Chapter 3: Whispers Beneath the Surface
Days passed in a blur of corsets, curtsies, and carefully measured words. I played the part of Alina well—or so they thought. I learned to speak when spoken to, to walk with grace, and to smile without revealing the storm behind my eyes. But every moment felt like a performance. I was Elif, a 21st-century woman, trapped in the silk-and-iron cage of 1915.
One afternoon, I found myself wandering through the garden of the estate. The roses were in full bloom, their scent heavy in the air. As I ran my fingers along the petals, a voice interrupted my thoughts.
"Miss Alina," a boy about twelve said, bowing slightly. "Your father requests your presence in the study."
My heart skipped. What did he want from me?
The study was dimly lit, lined with maps and books in Greek and French. The man I now called "Baba" sat behind a heavy oak desk, his expression unreadable.
"Alina," he said, without looking up. "The political situation grows tense. You are no longer a child. You must be careful with whom you speak. Even your words could become dangerous."
I nodded silently. He was warning me—but of what? Of betrayal? Or was he afraid of mine?
That night, I couldn't sleep. The candlelight flickered across the ceiling as I lay in bed, staring at the ornate carvings above. I thought of home—my real home. What was happening to my body in 2025? Was I in a coma? Had I died? Or was this... my new reality?
Just before dawn, I heard something. A faint rustling beneath the floorboards. I slipped out of bed and knelt, pressing my ear to the wooden floor. Whispers.
I followed the sound to the far end of the hallway, behind an old tapestry. A hidden staircase revealed itself, narrow and steep. My pulse quickened as I descended, heart pounding in my throat.
Below, in a candlelit cellar, two young men spoke in hushed Turkish.
Turkish.
My breath caught in my lungs.
I pressed myself into the shadows and listened.
"They'll never expect it," one said. "The plans will reach the resistance tomorrow."
"They trust the girl," the other replied. "She's just a child in their eyes."
I realized with a jolt—they were talking about Alina. About me.
But Alina wasn't who they thought she was.
And Elif… Elif was starting to understand her purpose.
This was no accident. I hadn't ended up here by mistake.
Fate had placed me in the heart of history. In the skin of the enemy's daughter.
But maybe—just maybe—I was here to change something.
And that night, beneath the whispers and shadows, a decision took root in my soul.
If I was meant to live this life, then I wouldn't live it silently.
I would act.
And I would fight.