The early morning sun lit up Istanbul's skyline with shades of gold and amber as Ayla crammed the last sweater into her suitcase. Her hands shook a bit—not from the chill, but from a mix of excitement and nerves. It had been two years since she had seen her sister, heard her laugh, or felt safe.
"Got everything?" Liam called from the doorway, his Danish accent softening the Turkish words he had practiced so hard. His brown hair was all over the place, like he had run his hands through it a million times that morning.
Ayla zipped up the suitcase with more force than needed. "I think so. Passport, tickets, phone charger..." She hesitated, biting her lip. "Do you think she'll look different?"
Liam crossed the room and wrapped her in a hug, resting his chin on her head. "Probably. But she's still your sister. That won't change."
His phone buzzed in his pocket—once, twice, three times quickly.
Ayla noticed him tense up. "Who's that?"
