Last night, I stayed up late working on the translation and submitted a request for it to be uploaded to the site. That's why I went to bed at three in the morning—my under-eyes were puffy. My fingers were sore from dancing across the keyboard, my mind exhausted from endless thoughts. And even as I worked, I couldn't stop thinking about the messages echoing in my head. A deep sense of longing swelled in my heart, begging everything to go back to how it used to be—begging to see him again.
Yes... I was wishing to see him again. I missed him.
Asya placed her cereal bowl on the table and glanced at my blank face, my sleepless eyes. She frowned and asked, "I can tell just by looking at you. It's him again, isn't it?" Her tone grew softer. "He's hurting you again, isn't he?"
She pursed her lips and gave me a timid smile, but I could see the tension in her jaw. She was angry—but not at me. She wanted to protect me. She always did.
She thought of me more than I ever did myself. I was the only one who didn't know how to take care of me.
"Talk to me," she said gently. "You're not guilty. I know, even if you don't say a word."
My eyes began to fill with tears. She said nothing more, just quietly placed her hand on my head. "It's okay. You've done nothing wrong…"
My head hung low, like a child being judged for crimes she didn't even understand.
"I left him," I whispered, as if confessing to something terrible. "I told him it was over… completely over."
Her hand softly stroked my hair.
"That was the right thing, sweetheart," she said, almost in a whisper. She was the only one who ever feared hurting me. "You didn't do anything wrong."
I sniffled, voice barely audible. "But what if I'm overreacting? Maybe people who love each other go through hard times too. Maybe they also go through things alone. Maybe they fight just as much. Maybe they feel worthless too, Asya. Maybe... maybe this is just his way of showing love."
Even I didn't believe my own words. Still, I felt the need to say them out loud.
Asya let out a slow breath and shook her head with quiet pain.
"People who love don't act like this, sweetheart… When someone truly loves you, they risk everything for you. They don't hurt you every chance they get. I know he's breaking your heart, but real love shows value. It doesn't make you feel like a sacrifice."
She looked like she was struggling to find the right words.
I was in so much pain. I wanted so desperately to believe that Poyraz loved me.
But I felt like a detective in a massive case… with no evidence.
Who was the real culprit?
Poyraz?
Or me?
"He sent me messages last night," I whispered. "He said he loves me. Maybe he just gets angry sometimes… maybe that's why he acts like that. Maybe he doesn't have anyone else, anywhere else to go but me..."
Asya's gaze fell toward her plate. She shook her head again.
"I can't stand seeing you like this. That Poyraz guy—he always finds a way to pull you back in. Hasn't this happened over and over again, Sinem? Hasn't he apologized, begged, acted all broken just to reel you back? Thousands of times, he's tried to win back the same heart he shattered. This is Poyraz's way. His method. And it needs to end… here and now."
She looked straight into my eyes.
"But it doesn't end," I said, almost protesting. "I keep blaming myself. Every moment… I ask, did I do something wrong? Am I overreacting? Am I pushing him too hard?"
There was a pause. A soft silence that settled between us.
"Sweetheart," she said after a deep breath, "every person has the right to expect love and attention. You're not doing anything wrong. Can we finally stop this whole blaming-yourself routine? Just because Poyraz is hurting doesn't mean he gets to hurt you too, my love."
Her voice softened with compassion.
"Come on," she urged. "Let's eat something… And this time—no apologizing to him, okay? You're not going to grovel at his feet like you've committed some kind of crime. Because you haven't. Don't reply to his messages. And if he's making you uncomfortable, block him."
She got up from her chair and walked over to me, wrapping her arms tightly around my body. And oh, how much my body craved to be held, touched, made to feel like it mattered.
"My little flower," she whispered, "my delicate blossom, my kind-hearted friend… oh, if only you knew."
Her fingers gently threaded through my hair.
"If Poyraz ever hurts you again, I swear—I'll kill him."
Yes… Poyraz had left me with no life left to live.
Asya's words, little by little, started pulling me back to myself.
She let go of me and sat down again. We ate our breakfast in silence. The only sound was the soft clink of a spoon hitting a bowl. Asya, trying to distract me, talked briefly about a movie she watched the night before. I responded with a few half-hearted words—just enough to show I was okay. That was the extent of our conversation.
At twenty-three, I already felt like every drop of life had been drained from me. I didn't know how I'd survive the years ahead.
I pushed my plate aside.
Even just having it in front of me didn't remind me of hunger in my body—
It reminded me of the hunger in my soul.
"Let me take these," I said, glancing at our empty dishes. But the truth was,
I just wanted to reach my phone on the counter.
What would happen if I dared to block Poyraz?
He knew where I lived—where my heart lived too.
He knew my soul better than anyone ever had.
He would find a way to reach me. He always did.
As I sank deeper into my thoughts, the doorbell rang—sharp and loud, shaking the house from top to bottom.
Panic lodged itself in my chest. My stomach twisted with cramps.
That sound meant more than just someone at the door.
It meant fear. It meant uncertainty.
"My package!" Asya shouted, jumping to her feet.
"Oh," I mumbled, dazed. My trembling fingers slowly stilled.
As soon as she said it, a wave of relief washed over me—so sudden and deep, I almost sank in it.
Wearing just a cropped top, she hurriedly threw on her cardigan.
"I'm coming!" she called out as she ran to the door.
This was my chance.
I grabbed my phone and unlocked the screen.
My eyes squinted, like I was bracing for bad news.
Nothing. No message.
I exhaled deeply, a breath I hadn't known I'd been holding.
Relief, uninvited but unstoppable, filled my chest.
Maybe Poyraz was finally leaving me alone.
Maybe this time I'd spoken firmly enough to push him away.
Could it be?
But then… what if this time he really stayed away?
Inside me, a storm of fear and hesitation began to brew.
Asya turned the key hurriedly and opened the door. Her back was to me. From the kitchen, I could see the door clearly.
Time seemed to move slower now. I felt like my body no longer fit inside this house.
Just a package. That's what Asya said… Yes. Just a package.
But…
Then why wasn't anyone handing over a parcel?
Why wasn't the delivery guy asking for a confirmation code?
Why this unsettling silence?
Why was I trembling like my thoughts had been shackled?
Why was my soul flailing like it was caught in a trap?
Then, I heard a voice—familiar, far too familiar—from beyond the door's opening.
My heart began to pound violently.
"Where's Sinem?"
My phone slipped from between my fingers and hit the ground.
The sound startled Asya; she turned toward me in an instant.
From across the hallway, I saw the dark silhouette at the door.
I dropped my gaze, bending down as if to escape the world itself.
I bit my lip without thinking.
A sharp pain crept between my ribs.
"Poyraz…" I whispered, helplessly.
My hair fell into my face—
as if it could hide every bit of innocence I had left.
He had come back.
And the part that scared me the most
wasn't that he returned—
It was that I had been waiting for him all along.