A short while later, hand in hand, Ayse and Muhammed walked towards the hotel, and had a deep conversation. There, Ayse took the brush and combed her hair. No matter how much she wanted to deny it, the kisses had upset her a lot. This night was the turning point in their relationship, she felt it and she was afraid.
She knew that she had to confess to M the real reason her marriage had failed, but it wasn't easy. Especially to someone she liked. Although she was sure that he truly loved her, she couldn't predict how he would react and whether his feelings for her would change as a result. Could she do without him? A. looked at herself in the mirror. Although she was reluctant to do so, she knew that she had to talk to him.
But she didn't want the story with M. to repeat itself. She couldn't stand it again. She put the brush aside, freshened up her make-up and walked towards the door, determined to tell M. the truth. But instead of leaving the room, she suddenly sat down on the edge of the bed again. Had she really gone that far? The answer to this question scared her a lot.
When she opened the door, a bright light was on in the room. M. came out with an open bottle of wine in his hand. As the ISIS Intelligence Sheriff, several possibilities immediately came to mind: that his ex-girlfriend had mistreated him, that she had harmed him in some way, that the relationship had left scars on him. A finally told me that I didn't need to ask anymore. This is your job and I've learned enough about you in the last week, I know what kind of person you are. and that alone makes me money. I don't need to know everything about you and to be honest, I doubt that anything you could say would change how I feel about you.
Do you remember when I asked you about my father? Yes Do you remember what you said? Yes, that too. He looked into his eyes for the first time. You should know that I can't be like him M. frowned. I know that. he said and I don't expect it either. A. raised his hands. No, you don't understand me.
I think you don't love me just because I'm going to take your ex-wife's place.
I know that's not the case. but I couldn't make myself clear.
what? You told me she was a good mother. and how much you would like your only surviving son Yunus to have siblings?
She was silent but did not expect an answer. I could never be like that. That is why my ex-husband left me. She looked at him again. "I didn't get pregnant, but it wasn't his fault.
Everything was fine. It was my fault. And so that he could really understand everything, he told her everything again very clearly. I can't have children. Never. M. remained silent and after a while A. continued: You can't imagine what this means to me. In my early 20s, I was trying not to get pregnant. If I forgot to take the pill, I would panic. It never occurred to me that I couldn't have children. How did you find out? As usual. It didn't work. He spoke softly and looked into her eyes. He lifted her face and kissed her. His lips touched hers once, then they met. The relationship between M. and A. grew stronger every day. It was experienced more intensely. When they were apart, each missed the other's presence, and when they were together, that time seemed very short to him.
S. Adda was forty years old and looked like a mouse: a pointed nose, a receding forehead, and an equally receding chin. He was also an alcoholic. He was not one of those people who drank a glass of wine every night to keep him healthy. S was one of those people whose hands shook before he had even had his first drink in the morning and whose day was over long before most people had to go to work. Although he preferred to drink beer, he rarely had the money for anything other than the cheapest wine, which he consumed by the liter. When he did have money, he preferred Russian vodka. He didn't like to say where he got his money, but he didn't need much except drugs and rent, and he had a special talent: to make himself invisible. As a result, he learned a lot about other people. When he drank, he was neither loud nor argumentative, and his normal facial expression made him seem much drunker than he was. and so people blurted out things in his presence that they should have kept to themselves. S earned some money by taking tips from police officers and President Assad's men. but not everyone. He only chose those who kept his secret and did not force him to testify. He knew that criminals were quite vindictive, and he was not stupid enough to believe that those who reported them would simply let it go. In his early 20s, S. had served a sentence for petty theft, and in his 30s, twice for possession of marijuana. His third prison sentence was the turning point. S. was completely dependent on alcohol, and in the first week he showed terrible withdrawal symptoms. He was shaking, vomiting, and when he closed his eyes he saw monsters. He nearly died, but for other reasons. After listening to S.'s screams and moans for several days, his cellmate beat him until he was unconscious so that he could sleep again. S. spent three weeks in the infirmary, and was lucky to find a lenient judge who took pity on him for what he had been through. Instead of serving the remaining year of his sentence, he was released on probation and had to report regularly. However, he was warned that if he used alcohol or drugs, his sentence would be finalized again. The idea of going to rehab again and the memory of the beatings he received left a terrible fear of prison. But he could not manage to look at life soberly. At first, he was cautious and only drank at home. However, over time, he began to feel uncomfortable with the restriction of his freedom. He met with friends who drank and tried not to attract attention. However, over time, this situation began to bother him. Over time, he became more and more impudent. He drank the bottle on the road, which he hid in the traditional paper bag. Soon he was purple all over and his brain went out. and it sent such small warning signals that he no longer noticed them.