting out the noise of the street.

The soft, dim light, the smell of coffee and fresh bread, the faint jazz tune playing — everything seemed to invite them to slow down. But Bahar still couldn’t relax. She sat upright, not leaning against the back of the chair, as if still standing guard. Evren silently flipped through the menu, though his eyes didn’t move. He was just waiting for her to exhale.

— Evren, — Bahar leaned toward him. — We’re sitting in a restaurant while everyone at home is hungry, — she tried again to convince him to go back, speaking almost apologetically, as if trying to justify why they were here instead of home with the kids.

— There are adults at home, — he didn’t even look up. — They won’t starve. They won’t die spending one evening without you.

— I just… — she began, reaching her hand toward him.

— You just want to be everywhere at once, — Evren interrupted, meeting her gaze. — Not tonight! — he said firmly. — Tonight you’re with me.

Evren put down the menu and pressed his palm to the table — not touching her hand, but as if putting a period to the conversation. Bahar looked at him, then at the menu.

— And if they do something stupid while we’re gone? — she asked.

Evren leaned back in his chair. He was about to ask “like what,” but suddenly realized she was drawing him into an argument that would only end with them leaving the restaurant — and he wasn’t about to surrender that easily.

— Then we’ll have something to talk about over breakfast, — he said with a slight smile.

She watched him closely, not immediately processing what he meant… and then it hit her — they would go back home. He wasn’t taking her away forever. And somehow, that smile of his touched something inside her; her heart seemed to freeze for a second, then started beating twice as fast.

— You’re… — she didn’t finish, just breathed out and tilted her head slightly, as if admitting defeat.

— Stubborn? — he finished for her.

Bahar almost laughed, dropped her gaze, and said nothing — letting him think he’d won.

— What should we order? — he asked.

She smiled faintly, shook her head, and so he chose for both of them. The tea arrived right away, and she finally began to unwind a little, trying to forget everything that had happened during the day. No, she hadn’t forgotten the patient’s death, or Cem, or the kids, or Yusuf. The name Meryem Özkan was already on her lips, but when she saw his amused look, his relaxed posture, she pushed the thought aside. It wasn’t the end of the world — she could ask later.

Bahar couldn’t even remember the last time she’d gone anywhere. She still didn’t understand why Evren had picked a restaurant in a mall of all places. She lifted her cup and took a sip.

For the first time in a long while, she and Evren were spending an evening together. She glanced around, studying the space — her gaze slid over the glass wall, across to the gallery opposite, and lingered for a second on a bright jewelry ad flashing on a digital board. She was so absorbed that she didn’t notice Evren watching her — first her, then over her shoulder. She didn’t know that the mirrored wall behind her reflected everything she saw.

— Be right back, — he said suddenly, standing up and leaving the restaurant.

Bahar nodded. The warmth of the tea was finally seeping through her, her movements growing calmer, more measured. The waiter refilled her cup and walked away. She took a sip and leaned back, settling more comfortably, eyes half-closed. She suddenly wished she had a warm blanket — she could’ve easily fallen asleep… if his lips hadn’t brushed her cheek at that very moment.

Bahar opened her eyes. A small paper bag stood on the table in front of her.

— What’s this? — she asked.

Evren glanced around, then leaned toward her.

— I’m surprised, — he said. — You’re sitting here and not saving anyone. No fainting old ladies nearby?

— Evren, — Bahar squeezed his hand. — Don’t joke like that, — she pleaded. — You’ll summon them for real. — Her eyes shifted to the bag. — What did you buy? — she repeated. — Why?

Bahar peeked inside and pulled out a small box.

— Just because, no reason, — Evren murmured, watching as she held up a delicate necklace with a pendant that sparkled in the same color as her eyes.

Bahar examined it for a long time, then looked at Evren.

— Why this one? — she asked.

Evren carefully took the necklace from her hands. He opened the clasp, and she had to sweep her hair aside as he fastened it around her neck. The pendant settled in the hollow of her collarbone, and he closed the clasp.

— Because this stone looks like your eyes when you’re mad at me, — Evren whispered, and, squeezing her shoulders gently, kissed her temple.

Bahar laughed — light and unrestrained, a laugh he hadn’t heard from her in so long.

— You’ve surprised me, — she admitted honestly, lifting the pendant to look at the gem in its setting. — And you know what? — she glanced at him. — I think I’m starting to like that.

— I’m hoping for a mutually beneficial exchange, — his lips curved into a pleased smile.

Bahar’s eyebrows lifted slightly. She gave him a mysterious smile but didn’t answer. He was just about to sit back down when suddenly a man in a chef’s uniform burst into the room, shouting.

— Any doctors here?! — he yelled, clutching a knife from which blood was dripping.

— Evren, — Bahar’s face changed instantly. She was ready to scold him for his earlier words, but pushed every thought aside — the doctor in her woke up in an instant.

— Bahar? — he reached out his hand to her, and she took it, rising to her feet.

— Stay behind me, — Evren warned, stepping forward. — What happened? — They approached the man together. — Put the knife down, — Evren said calmly, firmly, holding his hand out, blocking Bahar from getting too close, keeping her behind him.

The man turned toward him, his eyes wide with horror.

— There’s blood… so much blood… I pulled it out, I wanted to help, — he was babbling incoherently. — The child.

At the word child, Bahar pushed Evren aside and rushed into the kitchen. Evren went pale as the doors swung shut behind her. Cursing under his breath, he twisted the man’s wrist, snatched a towel from a waiter, took the knife, and laid it on the bar counter. Then he ran after her.

The kitchen smelled of hot oil and coriander. A woman was sitting against the wall, leaning on the fridge, her hands pressed to her stomach. Blood seeped through her fingers. Her apron was already soaked; a frying pan lay beside her. Bahar was already pulling on black gloves.

— Everyone step back! — she shouted, and the cooks instantly moved aside.

She knelt beside the woman. Evren grabbed a pair of gloves from a chef and slipped them on as he crouched down across from her.

— The knife entered at an angle, — Bahar said quickly, examining the wound. — Upper abdomen, near the midline.

— No arterial bleeding, — Evren noted, crouching beside her, — but she’s lost a lot of blood.

Bahar pressed a towel to the wound.

— Call an ambulance! — she ordered.

— Already called, — came a quiet voice behind her.

— We’ll take her to Peran? — Bahar asked.

The woman groaned, her eyes finding Bahar’s. She gripped Bahar’s hands, trying either to push them away or press them tighter.

— Press harder, — Bahar told Evren. — We need to stop the bleeding.

— Don’t move, — Evren said, pressing down on the towel. — We’ve got you.

Bahar checked her pulse.

— Her pressure’s dropping, — she said.

— Pulse volume? — he asked.

— Weak, — she shook her head.

They looked at each other — inhaled together, exhaled together.

— I need ice, cold packs, napkins — anything! — Bahar turned toward the line of stunned cooks. — Now!

— The child, the child… — the same man who had run into the dining area stood by the wall, trembling all over. — Our son.

— Get out! — Evren snapped, spinning toward him. — Now!

One of the staff led the man out. Bahar and Evren exchanged a glance.

— Evren, — Bahar swallowed hard, — she did it herself, — she said in a low voice.

— We’re not discussing that, — he replied quickly, nodding. — We’re saving her.

When blood suddenly surged again, Bahar pressed down harder with a second towel. Evren took over.

— Hold it, — he said, — don’t let go.

— It was an accident, — the woman whispered faintly. — The knife slipped… — she tried to explain.

— Don’t talk now, — Bahar said softly, forcing a small smile though her eyes were tense. — Later. For now, just breathe, all right?

— And the baby? — the woman clutched Bahar’s wrist in a death grip. — Will he… will he survive?

Bahar’s eyes dropped.

— Bahar, — Evren’s voice made her look up, — you’re shaking.

— I’m fine, — she breathed out, trying to steady herself. — Just hold it.

Evren could see how pale she’d gone. Still pressing the towel, he reached over and gripped her fingers. Their hands interlaced, forming a single improvised bandage. The woman’s breathing became ragged.

— Thready pulse, — Evren said, feeling her wrist. — Where’s that ambulance?!

— Where are they? — Bahar echoed him. — Call again! Tell them it’s a stabbing — possible pregnancy, massive blood loss! Hurry!

The woman wheezed, and Bahar immediately leaned closer to her face.

— Don’t close your eyes, — she urged. — Do you hear me?

Evren supported the woman’s shoulders, trying to ease her breathing.

— She needs to lie flat, — he said. — Head to the side.

They moved in perfect sync, no extra words — a team. Together they pressed the towel to the wound. Bahar monitored her breathing; Evren kept checking her pulse, wiping sweat from her forehead — then she did the same for him.

— Ambulance in two minutes! — someone shouted from the doorway.

— Bring the stretcher straight to the kitchen, not through the hall! — Evren called out, relief flickering in his voice.

Bahar didn’t let go of the woman’s hand until the paramedics arrived.

— Female, about thirty, pregnant, stab wound, — she reported quickly, — moderate blood loss, dropping blood pressure, shock.

— Got it, — one of the medics said, taking over. — We’ll handle it from here.

Evren helped lift the woman onto the stretcher, then stood watching as they carried her out, exhaling deeply.

— Evren, — Bahar had already taken off her gloves and moved to follow.

— We’re not going, — Evren said firmly, stopping her.

— But… — she faltered. — How can we...

— We did everything we could, — he said, tossing his gloves into the bin and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. — She’s alive.

— But Evren… — Bahar still couldn’t understand.

— She’s alive, Bahar. We’re not the only doctors in this city, — he said as they stepped out of the kitchen. — There are others to take care of her. And I still have hopes for our evening.

Bahar almost stumbled. She looked down at her hands, and nausea suddenly hit her; her vision dimmed. The image of the blood, the knife, was still vivid before her eyes.

— Guess dinner’s off, — she whispered, swallowing hard.

— Come on, Doctor Özden, — Evren said softly, his arm still around her. — You just saved another life tonight.

— We did, — Bahar tried to smile but couldn’t… She hadn’t saved Ayşe — or her baby. — We both did.

— One day, we’ll have a normal dinner, — he said bitterly. — I just wanted one normal evening.

— You wanted miracles, Evren Yalçın, — she said, looping her arm through his as they walked. — Well, here they are.

— Don’t even think about it — I’m not letting you go back to the hospital! — he said, that stubborn tone returning to his voice.

— Evren… — she made one last attempt.

— No! — he said firmly.

She touched the small pendant on her chest, still warm from his hands.

— Bahar, — he said as they kept walking aimlessly forward, — with you, I never know how the evening’s going to end.

Bahar’s brows lifted slightly; her lips curved into a faint smile.

— What now? — Evren asked when she suddenly turned not toward the exit, but toward the escalator.

— We’ll see, — she said calmly, though she leaned into him, just in case he tried to escape.

— This is a trap, — he muttered as Bahar pulled him toward a men’s clothing store.

— I listened to you. Now it’s your turn, Evren Yalçın, — and she practically shoved him inside, cutting off all paths of retreat.

***

Stepping out of the bathroom, Siren tossed her hair back and wrapped it in a towel. After the argument in the living room, the house had fallen strangely silent, despite how many people were still inside. The scent of shampoo mixed with baby cream and warm milk. Mert and Leyla were asleep in the next room. Siren checked on them, listened for a moment to make sure everything was fine, then returned to the bedroom.

Uraz was standing by the window, staring into the dark. In one hand, he held a cup of tea; in the other, his phone. He wasn’t drinking — just standing there, gazing out. A light wind rustled the leaves outside.

— They’re still not back, — he said.

Siren’s expression shifted. Of course, he was thinking only about Bahar and Evren — as if there were no other problems in the world.

— Looks like they’re not, — she said, sinking into a chair.

— We’re here eating sandwiches like students, and them? — he turned toward her.

— You could’ve cooked, — Siren shot back dryly. — What stopped you? There’s food in the fridge. And, mind you, you didn’t buy it! — her voice hardened, her gaze sharpened.

— Me? — Uraz exclaimed indignantly. — Are you serious?

— Why not? — Siren jumped to her feet. — Evren cooks, — she reminded him. — Bahar cooks.

— Evren, Evren… — Uraz slammed his cup down on the table. — Is everything about Evren now?

Siren didn’t answer right away. She tilted her head slightly, watching him like a mother watching a child mid-tantrum.

— You’re the one who wants to be like him, — she said quietly. — You’re learning from him at the hospital. Maybe it’s time to learn something outside of it too?

— I’m a surgeon, Siren, not a chef! — Uraz flared instantly, turning back to the window. — There’s nothing for me to learn from him at home! Nothing! He never had a family! Never! What could he possibly teach me — how to make soup?

— And why do you think Bahar should still be the one doing everything? — Siren stepped closer and turned him toward her. — Why are we still living off your mother, with our kids, like overgrown teenagers? You think that’s normal? — she shoved him lightly in the chest, forcing him to step back. — I’m your wife, but I don’t feel like one! — her voice shook slightly with emotion. — At work you’re a doctor, always competing with Evren, and at home you bully Bahar because you’ve decided you have the right to tell her whether she should have another child or not! Who are you, Uraz Yavuzoğlu? — she pressed him back against the wall. — You’re not just a doctor who comes home to sleep before the next shift. You have kids — your kids! You don’t even know who washes your clothes, who irons them, who keeps this house running! You have no idea, do you?

— I’m stretched thin as it is, — his shoulders tensed. — Two kids, the house, the bills...

Siren laughed out loud.

— The bills, Uraz?! The bills?! — she pushed him again. — When was the last time you paid a single one? Do you even know how much it costs to keep this house running? — she glared straight into his eyes. — You’ve got a mother who makes every decision for us, — she added more quietly. — You already have your own family, Uraz, but somehow you’ve decided to tell Bahar how to live hers! Have you even figured out your own life yet? You plan to live in this house forever? Seriously? Why? Because it’s comfortable? Convenient? You’ve never taken responsibility for anything, — she exhaled sharply. — The real question is, what will you ever take responsibility for, if Bahar’s still the one deciding what you eat?

— Don’t start! — Uraz snapped.

— Don’t start? — Siren nearly hit him. — You’re acting like a child!

— I’m not a child! — Uraz clenched his fists.

— Then prove it, — Siren demanded. — Take responsibility for your family. Stop hiding behind the hospital, your title, your father’s name, your grandfather’s legacy! Enough, Uraz!

— You think it’s that simple, huh? — his breathing quickened as he stepped closer, eyes locking with hers. — Money doesn’t fall from the sky, Siren. Kids need food, the house needs upkeep. My mom helps — so what? Is that such a crime? — he genuinely didn’t seem to understand.

Siren gave a bitter smile.

— No, it’s convenient, — she agreed. — So convenient you don’t have to make any decisions yourself. — He wanted to reply but said nothing. — I’m not blaming you, Uraz. I just want us to be a family. A real one. Our own home, our own walls. Not this eternal “my mom.”

Uraz ground his teeth and turned back toward the window.

— And if we can’t handle it? — his voice was quieter now, the bravado gone. — Are you sure we could manage on our own? We’ve got two little kids, everything’s here, we’ve got help.

— Exactly, help, — Siren stood beside him. — So much help that you’ve forgotten what it’s like to spend a weekend with your children. You’ve forgotten that you have me. You’ve forgotten us. Uraz, we need to become a family.

— I don’t want to make the same mistakes they did, — he blurted suddenly.

— They? — Siren frowned.

— Mom and Evren! — Uraz burst out. — She thought she had everything under control. And how did that end? An ectopic pregnancy, running away from her wedding, America. And now he’s back, and maybe soon they’ll have a child. Their child. And us? — he looked at her, confused and lost.

— What did you just say? — Siren couldn’t believe her ears.

— If my mom gets pregnant, — Uraz hissed through his teeth. — And if Yusuf is Evren’s son, do you realize what that means? We’ll have...

Siren didn’t let him finish. The sharp slap echoed so loud that Mert stirred in his sleep next door. Uraz froze, hand on his cheek.

— Don’t you dare, — she said quietly, trembling with anger. — Don’t you dare talk about your mother like that.

— I just— Uraz stammered.

— You’re just a fool, — she cut him off. — You’re afraid of everything — money, work, even your own family. You’re terrified someone might be stronger than you, because you refuse to grow up!

— Don’t you dare! — Uraz shot back. — If I were afraid, I wouldn’t have married you! I’d have gone abroad for that fellowship!

— Bravo, Uraz, — Siren clapped her hands. — You wanted to hurt me? You did. You wanted to prove you’re a man? Real men don’t throw words around — they act! — She stepped close, snatched the phone from his hand. — Tomorrow you’ll spend the entire day with the kids. The whole day!

— Siren, — panic flickered in his eyes.

— The whole day, — she repeated. — Maybe then you’ll understand what “family” actually means — that it’s not just a word.

She turned and walked out of the bedroom, not giving him a chance to respond. Uraz stayed there, alone… and for the first time, he felt real fear — realizing just how different he and Siren truly were… and how much more grown-up she was than him, while he seemed to be standing still.

***

She would have gladly left the place, but instead she walked forward with a kind of determined confidence — as if she knew exactly what she was doing. But in truth — she didn’t. She’d never liked shopping: the artificial light, the mirrors, the lines, the smell of new fabric. But today was different. It was the first time they were shopping together — and not just together, but picking out clothes for him.

For the third time, Bahar dragged Evren away from the rack of black T-shirts, trying to get him to focus on shirts, pants, long sleeves, sweaters… anything but black T-shirts. He had plenty of those — at least in her opinion, though clearly not in his.

And yet, there it was again — a T-shirt of an astonishingly black shade in his hands.

— Evren, — Bahar tugged at it, trying to wrestle it away from him. — You barely have any clothes, and you’re choosing the same thing you already own. No. We’re not buying this!

— I have enough, — he said, eyeing the mannequins like a surgeon doing patient rounds.

— That’s what you think, — Bahar countered, holding up a pair of trousers. — You wear the same shirts over and over.

— And I feel perfectly fine in them, — he replied, orbiting near her, though his gaze kept drifting back toward the dark-colored T-shirts.

— You could at least pretend to be interested, — she nudged his shoulder and jabbed him lightly in the ribs.

— I am interested — in watching, — he bent forward, wincing playfully as if she’d hurt him, — in how you’re trying to change my wardrobe.

— Then pay close attention, professor, — Bahar shoved a couple of shirts and trousers into his hands and marched ahead.

— Why are you doing this? — he asked, trailing behind with the air of a long-suffering martyr. — Did we agree to this?

— I warned you, — Bahar waved him off, determined to make the most of the trip. — Consider it therapy.

— What kind of therapy? — Evren tried to put back the clothes, but Bahar instantly returned everything he’d ditched.

— For stinginess, — she said sweetly.

— So I pay and get treated? — he leaned against a rack, feigning exasperation.

— Naturally, — Bahar said, scanning the shelves. — A mutually beneficial collaboration.

— And if the treatment fails? — he snorted.

— Then I’ll prescribe another round, — she said matter-of-factly, pulling a few pairs of jeans from the rack.

Bahar examined them at arm’s length, like a surgeon choosing instruments — light blue, gray, black.

— That’s it? — his eyebrow arched. — Three pairs? — he sounded genuinely shocked.

— Evren, — she turned to him. — That’s just the beginning.

He sighed heavily — the sigh of a man facing a long operation without anesthesia. Meanwhile, she was already reaching for the next item. Evren noticed it — the simplest black T-shirt, soft as a shadow. He picked it up, turned it in his hands.

— Then this one too, — he said.

— Black? — Bahar gave him a sideways look. — No.

— Why not? — Evren stubbornly placed it on top of the pile.

— Because everything you wear is dark — gray or black, — Bahar smiled, meeting his eyes. — I want at least one light or colorful thing.

— I stand for stability, — Evren retorted.

— And I stand for color, — she took the T-shirt and hung it back.

He waited a couple of seconds… and then quietly pulled it off the rack again, his gaze sliding over her figure almost unconsciously.

— Evren! — Bahar laughed. — You’re behaving like a child.

— I’m a surgeon, — he said. — Persistence is my specialty.

She took the shirt from him again and gently returned it to its place.

— Persistence isn’t a diagnosis, — she said.

— You sure? — he stepped closer. — You’ve got the same symptom.

— I just want, — she raised an eyebrow slightly, pausing deliberately — knowing he was focused entirely on her lips — you not to look like someone who just escaped from a night shift.

— And you act like a boss who wants to control everything! — Evren grumbled. — You’ll still have to convince me to try any of this on.

Bahar wanted to argue, but instead burst out laughing.

— Think I won’t find a way? — she teased, stepping closer and glancing around, checking if anyone was watching.

Evren’s breath caught instantly; he took a step toward her. Another moment, and the entire pile of clothes could have ended up on the floor. He was genuinely tempted to pull her into his arms and kiss her right there, forgetting where they were.

— You’re impossible, — she whispered, stepping back… though she wasn’t sure which of them had used the “forbidden move” first.

— You just realized that? — he grabbed a gray hoodie and — of course — the black T-shirt. — Compromise, — he said. — I’ll try on everything you picked if we get this one shirt. Otherwise, we leave with nothing.

— Just one? — Bahar asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

— Swear on the Hippocratic Oath? — he offered.

She studied him for a long moment, checking if he was bluffing.

— Fine. One, — she sighed in surrender.

That smile — the real one — lit up his face, the one that always made her breath catch. She hadn’t seen it in a long time: pure, unguarded, as if his heart itself was smiling.

— Then let’s go, Dr. Bahar Özden, — his eyes gleamed. — I’m ready for the experiment!

Still half-disbelieving that he’d agreed, she walked past the mirrors and mannequins, and he followed with an armful of clothes. Bahar glanced back to make sure he was actually following her into the fitting area. Evren looked like a man about to set out on a long journey.

— Evren, are you seriously going to try all that on? — she asked.

— Of course, — he replied. — I promised.

Bahar smiled. Evren followed her calmly, hiding a hint of amusement behind his grin. He felt like he’d gotten away with something — even though dinner hadn’t happened, even though the evening had gone off script. He knew exactly what he wanted. Watching her from behind, he thought how fiercely he wanted this stubborn, beautiful woman — the storm and the anchor of his life — one day to wear that same black T-shirt… his T-shirt.

***

Gulchichek put on her robe and stepped into the bedroom’s half-light. The night lamp fell softly across the bed and over the knitting she’d left unfinished on the bedside table. She was ready to sit back down and resume that automatic motion, stitch after stitch, but the little socks for Mert and Leyla had long since stopped being just a knitting project — they had become her way not to cry.

She looked at her husband. Reha was already lying on the bed, propped against a pillow. She knew perfectly well he wasn’t asleep. His breathing was too even, his fingers clutched the edge of the blanket too tightly.

— Don’t pretend you’re sleeping, — she sighed, moving toward the chair. — I can see everything.

— See what? — Reha opened his eyes and looked at her. — A man who’s tired of lying here doing nothing? — He dropped his gaze.

— I see a man who’s hiding something again, — she said with another sigh, sitting in the chair. — First you hid your pain, now — she broke off and picked up her needles.

— There’s nothing to hide, — Reha turned his eyes toward the window. — It’s just my heart a little… — he said suddenly, his hand lowering to his chest. He paused, as if the very word might betray his weakness. — …aching, — he admitted. — The weather, probably.

— The weather, — Gulchichek set the knitting aside. — Or your pride?

— You’re digging for drama where there isn’t any, — he snapped.

Gulchichek stood and came to him.

— No, — she leaned over him. — I want to see you alive.

Her palm came down on his chest; Reha winced, and she felt how erratically his heart was beating beneath her hand.

— Reha, — she whispered, and opened the nightstand. Taking out a pill bottle, she shook one capsule into her palm and held it out to him. — Why do you do this?

— I don’t need it, — he tried to wave her off, refusing the medicine.

— You do, — Gulchichek insisted. — It won’t go away on its own, — she forced his hand open and placed the pill in his palm, poured water into a glass, and handed it to him. — Drink.

She stood there patiently and waited.

— Gulchichek, I don’t want you turning me into an invalid, — he still put the pill in his mouth and took the glass from her. — I’ve spent enough time under IV drips.

Once she was sure he’d taken it, she set the glass back on the nightstand.

— You spent almost two weeks in the hospital as a patient! — she still stood beside him. — Two weeks, Reha. You practically lived there for years! You either complain or pretend you’re fine when you’re not. We came home and everything was all right until the phone call — and then it was like you’d been replaced! What’s going on, Reha?

Reha lowered his eyes.

— I just want… to do at least something, — he said quietly. — I need to feel that I can still be useful.

Gulchichek sighed and sat beside him on the bed. Her hand came down to his chest, and he immediately covered her palm with his own.

— Be useful, Reha — but to do that, you need to be alive and healthy, — she said, not hiding the sadness in her eyes. — I spent many years with a man who made use of my care and attention. Do you think I’ll make the same mistake again?

He pressed his lips together, wanting to answer, but couldn’t.

— I’m sorry, — he exhaled simply. — I… didn’t mean to ruin everything again.

— Again? — Gulchichek asked, studying his eyes, then fell silent.

Reha looked away, took the glass from the nightstand himself, and took a sip. He coughed, and she leaned in, helped him up a little, held him. She felt the tremor in his body.

— Lie down, — her voice softened; she stepped back a little. — Don’t play the hero, — she pleaded.

Reha sighed and obeyed. Gulchichek adjusted his pillow, pulled the blanket up, and this time he didn’t resist.

— Are you angry? — he asked without opening his eyes.

— I can see you’re anxious, — she answered. — And I don’t want to be left alone.

— I don’t want that either, — Reha opened his eyes and tried to smile.

— Silly man, — Gulchichek sighed and started to rise, but he grabbed her hand and held on.

— Don’t go, — panic crept into his voice.

— Reha… — she tried to free her hand.

— No, I won’t let you. It’s not right, — he looked at her, frightened.

— I can’t, — she said, but stayed sitting on the edge of the bed.

Reha pushed the blanket aside and sat up with effort; his gaze grew foggy.

— Then call a doctor, — he said, making his voice deliberately hoarse. — Bahar. Evren. Let everyone know I can’t cope.

— Don’t you dare! — she spun around sharply, her eyes flashing. — Don’t you dare blackmail me!

— Then stay, — his voice trembled, filled with a plea without reproach or pressure. — Just lie down beside me. We’re married, Gulchichek. You’re my wife — I won’t let you sleep in another room. If you leave, I’ll come to you and sleep on the floor by your side!

She pressed her lips together and looked at him for a long time, knowing he would do exactly what he’d said — he really would lie down on the floor. She sighed, fully aware he was, in a way, playing on her compassion. Reluctantly, she nodded and stood. Reha threw back the blanket, his eyes following her as she went around the bed, slipped off her robe, and tossed it onto the chair. Gulchichek lay down, and he immediately moved closer, pulled the blanket over them both, laid his head on her shoulder. Her fingers found his hair; she stroked his head. His breath was uneven, but his body’s warmth was real, alive.

— That’s better, — he whispered, holding her, nestling closer. — See? I’m already better with you here.

— Don’t lie, — she whispered, feeling his heart’s uneven beat beneath her palm.

— It’s true, — he closed his eyes. — It’s easier when you’re here.

She didn’t answer. She lay beside him, listening to the rhythm of his heart, afraid to breathe. He was almost dozing.

— I spoke with Rengin today… — his voice wavered, and he shifted as if to get comfortable. — I’m going to lead the project with — he didn’t finish.

Gulchichek immediately lifted her head.

— Reha, — she cut him off. — Not now. Rest, — she had worked so hard to calm him, to steady his heartbeat… she didn’t want a repeat of a heart episode right there in their bed.

— I just wanted to explain that— — he tried again.

— Everyone has a past, — she interrupted once more. — And mistakes too, — she added. — Just tell me — do I need to worry? — for the second time that evening, she asked him this question.

— No! Of course not, — he answered quickly — too quickly, almost overly sure.

Reha propped himself up and looked into her eyes. She frowned a little; a flicker of doubt crossed her face. The calmer she appeared, the more anxious he became.

— Reha, — she said softly, — sometimes the pauses speak louder than the words.

— It’s not what you think, — he looked away.

— I’m not thinking anything, — Gulchichek replied. — I just see that you’re having a hard time.

He wanted to argue, but she gently placed her hand on his shoulder.

— The pill’s already working, — she almost smiled. — Don’t try to prove anything right now, — she asked. — I won’t press, — it sounded like a promise.

Relieved, Reha nodded, as if he’d been granted a reprieve, and turned onto his side.

Gulchichek looked at his back, listened to his uneven breathing, and understood that his heart still ached from old wounds — and that the conversation wasn’t over. Quietly, she pulled the blanket up, tucked it around him, then lay down beside him, pressed herself to his back, wrapped her arm around him, and closed her eyes.

The tension between them didn’t vanish; it merely softened, like a wave receding and leaving a trace on the sand. He fell asleep holding her hand, pressing it to his chest, where his heart beat, and she lay awake for a long time, gazing into the darkness beyond the window…

***

Bahar was studying the mannequins while Evren was in the fitting room. The moment the salesgirl turned away, he pulled Bahar inside with a swift movement.

— Evren, — Bahar gasped, and he covered her mouth with his hand. — Are you out of your mind? — she whispered against his palm.

— I need confirmation, — Evren whispered.

— What? — Bahar didn’t understand.

— The T-shirt, — she realized only now that out of everything they’d chosen, he had started with the black one. — I think it’s a bit tight.

Bahar blinked and shook her head.

— You’re serious? — she flared, pushing the curtain slightly aside, trying to see if anyone had noticed them entering together.

— Absolutely, — Evren pulled her deeper in, drew the curtain closed, and turned her to face him. — If you don’t want me to look like “the night shift,” — he repeated her own words, — then you have to make sure it fits.

He was standing too close. Bahar’s hands dropped onto his shoulders. His breath brushed her cheek. The scent of his cologne mingled with her perfume.

— Evren, — she leaned back slightly, and his hands slid to her waist, holding her still so she could look at him.

— Try it on yourself? — he breathed out, his voice already uneven.

— What? — her palms pressed against his chest. — No!

— Why not? — he sounded genuinely puzzled.

— Because that’s crazy, Evren. It’s your size and it fits perfectly, — she said too quickly.

— Are you afraid? — Evren’s grip tightened just enough to keep her from stepping away.

— I’m not afraid, — she said, confused by his insistence. — I just don’t see how me trying it on helps you pick a size.

— Look, — he said softly. — Too tight, right?

— No, it’s fine, — Bahar objected.

— It’s tight, — Evren insisted stubbornly.

He could have pulled at the fabric, but he didn’t dare let go of her — afraid she’d slip out of the fitting room.

— It’s not tight! — she said, irritated, amused, and a little breathless all at once.

— Then prove it, — he challenged. — Show me.

— What?! — Bahar protested.

— Put it on, — he said, looking straight into her eyes, his body trembling slightly, betraying the madness of how badly he wanted to see her in it.

— You’ve lost your mind, — she said, but her voice had softened.

— Just a little, — he whispered, leaning closer, his hands sliding along her back. — I want to see how it looks on you.

His trembling reached her. Her breath quickened; her heart began to pound.

— Then turn around, — she whispered, not even knowing why she’d agreed.

— I won’t, — he shook his head, his gaze fixed on her lips. — I’ll help.

— Evren, — she pleaded.

He shook his head again, and turned with her so that now his back was to the curtain and hers to the mirror. Bahar sighed, feeling heat rush to her cheeks — his longing had become her own.

— Turn around, — she said quietly.

His eyebrows rose. His whole expression said, are you serious? He barely stopped himself from throwing up his hands. Evren took off the T-shirt and handed it to her. Bahar exhaled, slowly unbuttoned her blouse, passed it to him, and took the T-shirt. She glanced up at him — his eyes traced the line of her shoulders, lingered briefly on the pendant resting at her throat. Evren drew in a sharp breath.

For a heartbeat she froze, realizing how loud her own heartbeat sounded. She pulled the T-shirt over her head — it still carried his warmth. The fabric settled softly, shaping itself to her figure, familiar to his hands.

— There, — her voice came out low and husky. — Satisfied?

For a second, everything around them vanished — the walls, the mirrors, the hum of the mall. There was only her, standing before him in his black T-shirt, a bit too big for her. One shoulder slipped free, baring the curve of her collarbone. Her hair fell over her shoulders, framing her flushed face; her breath was shallow.

— Evren… — she began, but he had already stepped closer.

He was so near she could feel his breath against her lips.

— I knew it was perfect, — he said softly, — but I didn’t think you’d look this beautiful in it.

She wanted to reply, but his fingers brushed her hand, and a spark ran through both of them. She trembled — not from fear, but from how much she wanted him not to stop. Evren’s fingers slid along the fabric, over her shoulder, through her hair — slow, deliberate, reverent, as if he were creating a memory with every touch. Her hands rested on his chest for a moment.

— Evren… we shouldn’t, — she whispered.

— Then tell me you don’t want to, — he murmured, his breath touching her lips.

As he spoke, he was barely a breath away. Bahar closed her eyes, swayed — and he didn’t let her reconsider. His lips found hers, and the world narrowed to the small fitting room and the faint scent of cotton between them. The curtain swayed slightly with their movement. His hand slid along her cheek, down her neck, into her hair, and she answered his kiss with all the passion she had been holding back.

Her fingers traced the muscles of his back, feeling the warmth of his skin through the thin fabric, her heart racing against his. For a long moment neither of them moved, until finally they broke apart, breathing unevenly.

Outside, someone spoke — footsteps passed by — the world went on. Bahar lifted her eyes. Her lips were still warm from his kiss, her breath unsteady.

— Evren… — she whispered, almost touching his mouth. — I want to go home, — her fingertip brushed his lips, — now.

— Try on the rest? — he asked, smiling without moving.

She nodded but didn’t leave the fitting room. Bahar barely managed to stay composed while he tried on the rest of the clothes, and when they finally stepped out, she could hardly wait for him to pay, then for the clerk to pack everything neatly.

Evren took her arm, bags in his other hand, and they walked out of the store in a quick, silent rhythm. They exchanged glances, smiled — both impatient to get home. And this time, he didn’t argue. She’d gotten what she wanted — to be home again… in their room.

***

They were in the girls’ bedroom. An empty pizza box lay on the bed. Parla, leaning back against the pillow, held a slice in her hand. Umay was sitting on the floor with her legs tucked beneath her, resting one elbow on the bed. Yusuf stood by the window with a glass in his hand, staring outside.

— You’re waiting for them, aren’t you? — Parla took a bite of pizza. — They’ll come back and find us here, eating pizza in the bedroom, — she said with a hint of guilt. — Maybe we should’ve cooked something after all?

Umay glanced at her.

— You think they were just out for a walk? — she snorted. — Brother Evren was furious. They’ll probably eat somewhere and only then come home. — She paused, her expression turning thoughtful. — I just hope they do come back… and that he doesn’t take Mom away. — She sighed, her tone suddenly serious. — And maybe, if they do, they won’t have any questions for us. — Then, after a beat, she added, almost to herself: — Though, if you think about it… — she looked at Yusuf, — we have some questions.

— I can already guess which ones, — Yusuf muttered, freezing when a pair of headlights flashed in the yard. But no one came through the gate, and he exhaled.

He didn’t really understand why he was waiting for them. Maybe he’d grown used to them all in this short time — even to Evren. He still didn’t know what would happen next, but it somehow mattered to him that Bahar was somewhere nearby. Her presence made the house feel calmer, steadier.

— Then answer us, — Parla said quietly.

— Answer what? — Yusuf set the glass down on the windowsill. — You want to ask about my mother? — He looked at them.

The girls exchanged glances and nodded.

— Why did she tell you that your father was Professor Serhat Özer? — Umay asked. — And why are you now talking about Brother Evren?

— Because they argued, and my mother… — he hesitated, lowering his eyes. — Because maybe she didn’t know herself. — Yusuf let out a heavy breath, as if finally beginning to accept the situation. — Or she didn’t want to tell me. I don’t know.

— But she must’ve had a reason to choose Professor Serhat, — Parla said, sitting up straighter. — And Professor Serhat knew. — She nodded. — Yet he never tried to meet you. Same as Brother Evren.

— I understand now that both of them knew, — Yusuf said bitterly. — It’s one thing to think you have a biological father who simply chose not to be part of your life. But it’s another to find out that the man you believed was your father might not be — and that maybe the real one is someone else. Or maybe… no one at all. — His voice trembled. — I don’t understand. I just don’t.

He fell silent, and so did the girls. Yusuf turned back toward the window. His gaze moved over the yard, landing on Evren’s motorcycle — the one he himself had parked there earlier. He couldn’t quite grasp how a grown man could drive that thing around, even take Bahar on it. Cars made much more sense — Bahar sometimes rode with him, too — and a faint smile flickered across his face before disappearing.

— Who would you want to be your father? — Umay asked softly, wrapping her arms around her knees.

Yusuf looked at her, then quickly turned away.

— Probably no one anymore, — he said quietly.

— Nooo, — Parla drew out the word. — I know that feeling. I said the same thing when I found out about my father. But no — you do want to know who it is. You just don’t want to admit it yet. — She stood up, walked toward him. — I think your mother was trying to protect both of them… and you… from each other.

— Protect us? — Yusuf frowned. — Protect me from men who knew I existed and didn’t want to see me? And now that I’ve said who I am, suddenly they’re curious? — He gripped the windowsill; his legs felt weak. — Only now they care? Well, I don’t want anything from them.

— You say that, but you don’t mean it, — Parla replied stubbornly. — You need to know. — She crossed her arms. — And honestly? — now even she wanted to know who Yusuf’s real father was… though she found herself hoping it wouldn’t be Professor Serhat. — If you could choose, knowing both of them — who would you want it to be?

Yusuf blinked, confused, and sat down on the windowsill.

— Maybe the one, — he rubbed his forehead with his hand, — who wouldn’t try to prove he’s my father. Who’d just say, “I’m here,” and that would be enough. I’ve never expected anything from a father. Never.

Silence settled in the room for a moment. Umay closed the pizza box. The sound of leaves rustling outside filled the space.

— Listen, — Umay said suddenly, getting up. — Let’s make a bet. — A mischievous spark lit her eyes. — Brother Evren or Professor Serhat?

— Only you could turn someone else’s drama into a bet, — Parla laughed.

— What? — Umay shrugged, joining them. — Everyone already knows; the only one who doesn’t is Yusuf — he just needs to take a DNA test. — She sat beside him on the sill.

— Then I’m betting on Evren! — Parla held out her hand.

— Why Evren? — Umay bristled. — Why not Serhat?

— He already has a daughter, — Parla reminded her.

— So what? Having a daughter doesn’t mean he can’t have a son! — Umay argued. — Maybe your precious Professor Serhat really is Yusuf’s father!

Yusuf looked from one girl to the other as their playful argument escalated.

— Yusuf’s mother probably said it was Serhat because he was about to get married, — Parla said. — So that means the real father is Evren. — She smiled triumphantly at Umay.

— No, it’s the opposite! She told him because he was getting married — because he already had a family, — Umay shot back, ready to pounce.

— Why is he suddenly my professor Serhat? — Parla demanded, crossing her arms. — And look at Yusuf — he’s just like Evren: quiet on the outside, while a storm’s raging inside.

— Quiet? — Umay laughed. — He’s as straightforward as Serhat.

— And how would you know what Serhat’s like? — Parla challenged. — You’ve never even met him!

— Neither have you! — Umay retorted, tilting her chin defiantly.

— I have! — Parla folded her arms tighter, smiling smugly. — My mom introduced us.

Umay burst out laughing.

— And why would your mom introduce you to him, huh? — She narrowed her eyes. — What’s going on between your mom and Professor Serhat?

Yusuf stepped between them.

— Enough! — He raised his hands. He could tell they were crossing into something too personal, something even the adults weren’t ready to face. — Just stop! — he said again, without realizing he was already defending them both. — This argument is pointless!

— No, it’s not! — Umay held out her hand. — Serhat’s the father!

— Evren’s the father! — Parla grabbed her hand in challenge.

— You’ll lose! — Umay shot back. She really didn’t want Evren to be Yusuf’s father — especially now, when she didn’t even know where Evren and her mother would end up living.

— Stop it! — Yusuf snapped.

Parla dropped her hand; Umay stepped back.

— Don’t be mad, — Umay said softly. — We just… — she hesitated, — we just want to understand who he really is.

— Fine, then both of them are my fathers! — Yusuf’s voice rose. — I didn’t have even one, so now I’ll have two! Both professors of medicine, — he gave a bitter shrug. — I want to become a doctor, so why not use that to my advantage?

The girls turned to him at once, caught off guard.

— You’re arguing, making bets, as if it doesn’t matter what I feel, — Yusuf said sharply. — So that’s it — they’re both my fathers! Happy now? Why not? — He clenched his teeth. — I won’t take a DNA test just to feed your curiosity! — His rare stubbornness flashed as he turned and left the room.

Yusuf nearly ran down from the third floor, pausing for a moment outside Bahar’s bedroom… but she wasn’t there. And suddenly, he wanted nothing more than to be near her — she was the only one who could bring him peace, a mother’s calm. But she wasn’t there. None of them were.

He went to the railing and looked down.

A month and a half ago, he’d slept on that very couch downstairs, watching as Evren — that professor — had quietly descended those same stairs late at night. The man he’d once followed with silent admiration, dreaming of becoming a doctor like him.

And now, Evren might actually be his father.

Yusuf gripped the railing tighter. He had almost decided to take the test, but the girls’ argument had angered him. He didn’t want to become some kind of prize in their guessing game.

Then he saw them — Bahar and Evren — stepping out of the car. They were back.

Yusuf stepped into the shadow of the hallway and stood still in the dark…

***

They entered the dark living room quietly — as quietly as they could. The shopping bags rustled softly in his hands; they were laughing, whispering. Evren held her close by the shoulders, kissing her neck while Bahar locked the door behind them. She tossed the keys onto the table, and they clattered so loudly that both froze for a moment, glancing upstairs.

Then Bahar grabbed his hand, and together they almost ran up the stairs — as if afraid someone might see them, come out, interrupt them — and disappeared into the bedroom.

Evren dropped the bags on the floor, turned the lock on the door, and only then faced her.

— Evren — she started, but didn’t finish.

He had already pulled her into his arms, pressing her close. He kissed her —unrestrainedly — and she responded instantly, tugging at his shirt. His hands slid along her back, urging her backward with each step. Bahar clung to his shoulders, and by the time they reached the bed, her blouse had been tossed aside somewhere, his shirt slipping from her fingers.

They didn’t turn on the light. Only the faint rustle of fabric, uneven breathing — as if both had forgotten how to breathe.

Bahar leaned back, pressed her hand to his chest. She could feel the strong, erratic beat of his heart beneath her palm. He pushed her gently, and she fell onto the bed. Evren followed, brushing against the nightstand; something rolled off and hit the floor.

— Evren, quieter — Bahar half-laughed, half-gasped, but he only smiled and kissed her again, silencing her.

His lips found the pulse at her neck — the same spot he always returned to, as if making sure she was real, not a dream.

— I missed you so much, — he murmured against her skin. — You can’t even imagine.

— I can, — she whispered back, her arms circling his neck, pulling him closer.

He held her tighter in response.

Every movement was a confession; she didn’t hide, didn’t hold back, only reached for more — closer, warmer, alive. The bags remained by the door. The light stayed off. And at last, the night stopped being just a night — it became a long-awaited return home.

***

She had been waiting for so long that she’d already stopped hoping. After a few sighs, she finally lay down in bed. Wearing a face mask and a soft robe, Nevra nearly dropped her phone onto the pillow when it buzzed in her hand.

— Ismail… — her voice immediately softened.

— So, how did it go? — he asked at once.

— Not at all, — she sighed theatrically, stretching. — Bahar and Evren… didn’t even seem surprised.

— Not at all? — genuine disappointment sounded in his voice.

— Not at all. To be honest, — she sat up in bed, — I was prepared for something, but nothing happened.

— So they took it calmly? — Ismail said thoughtfully. — Isn’t that a good thing?

— I don’t know, — Nevra muttered and lay back down again. — I’m not even sure what I was afraid of. Maybe that they’d think… I was too… frivolous?

— If you were frivolous, — he said evenly, — I wouldn’t have called.

— You’re too sure of yourself, Ismail, — Nevra laughed nervously.

— One of us has to be, — he replied lightly.

— So what now? — she asked in a lower voice. — What happens next?

— Now everything will be fine, — he said in a businesslike tone. — As a man, I’m taking responsibility.

— What kind exactly? — she teased, though something inside her stirred — something alive, long forgotten.

Ismail was silent, and Nevra pressed the phone closer to her ear.

— I’ll come over for lunch tomorrow, — he finally said.

— What? — Nevra shot upright, almost dropping the phone. — For… lunch? Here?

— Yes, — he answered shortly, as if it were obvious.

— But… Ismail… everyone will be home, it’s Saturday, — she stammered, fanning herself with her hands.

— All the better, — he said calmly. — I’m not a boy hiding in corners.

— You don’t understand… it’s Bahar, it’s… — she exhaled, clutching the blanket in her fingers. — And Evren will be there.

— Nevra, — he interrupted, — I understand everything. And if we’ve decided, then we’ll go through with it like adults. Especially since they’ll both be there.

— You really are coming? — she asked, her voice trembling slightly as she released the blanket and pressed a hand to her chest. — Ismail… — Nevra pressed the phone to her cheek, staring into the darkness beyond the window.

— Mmm? — he murmured.

— What if it doesn’t go well? — she asked carefully.

— What could go wrong? — he chuckled. — Everyone’s an adult, they’ll accept it, — he said firmly.

She stayed silent for a moment, smiling faintly, just listening to his breathing on the other end of the line.

— Then… see you tomorrow, — she whispered.

— See you tomorrow, — he confirmed.

Ismail hung up first. Nevra kept holding the phone to her ear for a long time, as if still listening to his voice somewhere between her breathing and her heartbeat. She wasn’t afraid… only a pleasant, anxious warmth spread slowly through her chest.

***

His heart faltered from the feelings he had for her. Evren didn’t understand what was happening, but with every passing day, he felt drawn to Bahar more and more. He constantly needed to see her, to feel her presence, to watch her. Now, wearing a thin pajama shirt and lying in bed, he watched her as she sat before the mirror, slowly brushing her damp hair.

— Bahar, — he murmured sleepily, yawning, — you’re tired, — he muttered, closing his eyes halfway.

— We’re all tired today, — she replied with a sigh.

She wanted to add that it had been a good day, but kept silent, remembering the death of her patient, remembering the woman from the restaurant who had plunged a knife into herself to end her pregnancy. They hadn’t talked about it afterward. Evren had shut down the topic instantly, as if it didn’t concern them… and maybe it really didn’t. They had done their duty — helped as doctors. Both women had been pregnant. One — Ayşe — had risked her life for a child; the other — had tried to end hers.

— Where do you find the strength, after everything that happened today? — she heard his voice and met his gaze in the mirror.

Evren was nearly asleep, yet fighting it, still trying to wait for her in bed. He even pulled back the blanket, ready to cover her.

— We survived, Evren, — she shrugged lightly. — That means it was a good day after all.

— Bahar… — Evren rolled onto his back, resting his hand behind his head. For a moment, he was silent, as if gathering his thoughts.

— Evren? — she turned toward him.

— What if… you, — he hesitated, searching for words, — what if you found out you were pregnant again? — he trailed off, afraid to continue.

Bahar stopped brushing her hair and placed the comb on the vanity.

— Are you serious right now? — she flared up instantly. — Evren, do you realize how many people are in this house? — she got up and came closer to the bed. — How much I already have on my shoulders? And now there’s Yusuf too, — she reminded him.

— I know, — he looked at her. — But Yusuf shouldn’t affect our decisions. I just thought...

— Our? — Bahar interrupted him. — You “thought”? Pregnancy isn’t just a thought, Evren! It’s a huge responsibility! — she tried to stay calm, but couldn’t. — And not just for yourself!

— I know, — he sighed. — But what if… it happens, would you… not want it?

— Why wouldn’t I? — she frowned slightly.

— Because, — he turned to her, — if Yusuf turns out to be my son, you might decide that one chance is enough for me.

Bahar didn’t answer right away. She looked into his eyes, then sat on the edge of the bed and took his hand.

— Evren, I don’t think of children as “chances,” — she said evenly, though a storm rose inside her.

— Then let’s try, — he said, sitting up and pulling her gently toward him.

— Right now, Evren? — now she was truly angry. — You really think we need to rush, just because if Yusuf turns out to be your son, I might refuse later? — she pressed her hands against his chest.

— I just… I’m afraid, — he admitted softly, stroking her back, though this time his touch didn’t calm her. — I’m afraid this house will crush you. That with Yusuf, I’ll become one more burden, and you’ll change your mind.

— You’re not a burden, — she still held him back, not letting him embrace her, — but you’re not my salvation either. I want you to remember that, Evren. You’re rushing for no reason — especially now, when I have my research! It’s important! — she snapped. — I want to help this couple become parents.

— Let’s help ourselves become parents first! — he shot back, frustrated. — Why is someone else always more important than us?

— You really think a child will fix everything? It won’t make things easier, Evren, only harder, — she tried to stand, but he held her still.

— We’ll manage, — he said stubbornly. — Your research… are you sure it’s what you want to do? — he asked carefully.

Bahar frowned. She hadn’t wanted to bring this up tonight, but he had left her no choice.

— Why did you react like that, Evren? — she asked. — To Meryem Özkan?

— Bahar… — his fingers loosened immediately; he released her, as if the very name caused him pain.

— You know her, don’t you? — she watched him closely, not moving.

— Don’t, Bahar, — he said, pale, shifting slightly away from her.

— Don’t what? — she pressed.

— It’s… not something worth revisiting, — he muttered through clenched teeth.

Evren stared up at the ceiling, avoiding her gaze.

— So you’re against her because of her method? Or… — she stopped mid-sentence, watching him.

— Because of everything, — he said quickly, then added, — I just don’t want you going through that while… if you do get pregnant, and that couple can’t carry their child because of her reaction to her husband’s sperm. I just don’t want those things happening at the same time, Bahar!

— You know I’ll start and finish this study, — she said firmly. — I won’t back down! I’ll help them become parents! — she closed her eyes for a moment, steadying her voice. — And also, Evren, that’s not the whole truth, is it?

Evren turned toward her slowly, his eyes glinting in the dim light.

— No, not all of it, — he said quietly.

— Then just tell me, — she asked softly.

— Not now, — he exhaled. — I need time, — he squeezed her hand. — Sometimes I just wish things could be simpler, — he admitted.

— They won’t, — Bahar said.

She tried to stand, but again he stopped her.

— Lie down, — Evren said gently. — Let’s just try to sleep.

— And another thing, — she raised a hand, but he caught it.

— Lie down, — he pulled her closer. — It’s late. Do you really want to argue now?

— Evren? — she looked at him, confused.

— Bahar? — he raised his brows slightly.

— May I at least turn off the light, or is that forbidden too? — Bahar met his eyes.

Evren slowly released her fingers, and Bahar stood up. She circled the bed, turned off the light, and lay down beside him. Evren moved closer, wrapped his arms around her, and pulled the blanket over them both. He buried his face in her hair. She thought they wouldn’t be able to sleep after their argument, but within minutes, his breathing became even. She, however, couldn’t fall asleep.

First, she tried counting his breaths, then her own. Lifting his arm, she turned and wrapped her arms around him instead. Evren mumbled something incoherent, and she smiled… but sleep wouldn’t come. Bahar rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling. Shivering as if from a sudden chill, she pulled the blanket up to her chin… then grew hot and tossed it aside, leaving Evren covered. She lay there, arms crossed over her chest, staring upward. The silence of the house began to press on her. Carefully slipping out from under his arm, she stood up.

Bahar walked to the window and cracked it open, inhaling the fresh air deeply, but it didn’t help. She still wasn’t sleepy. She put on her robe and, under Evren’s quiet snoring, paced barefoot around the bedroom. She still marveled at how quickly he could fall asleep — a minute ago they’d been arguing, and now he was fast asleep, while she wandered restlessly.

She bumped into the table and noticed the folder with documents. Tucking it under her arm and holding it tight, Bahar picked up her laptop and headed for the door. Deciding it was better to work, she slipped on her slippers — and nearly tripped over the shopping bags they’d left earlier. Muttering under her breath, she nudged them toward the wall with her foot, opened the door, and quietly stepped out.

Listening to the stillness of the house, Bahar descended the stairs. The dim glow from the aquarium lit the couch. Setting the folder and laptop on the table, she switched on the coffee machine. Within minutes, the smell of coffee filled the kitchen. Bahar took a sip and shook her head, as if something was missing. She opened the fridge, pulled out a lemon, sliced it, and dropped a wedge into her cup. After another sip, she nodded in satisfaction — now it was just right. She settled on the couch, turned on the lamp, and opened her laptop and the folder.

— Meryem Özkan, — she whispered. — Who are you?

Taking a few more sips, Bahar began typing. At first, the lines came out dry and formal, but then they softened, alive — as if she were writing not to a colleague, but to another woman who could understand.

“...We need to talk. Without protocols. Without the hospital. Just doctor to doctor.” She reread the message three times. Then checked the clock — 1:15 a.m. A new day had already begun; technically, she hadn’t broken her promise to Evren. Still, Bahar lowered her head onto her arms, hesitating — to send it or not. She glanced at the aquarium. The goldfish made a slow circle, its movement carrying that same quiet restlessness, that same inability to stop. And Bahar pressed “send.”

***

After sending the email, Bahar gathered her hair into a loose bun, tucked up her legs, and got to work. The coffee had already cooled, and she flipped through papers, made notes, cross-checked data, analyzed the timelines highlighted in marker. She typed fast, then studied intently everything she had written. Treating a patient was one thing; first putting all the documents in order so she would be allowed to perform medical procedures was another.

— Bahar, — at the sound of Evren’s voice she nearly jumped on the little couch and almost dropped the lemon slice she had lifted to her lips.

He stopped in the doorway and simply looked at her. The aquarium light, the shimmer of the monitor — and she seemed to notice none of it. Seeing the lemon in her hand, he winced involuntarily and swallowed hard.

— Why aren’t you sleeping? — he was ready to pour himself a glass of water and down it in one go.

He watched her put the lemon slice into her mouth after all, chew, and swallow. Evren exhaled; it felt as if everything inside him cramped from the sourness… she was the one eating it, but he was the one feeling it.

— Me? — her robe was open, her cheeks flushed, her eyes shining. — And you? — she shot back instead of answering, fanning herself with a sheet of paper.

— You didn’t lie down at all, did you? — Evren snapped.

— I couldn’t sleep, — she brushed a strand of hair from her face. — I’m drafting the protocols, — she confessed. — If I get approval on Monday, then — she broke off when she caught his look.

— What? — he asked quietly.

He was barely awake yet, hair tousled, squinting at her.

— It’s just… I want — she didn’t finish.

Evren perked up at once, came closer, and after a quick survey of the table, exhaled in relief — no more lemons in sight.

— What do you want? — he asked in a low, husky voice.

Bahar swiftly stacked the papers into the folder, closed the laptop, and met his eyes.

— To cool down, — she said, still fanning herself.

— What? — he was baffled. — I can’t keep up with you, — Evren muttered, scratching his head.

Bahar had already jumped to her feet, grabbed his hand, and tugged him along.

— Come on, Evren, — they stepped outside through the kitchen door. — I’ve wanted to swim with you for ages. You asked for a weekend — it’s here, — she spoke so quickly he couldn’t even get a word in.

Evren barely kept up, slapping his bare feet against the tiles. The night air was cool, and goosebumps sprang up on his skin; she opened her robe wider, staring at the pool. The moon floated on the water, ripples of light sliding across it, making everything look unreal. He shivered, and she had already tossed off her robe, sat on the pool’s edge, and dipped her feet in.

— Bahar, don’t you dare, — he came to his senses. — It’s cold.

— I’m hot, Evren. I’m burning up! — and with that she dove in.

He didn’t even have time to step back before her splash hit him — and then, laughing, she scooped up water and flung it his way.

— Bahar, you’re crazy, — Evren shook his head and wiped his face.

— I know! — she splashed him again and dove, cutting through the water.

He hesitated a split second and then leapt after her. The water closed over them both. They surfaced almost together, their eyes met — and it all turned into play. Laughter, whispers, quiet splashes so as not to wake anyone.

Bahar pushed off and swam away; Evren caught up, grabbed her by the waist, and turned her toward him.

— Careful, professor, — she whispered, feeling his breath at her neck.

— Your cooling methods are unusual, — his lips brushed hers.

— Effective, — she said, looping her legs around his waist.

— Bahar! — he breathed into her mouth, holding her by the hips.

— So, professor, how’s the water temperature? — she tossed her wet hair back.

He stared at her as if spellbound. The thin pajama clung to every line, every curve of her body, that narrow waist. Moonlight played on the water and on her skin, turning everything to magic.

— Aren’t you afraid you’ll catch a cold? — she murmured into his neck, kissing him.

— Aren’t you afraid I’ll lose control, — he countered, his hands slipping beneath her pajama.

She laughed and pushed off again, dove, and swam underwater. The moment she left him, the cold struck him sharp — but he had already felt the warmth of her body. She wrapped her arms around his legs, rose, and surfaced beside him. His hands slid over her back; silk teased his fingers beneath the water.

— Bahar, — he exhaled.

— What? — she smiled into his eyes.

— I can’t look at you calmly, — Evren whispered.

— I knew you’d jump after me, — her lips were trembling, but not from the cold.

She hugged him; her palms swept along his back, and she almost lifted his T-shirt, but he suddenly turned with her, pressed her back to the edge, kissed her, and she answered at once.

— Quiet, — she leaned back, pressed a finger to his lips, breathless.

Her glance flicked to the dark windows of the sleeping house.

— Think anyone’s watching? — he was barely holding back.

— I’m afraid we’ll wake them, — she whispered, laughing.

He kissed her quickly, swallowing her laughter with his mouth.

— Catch me if you can, — she breathed against his lips and dove, swimming away. Evren laughed, shook his head, and dove after her. They swam like maniacs, stopped, kissed, held each other, and dove again.

— You know, — Bahar clung to his shoulders, — what the scariest part is?

— What? — Evren held her by the waist, drawing her close.

— I don’t want to get out, — she admitted.

He laughed, watching the moonlight glide over her face.

— Then let’s stay here all night, — he whispered.

Bahar pressed her cheek to his shoulder; her eyes shone, her breath hitched.

— I’m dying to… — she whispered.

He looked at her, laughing. She trembled with him from his laughter, and the water rippled away in waves.

— To what? — he asked.

— Eat, — she finished, and both of them burst out laughing.

Their laughter echoed in the courtyard. Evren climbed out first, offered her his hand, wrapped her in the robe, which immediately soaked through.

— You’re insane, — he said, pulling her close.

— But you love me like this, — she answered, searching his face.

She was drenched, hair plastered to her cheeks, and he couldn’t look away.

— Come on, — he said. — I’ll fix something.

— Warm me first, — Bahar whispered in his ear.

Evren laughed out loud now, no longer caring whom he might wake. They walked inside, arms around each other, leaving wet footprints across the tiles.

They entered the house still laughing. Water dripped from her hair; cold rivulets ran down the silk of her pajamas. Evren looked at her and shook his head.

— The water’s freezing, — he murmured, brushing a strand from her face. — And you’re glowing.

— Because I feel good, — she said, wrapping her arms around his neck and leaning into him. — You are going to feed me?

— Let’s go upstairs, — he tugged her toward the stairs.

— Evren, I’m hungry! — she protested, not budging.

— I’ll feed you, but first you change! Come on, — he held her hand firmly.

Pouting a little, she followed him, leaving damp footprints behind. In the bedroom, Evren turned on the light, took off all her wet things, brought a towel and dried her thoroughly, then tucked her into bed and pulled the blanket up.

— Lie still, — his lips touched her forehead. — I’ll bring you something to eat.

She nodded obediently, curled up, and stretched out a hand beneath the blanket.

— Don’t be long, — she asked.

— I’ll be quick, promise, — he said.

He changed swiftly and headed for the door, almost out.

— Evren, — Bahar called.

— What? — he turned on the threshold.

— Something delicious, please, — she asked.

Evren chuckled softly and shook his head.

— Something delicious, — he echoed, nodded, and stepped out.

He was almost down the stairs when he decided to go back — to ask whether she wanted something hot or if sandwiches were enough, whether he should make coffee. Evren opened the door and stopped short. With a sigh, he came in and closed it, walked to the bed.

Bahar was already fast asleep, lips slightly parted, breathing steady and deep. He smiled, switched off the light, slipped under the blanket, and drew close.

— That’s how it always is, — he whispered into her hair. — You stir up the sea and then drown in the pillow.

Without waking, she shifted and turned toward him, set her palm on his chest, as if just to feel he was there. Evren covered her hand with his and closed his eyes. Smiling, he still couldn’t quite believe Bahar had finally settled, finally fallen asleep beside him…

***

When he woke up, stretched, and opened his eyes, the bed beside him was already empty. Evren closed his eyes again and took a deep breath. This wasn’t how he had imagined their first morning off together. Bahar had already left, hurried downstairs to prepare breakfast for everyone again, while he slept through it all. Through the closed door, Evren could hear muffled laughter and the clatter of dishes. He even thought he caught Siren and Uraz arguing, and then came the barking of the neighbor’s dog from outside. That was enough to make him get out of bed. Glancing at the clock, Evren realized the morning was long gone—the hands were nearing twelve.

Evren was about to head to the bathroom but stopped and smiled. Bahar had already unpacked all the bags they had brought yesterday — not only unpacked them but even laid out his clothes. Dark blue trousers and a T-shirt to match. She had thought of him too. A pleasant warmth spread through his chest. Smiling, he washed up, took a shower, and went downstairs, following the smell of coffee. The noise and bustle around clashed entirely with his idea of a quiet, peaceful morning. Evren peeked into the kitchen.

— Don’t overheat the porridge, — Siren was washing something in the sink while giving instructions to Uraz.

— I know, I know, — Uraz replied, holding Mert in his arms, who was reaching toward Leyla, sitting in her highchair.

Without asking anyone, Evren scooped Leyla up into his arms, kissed both her cheeks, tossed her gently in the air, and caught her. Leyla burst into joyful laughter. Mert, still in Uraz’s arms, watched them, his face twisting before he started crying loudly — clearly offended that Evren’s attention wasn’t his.

Then Evren felt her hands on his waist, her body pressed against his back, her lips brushing his neck before she whispered in his ear:

— I’ve seen women jealous of you, but men too? — Bahar murmured. — Slept well? — she rubbed her cheek against his and released his waist. — My darling. — Bahar was already heading toward Uraz to take Mert, but Evren caught her hand and turned her toward him.

— Bahar, — he tried to look stern as he pulled her closer, still holding Leyla.

Bahar looked at him in surprise, but Evren was already leaning in to give her a quick kiss on the lips. Satisfied, he nodded and finally let go of her wrist. Bahar blinked, then smiled, waved her hand dismissively, and took Mert from her son’s arms. Uraz exhaled in relief. Umay was watching them tensely.

— Umay, get the greens, — Bahar said. — Parla, take the glasses.

— Mert, my sweet boy, — Siren kissed her son’s cheek and took him from Bahar. — Today Daddy’s going to feed you, — she handed him back to Uraz. — Right, darling? — she gave her husband a meaningful look.

Bahar raised her eyebrows but said nothing. Evren followed closely behind her, still carrying Leyla.

— Bahar, — Gulcicek entered the kitchen, — the table’s almost ready, — she announced. — Evren, good morning.

— Mrs. Gulcicek, — Evren turned toward her with Leyla in his arms.

— Bahar, — Reha came in from outside, wiping his hands with a towel, — the grill’s ready. Evren, — he nodded at him.

— Professor, — Evren stepped forward and shook his hand.

Seeing her husband, Gulcicek immediately went to the fridge and opened it. Evren looked around in confusion, not understanding how he could have slept through their arrival.

— Thank you, — Bahar smiled, looking carefully at Gulcicek and then at Reha. — I’ll prepare the meat, — she leaned slightly on Evren’s arm. — Evren will help, won’t you?

Evren looked at Bahar, then at the professor. He wasn’t sure what kind of help she meant, but nodded anyway. Everything around him seemed like chaos — yet only to him, because everyone else moved with ease, fitting perfectly into the rhythm of the house.

— Are you sure everything’s alright? — he leaned toward Bahar and whispered in her ear. — Looks like an evacuation to me.

She glanced around the room and nodded.

— Everything’s as usual, — she said, noticing Yusuf, who, upon seeing Evren, immediately turned back and decided not to come into the kitchen.

He handed an empty plate to Parla, took a chair from the living room, and went outside. Bahar sighed.

— Bahar, I think we’re short on chairs, — Rengin appeared in the kitchen. — Evren, — she greeted him.

Evren nodded awkwardly. He couldn’t seem to blend into the general flow — everyone had something to do, while he just stood there holding Leyla until Siren took her away and sent Uraz outside. She carried the children’s chairs out to the terrace, placed them near the pool, sat the kids down, handed her husband their spoons, and stepped aside.

Nevra kept her distance. She kept glancing between her phone and the gate, nervously wringing her hands, adjusting her blouse, then the scarf around her neck. Gulcicek tried several times to draw her into conversation, but Nevra didn’t seem to hear her.

The moment Cagla tried to get up from her chair, Bahar and Rengin instantly sat her back down, not letting her move too much.

— I want to help, — Cagla protested.

— Please understand, dear, — Bahar leaned toward her, — we need everything to settle properly.

— Hear us out, — Rengin echoed her, — these are the most important days.

— You mean… a miscarriage could happen? — she panicked.

— No! — Bahar and Rengin cried out at the same time, holding her by the shoulders.

— No, — Bahar repeated, kneeling down in front of Cagla. — Everything’s going to be fine, — she squeezed her hands. — You just need to take it easy.

— No extra strain, — Rengin agreed.

— You two are like a pair of doulas circling around me, — Cagla laughed, trying to hide her unease.

— A doula? — Gulcicek, passing by, stopped when she heard the word. — Who needs a doula? Cagla? — she looked at her thoughtfully.

— What? — Nevra perked up, heading toward them. — Who’s talking about doulas?

— No! — Gulcicek blocked her way. — Cagla already has a doula. Go find yourself another pregnant woman!

— And why should I? Usually, it’s doulas who go looking, not the other way around! — Nevra protested. — Cagla, sweetheart, — she pulled a chair closer and sat beside her. — How are you feeling? Do you want to talk?

— Should I bring you some water? Maybe move your chair into the shade? — Gulcicek fussed beside her. — Are you comfortable?

Rengin and Bahar slowly retreated, leaving Cagla in the capable hands of Nevra and Gulcicek, knowing full well those two wouldn’t let her get up again. Gulcicek handed Cagla a pillow and tucked it behind her back. Nevra started fanning her with a napkin like it was a fan.

— Sweetheart, you mustn’t get up! — Nevra waved the napkin dramatically. — I’m your doula now.

— No, I am! — Gulcicek objected, handing over another pillow. — Doulas are gentle beings, not impulsive ones like you!

— I’m perfectly calm! — Nevra protested. — Very attentive!

— You two, — groaned Cagla, — sound like an obstetrics board, — she tried to spot Rengin and Bahar with her eyes, but they had vanished as if into thin air.

— We’ll take care of you, — both women declared in unison.

— Fine, stay, both of you, — Cagla sighed in defeat, folding her hands on her chest like in prayer. — Just don’t argue. You’re my therapy now, — she glanced briefly at Evren, who only spread his hands helplessly and walked past.

Gulcicek and Nevra exchanged glances, then started talking over each other, showering Cagla with questions, while she turned her gaze toward the window.

Rengin, watching through that same window, walked up to Bahar, who was taking vegetables out of the fridge.

— It feels like we’re at work, — Rengin remarked, handing her a plate and shaking the greens.

— Like the ER at rush hour, — Bahar smiled, dropping the vegetables into the sink and turning on the water.

— Good thing it’s none of our concern, — Rengin said softly, glancing toward Cagla, Nevra, and Gulcicek outside.

— Don’t be too sure, — Bahar smirked, passing her the cucumbers and tomatoes. — In this family, everyone gets pulled in eventually.

— You’re joking, right? — Rengin asked.

Bahar froze for a moment, then tilted her head, as if realizing only now what she’d said.

— A joke, — she exhaled, frowning slightly, her eyes flicking toward Evren by the grill.

— Nice day, Professor, — Evren said, stepping closer to the barbecue. — Feels good to be useful, even without a scalpel.

— That’s true, — Reha nodded, setting the tongs aside. — In this family, there’s always a need for an extra pair of hands, — he smiled faintly, looking at Gulcicek, his gaze softening for an instant. — Especially male ones.

Evren followed his glance.

— Think we’ll fit in? — he asked, scanning the yard and everyone in it.

— As long as we don’t run at the first sign of noise, — Reha sighed. — And noise here seems to be the background soundtrack. — He turned the meat on the grill, letting the smoke rise. — Family, — he added, — isn’t a sterile operating room. It’s soaked in life.

— Yeah, — Evren agreed. — Though sometimes I do miss the sterility…, — he admitted.

— Afraid of catching something? — Reha squinted.

— More like… used to isolation, — Evren shrugged. — I’m glad you’re part of Bahar’s family now, Professor, — he added quietly, lowering his eyes. — Sometimes that support from the older generation means a lot.

He didn’t say “parents,” as if avoiding the word.

— And I’m glad you’re by her side, Evren, — Reha nodded. — Even if the wedding never happened…, — he studied Evren’s face and caught the shadow passing over it.

— Not everything’s measured by dates and rings, — Evren sighed. — Sometimes a single word is enough to erase everything.

— Or to start over, — Reha noted. — The main thing is to have something worth starting, — he paused, then added more softly, — though we men always pretend we’ve got everything under control.

— And do you? — Evren asked, curious. — What is under your control, and what isn’t?

Reha chuckled, glancing toward Gulcicek, who, waving her hands, hurried into the kitchen, nearly knocking Umay over as she came out of the house with napkins.

— Control? If only, — he sighed, turning back to the grill. — Is Bahar cooking something? — he asked casually. — I heard about a new study — that she’s forming a team. — Evren immediately turned to him. — Rengin called me, — Reha explained.

Evren tensed, suspicion flashing in his eyes.

— New? — he smirked. — More like something old, dug up again, — he said, unable to hide his irritation. — Bahar’s just reviewing data. Nothing concrete yet.

— It’s just that, — Reha lowered his voice, — some subjects are better left alone unless necessary.

— What are you implying, Professor? — Evren asked, watching him closely.

— That sometimes the past doesn’t want to be studied, — Reha replied, still not looking at him.

He turned the skewers as if the conversation didn’t matter. Evren dropped his gaze too, as if assessing how well the meat was cooked, though his fingers tightened slightly.

— I agree, — he nodded. — I also think we shouldn’t rely on old methods, especially now, with medicine evolving so fast.

Reha looked at him as though he wanted to add something more, but then seemed to think better of it.

— Well then, — he coughed lightly, — looks like we share the same diagnosis — chronic caution.

— Better caution than lies, — Evren said quietly, exhaling.

— Sometimes lies are a form of treatment too, Professor, — Reha’s voice grew serious.

— And what about silence? — Evren asked after a moment.

— To speak or not to speak, — Reha mused, shrugging. — The key is not to overdo it — neither with the meat nor with relationships.

— Professor, we’re already on the same team, — Evren said with a smile, nodding toward the house.

— Sometimes the operating room feels simpler, — Reha admitted. — Here, you never know where or when something might explode.

— You couldn’t be more right, — Evren smiled, and when he saw Bahar with Yusuf, his gaze softened; a tight warmth pulled at his chest.

Yusuf took a sip of water from his glass.

— Maybe you could help Reha with the grill? — Bahar asked as she came closer.

Yusuf looked toward the barbecue.

— I don’t want to get in their way, — he replied, watching Evren.

— You’re trying to avoid him, — she noted, following his gaze. — You know, — Bahar smiled gently, — he’s not your enemy.

— I’m not so sure about that, — Yusuf tensed, his eyes sharpening.

— But he is, — she said quietly, — sure about you.

— Sure about what? — Yusuf’s fingers clenched. — No one even knows who my father really is, — he turned to Bahar. — Not Professor Serhat, not Professor Evren. And what if it’s neither of them? — he voiced his deepest fear aloud.

— Yusuf, — Bahar stepped closer, resting her hand on his. — Don’t think of your mother that way, please.

— How else am I supposed to think? — he asked, his face full of confusion. — If even she didn’t know which one of them it was?

— We don’t know that. Do you want to keep torturing yourself? — Bahar’s tone stayed calm. — There’s only one way to find out — a DNA test.

— No, — Yusuf answered too quickly.

— Really? — Bahar studied him intently. — What’s the point of your stubbornness, Yusuf? You’re only delaying the inevitable, nothing more, — she released his hand. — Evren’s worried, you know. He blames himself, even if he doesn’t show it.

— Why do I need this now? — Yusuf asked sincerely, baffled.

— You’ve never had a father before, — Bahar continued gently, — but now you have a chance to have one.

— Why should I? — Yusuf lifted his chin defiantly.

— You really don’t want to know what it’s like to have a real father beside you? — she asked with a faint smile, then walked into the kitchen, leaving Yusuf standing under the shade of a tree, slightly unsettled.

Yusuf frowned and turned around.

Near the pool stood two highchairs where Mert and Leyla sat. Mert had smeared half of his porridge across the table. Leyla clutched her spoon tightly. Uraz wiped the sweat from his forehead.

— I’m a surgeon, — he muttered, — not a kindergarten teacher.

— And if we lived on our own? — Siren asked, handing him a napkin. — Who would feed them then?

— Let’s not, — Uraz replied quickly, taking the napkin. — We just couldn’t do it, — a note of panic crept into his voice. — Enough, Siren!

— Why not? — she didn’t make a move to help him.

— Because we wouldn’t manage without Mom, — Uraz admitted reluctantly.

— For now, yes, — she agreed. — Which means it’s time we learned, — she said softly, taking a spoon. — We have our own family now, remember?

— This is harder than any surgery, — Uraz muttered, taking another spoon.

Siren bit her lip to keep from laughing. She began helping him feed the children — after all, it wasn’t their fault their father couldn’t handle something as simple as breakfast.

Rengin and Parla passed by the young parents, deciding not to interfere.

— Parla, — Rengin spoke calmly. — Go back home, — she asked.

— And sit there alone? No way, — Parla shook her head. — Mom, please, I’d go crazy there. Everyone’s here. Something’s always happening here.

— And at home, there’s silence, — Rengin agreed. — Though sometimes, silence is good for you.

— Good for me? — Parla looked at her. — You’re here too! You came because silence was driving you mad!

— Why are you so grown-up? — Rengin stopped in her tracks.

— I just don’t want to be alone, — Parla said quietly.

Rengin reached out and touched her daughter’s cheek.

— You have your own home, — she reminded her.

— And this is my dad’s home, — Parla said.

— This is Bahar’s home, — Rengin corrected.

— But I want to be here! — she insisted. — And you? — Parla suddenly asked. — You’re here too, not in our quiet, “healthy” home!

Parla smirked and headed toward Umay.

— I am too… — Rengin admitted softly to herself. — I am too, — she whispered, just as she saw Reha walk into the kitchen.

He took off his glasses, set them on the table, and for a moment simply watched Gulcicek fussing around the coffee machine.

— I never thought I’d find myself again in a house filled with the smell of coffee and food, — he began quietly. — Thank you, Gulcicek.

— You should thank Bahar, — she said without turning around.

— No, — he objected gently. — Without you, none of this would exist, — he stepped closer, took the cup from her hands, and set it on the tray. — I know I hurt you, — he leaned a little closer, — but I want to be part of this family… if you’ll let me.

Gulcicek drew back slightly, but her lips trembled.

— You want to? — she looked him in the eyes.

— You’re the heart of this family for me, — he said softly, and before she could pull away, he brushed his lips against her cheek.

Gulcicek blushed, glancing around nervously.

— Reha, what if someone sees us? — her voice faltered; she gripped his hand.

— So what? — his eyes sparkled, delighted that she had finally softened, even a little. — You’re my wife, — he reminded her, wrapping her in a firm embrace, ready to kiss her again.

— Just remember that you’re my husband too! — she looked into his eyes.

Reha paused, listening for footsteps.

— I’ve realized one thing — in this family, you have to be very careful, — he chuckled and kissed her again. — So no one catches us, — he added, reluctantly letting her go.

He didn’t take his eyes off her as she hesitated, then, answering his silent call, stepped closer again.

Bahar brought him coffee. Evren closed his eyes and took a sip — he’d been dreaming of it since he woke up. When he opened them, he met her gaze. She hadn’t left; she was still standing beside him.

— Are you sure this isn’t martial law? — Evren asked, watching how everyone was talking and moving all at once — yet somehow never bumping into each other.

— It’s just family, — Bahar smiled. — You’ll get used to it.

— I’m afraid I’ll get lost in all this chaos, — Evren said, savoring the coffee.

— Hold on to me, — she took his hand, — and you won’t get lost.

— I accept the rules, — his eyes dropped to her lips, then a bit lower, to the pendant resting against her chest. He drew in a sharp breath. — I’m ready to hold on to you forever, — he murmured, leaning closer. — Want me to tell you what I’d like to hold right now? — he whispered.

— Evren, — Bahar’s eyes flashed; she couldn’t help leaning into him.

— I think the pool was only the beginning, — he whispered, trying to look serious, keeping a careful eye so no one came too close. — And I want a repeat, — he went on, — with no one around, and with you in— — he didn’t finish, because Bahar suddenly rose onto her toes, reaching for him.

— Professor, — she breathed, but didn’t kiss him; she sank back down. — You’re using prohibited methods.

— Want to discuss those protocols? — his eyes lit up.

Bahar laughed and glanced around.

— Just discuss? — she said with a hint of disappointment. — Next you’ll say you’ll approve them? — she challenged.

— I will, if everything meets my standards, — he moved closer.

Bahar tilted her head slightly, as if she really were about to discuss it.

— All right, Professor, — she continued softly. — Let’s start with a clinical case.

— I’m all ears, — he leaned in, eyes fixed on her lips.

— The patient, — her hand lifted; she almost touched his mouth, then thought better of it and set her hand on his shoulder, brushing away an invisible speck. — Prolonged emotional overstrain, chronic sleep deprivation, — she cleared her throat, pausing, — a sudden spike in heart rate upon visual contact with a colleague.

Evren snorted, hiding a smile.

— A colleague, you say? — he pretended to ponder. — Likely cause — improper dosage of communication.

— Possibly, — she narrowed her eyes a little. — But there’s another nuance, — she watched him closely. — The colleague is deliberately provoking tachycardia.

— Then that’s a protocol violation, — he even frowned a little, as if they were discussing something very serious. — For symptoms like that, the usual prescription is…, — he swallowed hard, — physical contact.

— Observation, — she corrected.

— Over time, — Evren almost agreed. — With mandatory pupil response checks.

— And blood pressure measurements, — she played along. — Strictly confidential, Professor.

— Naturally, — his voice dropped lower, deeper. — Off shift and with no witnesses.

— You’re hopeless, — Bahar laughed and took a step back.

— Just consistent, — Evren disagreed. — All according to protocol: diagnosis, course of therapy, and follow-up monitoring.

— And a final report? — she was on the verge of laughing out loud.

— Protocol, — he clarified, — we’ll draft it together, in silence and with no witnesses, — he put on a thoughtful look, — preferably in the evening, to avoid stress factors.

— So, environmental control, — Bahar confirmed. — Preventive measures, then?

— Relapse prevention, — Evren nodded, taking a sip of coffee.

— And if the case becomes chronic? — she asked.

— Then we’re left with long-term touch therapy, — he continued in the same calm tone that made her heart thud in her chest.

— Professor, you’re proposing an experiment without ethics board approval, — Bahar was barely restraining herself from hugging him.

— I think the results will justify the risk, — he leaned toward her. — I’d put everything in writing. In duplicate, — he specified. — One for you, one for the archive of my personal observations.

— And if the case does turn chronic? — her chest rose and fell unevenly; her fingers trembled slightly, she wanted so badly to touch him.

— Maybe it doesn’t need treatment, — Evren’s eyes never left her lips. — Maybe the patient and the colleague are comfortable with that diagnosis.

— And what diagnosis is that? — Umay walked up to them, making them both start and spring apart.

— Clinical, — Evren answered hoarsely, flipping the meat; he nearly choked on his coffee.

— Really? — Umay looked them over. — Then why are you both so… flushed?

— Because clinical cases can be contentious, — Bahar coughed, trying to hide her embarrassment, and glanced at Evren.

— Is that so? — Umay drawled. — I was just going to ask about one such case, — she folded her arms across her chest. — Is it true you’ve decided to move?

— Umay, — Bahar stepped toward her daughter, throwing a look at Evren.

— We’re only… considering options, for now, — he set his empty cup on the table.

— Everyone’s so… pleased, — Umay went on, frowning slightly. — Everything’s so smooth.

Evren and Bahar exchanged a look. Smooth? He was even a little taken aback, not sure what to say.

— Is that a bad thing? — Bahar recovered first.

— Yes, — Umay snapped. — We’ve been through this. When everything’s smooth — it never lasts. That’s how it always is in our family! I’m happy for you, but I’m scared it’ll hurt again!

— Umay… — Bahar began, but Umay didn’t let her finish.

— You’ll make all the decisions for him again, — she refused to listen to their explanations. — And then it’ll hurt again. For you, for him, for everyone. I think you’re just pretending everything’s fine!

— What do you mean — pretending? — Bahar frowned, stepping closer.

— Exactly that, — Umay’s voice shook. — You were smiling just like this before he left. And then you were a wreck, Mom. A total wreck, — Bahar tried to answer, but didn’t have time — Umay went on. — And now Evren says he’ll take you away and we’ll stay here alone? Without Dad and Mom? Alone? — her voice trembled.

— Umay, no one is taking anyone away, — Evren came closer.

— Really? — tears flashed in her eyes. — You said so yourself yesterday! — she reminded him. — And what about Yusuf? — she looked straight at Evren. — If he’s your son, you’ll just leave this house like that and abandon us? Run away? — a bitter smirk twisted her lips. — Only this time together? Will you once again walk away from your own son, the one you didn’t even know? Do you have any idea what he’s feeling? How miserable he is? And all you two think about is being alone together. Are we all just in your way? Is that it?

— Umay, — Bahar reached for her hand, but Umay flinched back.

— And then it’ll all end! — she nodded. — Everything with Cem was beautiful too, and then there was silence and emptiness. I don’t want to go through that again. I don’t!

— Umay, — Bahar moved quickly and wrapped her daughter in a hug. — I’m not going anywhere, my love. I’m not, — she whispered, holding her tight against her chest. — Nowhere.

— And what if he leaves? — Umay looked at Evren over Bahar’s shoulder.

— I’ll stay, — Bahar answered softly.

— Like last time, Mom — will you move into the hospital again? — she was on the verge of tears. — I don’t believe either of you! Yesterday you yelled at us, and today you’re smiling sweetly at everyone?!

— Umay, — Evren took a step toward them and stopped; he wanted to go on, but didn’t get the chance.

— Good afternoon, — Ismail entered the yard with a big basket, smiling. He didn’t even notice how the conversations suddenly died and everyone turned to him. — I hope I’m not late, — he continued in his usual manner, moving with the assurance of someone arriving at a board meeting. — I brought a little something for lunch.

He walked to the table and set down the basket, lifted the linen cloth. Olive oil in a clay bottle, a bay branch, flatbreads, and stuffed eggplants.

— From me, — he turned, looking for Nevra. — From us, — Ismail held out his hand, and she slipped her palm into his, a little flustered, giving a coy shrug.

— We… — she faltered.

— Together, — Ismail finished for her.

Bahar’s arms loosened, and Umay stepped aside. Gulcicek dropped the towel. Reha raised his eyebrows. Siren shook her head. Uraz blinked as if he hadn’t heard right. Parla and Rengin exchanged a look — but Parla had already lifted her hand, watching Umay; everything about her said, told you so. Only Evren and Bahar stayed still — and yet even they were surprised by his arrival.

— Just… to avoid any misunderstandings, — Nevra mumbled, hiding behind Ismail’s back.

He nodded awkwardly and, trying to shift the attention, looked at Evren.

— Right… well, — he smiled. — One more thing. I wanted to congratulate you in person, — he didn’t take his eyes off Evren. — On the appointment, Professor!

Bahar looked at Evren.

— What? — Rengin was the first to recover. — What appointment? — all the color drained from her face.

— I thought you knew… — Ismail hesitated a second — only a second — and then pressed on. — Professor Evren Yalkın is the new chief physician as of Monday! The order’s been signed — approved by me personally!

Silence fell over the yard so completely that even the leaves on the trees seemed to stop stirring. Bahar went pale. Rengin sank into a chair.

— Rengin, — Evren swallowed hard. — Bahar, I — he broke off, words failing him.

— Evren? — Bahar stared at him. — You didn’t even think it necessary to tell me?

— It’s only fair, — Nevra spoke up, — after what happened with Timur — she stopped short, falling silent.

Everyone turned toward her, and she ducked behind Ismail again.

— Nevra… — Ismail frowned.

— No, I didn’t… — she stumbled, turning pale. — I just wanted things to be right!

Bahar looked at Evren, shaking her head. And he couldn’t say a word. He just stood there, looking at her. Blood roared in his temples; his heart pounded so loudly it drowned out every other sound.

— There, — Umay broke the silence first. — That’s it, Mom! I told you. I told you!

Bahar swayed. Behind her, Mert or Leyla dropped a spoon; it hit the tile with a clang, the sound ricocheting off the walls of the house. Evren took a step, but Bahar raised her hand to stop him… it was too late for explanations. She pressed a hand to her chest, where her heart was beating unevenly, as if she too were trapped in a sealed space, and looked at Umay, Uraz, Siren, Parla, Nevra with Ismail, her mother, Reha, and Rengin. They all stood before her; behind her was Evren… and her house went still… as if bracing for an oncoming storm…