– What? – she turned around, looking at him over her glasses.

– Where are you rushing off to? Why didn’t you wake me? – he rubbed his eyes, barely awake.

He was yawning, standing in the doorway of her house. Only this time, he was inside, and she was already outside.

– Breakfast’s on the table, – she pointed past him, toward the kitchen.

– Wait for me. Give me five minutes and we’ll go together, – Evren had no intention of letting her leave alone.

She looked at him over the rim of her glasses.

– You’ve got time. I don’t, – she replied calmly. – And you clearly need a shower and clean clothes, – Bahar added, forcing herself not to feel sorry for him, ignoring how disheveled he looked. – Sorry, I’m in a hurry, – she turned her back to him again.

– I wanted to talk about your patient, – Evren ran a hand through his hair.

– Here’s what we’re going to do, – she was clearly irritated. – Breakfast. Shower. I’ll see you at the hospital. What’s got you so worked up? You think I’m running away from you? I’m just going to the hospital. – She stepped toward him. – Or are you scared to go home alone? Because Naz is there, and you’ll have to explain things?

Evren stepped toward her too, crossing the threshold:

– I don’t live with her! – he whispered, his eyes locked on her lips. – I never did. Maybe it’s just easier for you to believe that I do? – he inhaled sharply. – Or maybe you’re afraid… to go with me, to be alone with me at my place?

Bahar smirked, struggling not to give in, forcing her arms not to reach out for him.

– Evren, you don’t have to prove anything to me. Haven’t you figured that out yet? – she tried to take a step back, but he didn’t let her go.

– What if I want to? – he licked his lips, stepping even closer, eyes still on her mouth. – What if I don’t want you out of my sight?

She swallowed hard and pressed her hands against his chest.

– You’ll get your chance, – she said, leaning in slightly. – See you at the hospital, – she pushed him away gently and slipped past him.

Evren swore under his breath as she walked away, smiling. For the first time in six months, there was lightness in her step…

…but the lightness evaporated the moment she stepped through the hospital doors and plunged back into her patients’ cases. Doruk rushed into her office with a stack of files, but the first thing she asked for were Esra’s latest results… and they didn’t bring any relief.

– He promised to stay with me, – she sobbed, lying on her side with her back to Bahar, staring out the window. – And now he’s on the way, – she curled up tighter, as if trying to pull her knees to her chest. – What if he doesn’t make it in time?

Esra had come to her in Istanbul, running away from her father — and now it was her father she missed the most, the support she had denied herself.

– We can’t wait any longer. This is the best window of opportunity, – Bahar was ready to sit down on the edge of the bed, to place a hand on her shoulder, as a mother would, as a human being — not a doctor. But she held back. – You made the decision.

Esra turned and looked at her.

– You say one fetus is developing normally. And the second… – she faltered, her eyes brimming with tears, – I don’t even know what to call it.

– My girl, – Bahar sat down after all, her hand resting gently on Esra’s shoulder. – It’s not your fault. Or his. The second fetus wasn’t viable from the start.

Esra covered her mouth, sobbing.

– I still feel like a murderer, – she whispered. – Like I’m choosing one… and just discarding the other.

Bahar sighed.

– You’re not choosing, Esra. You’re preserving, – she looked at her with all seriousness. – The second fetus has multiple developmental anomalies. It’s incompatible with life. The other has a chance — and so do you. We have to reduce the strain on your heart, Esra. It’s our only way forward.

– Twin-to-twin transfusion syndrome… mirror syndrome, – she nodded, trying not to break down again. – I’ve heard it all. But no matter what you call it… I’m terrified. And he’s not here.

Bahar exhaled and opened her arms, forgetting how moments ago she’d resolved not to cross this line. Esra lifted herself from the bed and leaned into her. Bahar knew it wasn’t advisable to get this close to a patient. But this girl needed something more — something close to maternal affection, something she’d likely never had.

– It’s rare. But not hopeless. We’ve prepared everything. You just have to believe. The rest… that’s on us, – she took off her gloves and gently smoothed Esra’s hair.

– You’re nothing like my father, – Esra whispered, clutching her hand. – You’re warmer.

Bahar slowly released her hand and stood. She shoved her hands into her coat pockets.

– I won’t back down, Esra, – she said, then turned and left the room.

She headed straight to the wing where Cagla had remained all this time, never leaving the hospital. Bahar turned right — and stopped. Evren was embracing Cagla.

– You were unbearable, you know that, – she heard Cagla’s voice.

Bahar moved quietly toward them, trying not to disturb them. It had been so long since she’d seen them together. She didn’t want to interrupt, but she also couldn’t keep away — as if the sight of Evren and Cagla together drew her in, tugging at some old memory when the three of them had been close.

– Don’t change, Cagla, – he said. – No matter what. No matter how hard it gets.

– If you had stayed back then… things might’ve been different, – she clung to him. – But I’m glad you’re here now.

– I didn’t know coming back would be this hard, – he admitted, eyes closed, as if for the first time since returning from America, he could finally let go.

– And I didn’t know, – she pulled back slightly, keeping her hands on his shoulders, – that you could carry pain so quietly. But now I see it. The question is — why?

He opened his eyes and looked into hers.

– I hold on, – he whispered. – Not because I’m strong… – his eyes were red – but because I don’t want to destroy anything else around me.

– Evren, – Cagla embraced him again, closing her eyes. – You have no idea how much I missed you. The real you.

– I don’t think I’ve really come back yet, – he admitted. – I can’t seem to.

They were still holding each other in the corridor, just outside the room of the unknown survivor. Bahar had nearly reached them. They both sensed her presence and turned at the same time.

– There she is, – Cagla patted Evren on the shoulder with a sad smile. – Your most complicated diagnosis yet, huh, Evren?

Evren stepped aside, allowing Bahar to come stand with them. He was clean-shaven, in a beige linen shirt and darker trousers. A lab coat over it all. He adjusted the collar as if presenting himself for inspection — had he followed all her instructions? Only then did he speak:

– It’s not a diagnosis, Cagla, – he said, eyes on Bahar. – It’s a condition. Chronic. Untreatable. It just needs acceptance.

– Even with stages, Evren? – for a moment, Cagla sparkled like her old self.

– Yes. I’d really love a remission, – he nodded, struggling not to reach for Bahar’s hand — she was standing that close.

– Diagnoses can be treated, – Bahar interjected.

– Then what’s remission, in your view? – Cagla pressed.

– It’s when she’s near, – Evren said softly. – That rare moment when I know who I am, who I want to be. When I can breathe. When my heart works right.

– Speaking of hearts, – Bahar took a deep breath and turned to Cagla. – Darling, you need rest.

– I’m fine, my little bird, – Cagla replied, embracing her.

– Siren will bring you your things. But Cagla, – Bahar leaned back to look in her eyes, – you have to accept it.

She was gentle, unwavering.

– I can’t leave. Not until he wakes up, – Cagla shook her head. – I just can’t.

– He will wake up. He’ll be fine. Professor Evren will monitor him closely, – Bahar glanced at Evren.

She couldn’t not look. He was impossible to ignore — his presence, his cologne, still lingering from his hug with Cagla, now clinging to Bahar too.

– I’m ready, – he said seriously. – For the heart, and the patient.

It was as if to remind them he was still there. He’d stayed quiet until he was acknowledged.

– Evren, this isn’t the time for jokes, – Bahar snapped. Cagla straightened, stepping aside. – Esra’s heart may not survive this! And that patient might not wake up! And then there’s your patient — and that’s another heart. And a liver! – She took a breath to calm herself. – Why is it always the heart?! And don’t look at me like that! – she was still fuming. – Do you think I should be happy you stayed?

– I’m just here, Bahar, – he almost touched her hand, but she shoved Esra’s file into it. – I’ll be here.

– If you’re so fascinated by hearts, study a real one, – she said, then turned to Cagla. – Darling, – her voice softened, though her hands trembled — Cagla noticed but said nothing. – Let’s go to my office.

Evren watched them leave. Bahar held Cagla by the arm. His smile softened. His gaze steadied.

She was angry.

Which meant… she wasn’t hiding anymore. She wasn’t pretending to be indifferent.

And for now — that was enough to keep trying… even from a distance…

…he was carefully calculating the distance from Bahar’s house to the hospital, trying to figure out how long it would take him to get there in the mornings in his beat-up old car. Yusuf had settled in the kitchen, poured himself a big mug of coffee, and spread out the notes he’d managed to scribble down yesterday — fragments he’d caught while attentively listening to the upcoming surgery being discussed. He tried not to dwell on the fact that no one had remembered him this morning, that it felt like he’d been forgotten, even though they’d promised him a practice rotation before school started.

Well, not everyone. Bahar had thought of him — she’d set a place for him at the table. But she herself was already gone. When he came downstairs, Evren was alone, finishing his coffee and the last of breakfast. He gave Yusuf a grim look, nodded, rinsed his mug, and left — without saying a word. Yusuf didn’t understand this man. He barely spoke to anyone, but when it came to medicine — he had so much to say. And every word carried weight. He’d noticed even Bahar took his arguments seriously. But Evren also listened to her, especially when she pushed back against his decisions. Watching them both was oddly fascinating.

Yusuf smiled, remembering their argument about Ali’s surgery. And then there was Jennifer — Bahar had clearly reacted strongly to her.

He placed his mug on the table and pulled over a blank A4 sheet. Within minutes, the faint outlines of a heart began to take shape. His pencil barely touched the paper, sketching from memory the heart model they’d used for Ali. Odd, he thought, that Bahar left Evren downstairs. Even stranger was her reaction last night when he tried to steer Evren toward her bedroom and she diverted him to the sofa instead. Something was definitely going on between them — but what?

– You’re drawing? – Uma peeked into the kitchen.

– Yeah, – Yusuf smiled. – It’s the quietest spot.

– Mom loves the kitchen too, especially this corner, – Uma opened the fridge and pulled out a pitcher of cold water. – Want some?

– No, thanks. I’ve got coffee, – he shifted over a little to make room, and Uma sat beside him. – Are you okay?

Uma glanced at him without turning her head, then focused on his sketch again.

– I’m fine, – she traced a fingertip along the heart’s outline. – Mom will sort everything out, don’t worry.

– It’s important to all of you that I stay, – Yusuf rested his elbows on the table, pencil in hand. – But all I can really do right now is fix things. I did manage to fix the dishwasher, by the way, – he added. – One of the seals had come loose. I replaced it, cleaned it out — it’s good as new.

Uma nodded.

– Mom still likes washing dishes by hand sometimes. She says it calms her down, – she lifted his drawing. – But that’s great. She’ll appreciate it. You’re really good — your sketch is very clear. Believe me, you’ll be going with everyone to the hospital in no time. Just give Mom a bit of time.

– He still thinks he can just text me, I don’t get it, – Parla burst into the kitchen and froze when she saw Yusuf and Uma sitting together.

Uma set the sketch down and leaned back against the couch. She met her sister’s gaze — knowing exactly who she meant. This time Parla didn’t keep quiet. She didn’t hide the fact that Cem had written to her.

– He didn’t come to our father’s funeral. And now he’s texting like nothing happened, – she sighed and dropped into the seat next to Yusuf. – Making me feel guilty.

– What’s he saying? – Uma asked at first, then reconsidered. – Actually, you know what? It doesn’t matter what he says. Not at all, – she crossed her arms and put one leg over the other.

Yusuf looked at Uma, then at Parla. He was stuck between them — literally. There was no way to get up and leave, so he just sat there and listened.

– He says he’s all alone, – Parla placed her phone on the table, ignoring the buzzing notifications. – Is it true that he quit?

– He quit? – Uma repeated in surprise. – And whose fault is that?

– He writes like… I don’t even want to respond, – Parla admitted.

Uma leaned forward to look at her sister.

– Did he even tell you why? – Now she could feel her own anger rising. – After what he did… – she stopped herself and leaned back again.

– What exactly did he do? – Parla leaned forward now, trying to catch her sister’s eye.

– Isn’t it enough that he didn’t show up to our father’s funeral? – Uma leaned forward again.

– Maybe you two could just sit next to each other? – Yusuf interjected, but they didn’t even hear him.

– He might be mad at me, fine. But you were his friend, – Uma reminded her. – He didn’t come to either of us, Parla. Is that friendship? Making you feel guilty?

– Listen, – Yusuf slammed his hand on the table. – You don’t owe him any explanations, – he looked first at Uma, then at Parla. – And you especially don’t. You’re family. That matters. Being there in the hardest moments—that’s what counts. I’d better, – he stood, prompting Uma to let him out – go to the office, – he gathered his papers, took his coffee mug, and left the kitchen.

Uma and Parla watched him go. Then Uma took a sip of water.

– You’re not going to tell me what else Cem might’ve done? – Parla reached for her phone but didn’t touch it.

Uma shrugged.

– I’m surprised you’re not blaming me. I’m the one who spoke up, remember?

Parla suddenly slid closer and turned to face her.

– Everyone knows you didn’t mean any harm to Evren, – she whispered.

– Cem doesn’t see it that way, – Uma reminded her.

– Maybe he just needed a reason, – Parla murmured.

Uma sighed.

– That’s probably closer to the truth, – she admitted. – I wish it weren’t.

Parla sighed too and hugged her sister. They said nothing more. Only the buzz of Parla’s phone broke the silence, another message lighting up the screen...

…he needed to tell something, to share. He couldn’t keep it all inside any longer.

— It all happened so fast! — Doruk burst into the doctors’ lounge. — Yesterday — America, today there’s a whole department across the hall. And she’s already discussing patients with him! — He flung Esra’s case file onto the table.

— This is about a patient's life, Doruk, — Siren replied, taking the file and opening it. — Esra is a heart transplant candidate.

— It’s not about the patients! — Doruk protested. — I thought it was over for me, that I had a chance… but she’s completely different with him!

— What do you mean, Doruk? — Uraz stood from his chair. — You’re talking about my mother.

— Her voice changes when she talks to him, — Doruk continued as if he hadn’t heard Uraz. — With me, it’s like she gives instructions. With him, it’s something else entirely. Even now, discussing the patient, they speak their own language — “I’ll be there,” “Why does he need to be in the surgery? He’s not part of the team!”

Siren and Uraz exchanged glances. Yesterday evening, they’d seen something very different.

— Doruk, — Evren poked his head in the door. — I need the most recent heart tests for Esra, all data.

Doruk straightened, as if trying to grow taller:

— Professor, you’ve settled in very quickly… — He bristled. — This is Bahar’s patient.

— And mine in the future, — Evren responded calmly.

— So now this is your territory? — Doruk’s breath grew shallow. — I have a department too, Bahar has her own. We’re not assistants anymore, professor.

— Everyone has their own patients, Doruk, — Evren replied smoothly. — And hearts aren’t the only organs. — He gave a small smile. — Doruk, this is about the patient. It’s important for Bahar too. Get me all the data and the full progression, not just the latest results. — He turned and walked out.

— Did you see that? He’s already ordering everyone around! — Doruk hissed. — “Important for the patient, important to Bahar,” as if I don’t know anything!

Siren shrugged.

— I’d join the professor’s team. This case is fascinating—and clearly not the only one now.

— Me too, — Uraz chimed in. — A double transplant… I’m still replaying the operation in my head.

Doruk crossed his arms firmly:

— I’m on Bahar’s team. We have an operation today, and I’m not missing it!

— Good luck, — Uraz patted Doruk on the shoulder. — But for now, bring the data to the professor. He can’t waste time chasing you around.

________________________________________

…she couldn’t back down anymore. She had to do this — remove one fetus to give the other a chance. To give Esra the opportunity to become a mother. She had spent days preparing herself psychologically and emotionally.

— The readings are unstable, — Bahar and Rengin hovered over Esra’s labs. — Her heart can’t handle another blood pressure spike. Blood pressure variability and her heart rate are unstable; her shortness of breath is worsening.

— You ruled out TTTS, but without reducing the second fetus, maternal right ventricular overload is inevitable, — Rengin added.

— I need a cardiologist, — Bahar looked at Rengin.

— Serhat is on his way, — Rengin informed.

— I didn’t mean Serhat — Bahar stood. — He can’t be in the OR; I don’t have room for error.

— I didn’t say he would be. He asked not to start without him, — Rengin mused. She wasn’t explaining; just stating facts.

— The ASA pre-op risk is at least Class III. I asked for an anesthesiologist experienced with CHF, — Bahar continued.

— She can’t tolerate ventilation if her heart fails. Precision strategy only, — Rengin asserted. — Professor Reha?

— He’s already being prepared. Doruk was supposed to notify him. The OR is ready. — Bahar paused as if debating revealing more, then went on. — Evren is reviewing Esra’s case to arrange transplant waitlisting.

Rengin frowned. Serhat opposed transplantation and they hadn’t fully discussed it.

— Look, — Bahar stated, standing by the door. — A new transplant unit is a major opportunity for the hospital.

— Bahar, — Rengin urged her gently to turn. — Evren had his own department and mandate in America, but he chose our hospital. He opted to start from scratch — team, base, patients.

Bahar didn’t react emotionally but Rengin continued:

— Alia is his reputation, Bahar.

— He knows what he’s doing, — Bahar looked through Rengin, unblinking.

— Are you sure? — Rengin’s gaze pinned her. — Are you truly sure?

— Evren wouldn’t risk a patient’s life. His risk is his own, not the patient’s, — Bahar nodded.

— He’s risking his reputation now? — Rengin looked for confirmation. — You sure it wasn’t a mistake to trust him?

— He intends to save Alia, — Bahar exhaled. — And yes, he’s risking everything.

Rengin turned pale. Bahar added:

— Alia has no other options. Pera and Evren are her only hope. — She reached for the door handle. — Donor organs are already en route.

— She’s not the only one, — Rengin said. — He postponed another patient—Julian — for Alia.

Bahar’s eyebrows rose — another American patient of whom she’d received only selective details before.

— Alia is an emergency, Rengin. — Bahar paused, then finished firmly: — Evren is building the team.

— Aren’t you part of his team? — Rengin pressed.

Bahar inhaled deeply:

— Yes. I’m part of his team… and he’s part of mine. — She hesitated—then added: — Excuse me, my patient awaits.

— Let there be life, — Rengin offered. — Even if it’s only a chance. You’re ready, Bahar.

Bahar tied her hair into a bun, grabbed Esra’s case file, and exited Rengin’s office. Walking the corridor, everything slipped away. She rode the escalator down.

Surgical gown and cap. She scrubbed in thoroughly, watching as preparatory staff brought Esra into the OR.

— I’m with you, Bahar, — Siren said as she scrubbed up. — We’ve got this.

— Bahar? — Doruk stood at her elbow.

— Ready, — Reha entered the pre-op zone.

Bahar nodded and entered the OR, sterile gown on, reading the monitors.

— Pressure unstable. Dopamine minimal. Circulation supported, — she assessed. — Don’t overload! — calm conviction in her voice.

Siren pulled on latex gloves. Bahar approached the surgical table. Reha stood across, Doruk to her side, Siren measured vitals.

— Take a deep breath, — Bahar gave a steady instruction. — We know what we’re doing.

— The heart is unstable, — Reha spoke tiredly but with authority. — Pulse under control.

— Patient under anesthesia, — the anesthesiologist confirmed. — Lines and monitoring in place.

— Incision — scalpel. Lower the pressure.

— Pressure down. HR 92… stable so far.

— Systolic above 160 now.

— Nitroprusside — slow! — Reha winced.

A shrill alarm. Everyone froze—except Bahar, focused on the task.

— Asystole! — Siren called.

— Professor Reha, — Bahar kept her eyes down. — I’ve nearly completed the reversal.

— Professor, — Siren shouted.

At that exact moment, Bahar lifted her gaze. The alarm blared. Reha’s face drained of color. He stepped back and collapsed.

— Doruk! — Bahar lowered her eyes.

— Pulse is present, but barely — it’s feeble, — came the report.

For a fleeting moment, everything threatened to collapse. She inhaled deeply, lifted her hands to proceed. Esra’s heart barely beat. Reha lay unconscious. She needed to continue — but where to look for help?

— Bahar, I’m here, — Evren burst into the OR at the code alarm.

He seemed to have been waiting for this. Their eyes locked. She hadn’t asked — but he understood her wordless plea. Bahar nodded swiftly — like an order. She trusted him, having already shared Esra’s case details. She hadn’t asked him to come, but he was there.

— Asystole, — Siren confirmed. They were losing her. — Defibrillator?

— No, — Evren’s reply cut in. He was already scrubbed in, gloves on. — The abdomen is open—electrode contact is unsafe. Direct compression is the only option.

— Evren, don’t let go! — Bahar resumed the surgery, voice unwavering.

— Evren Yalkin, take your hands off my daughter’s heart! — Serhat stormed in, mask on, fury in his eyes. — I saw you destroy one heart. Don’t touch hers!

The OR held its breath. Only the beep of the machine marked time…