A few days spent at home had done wonders for Deniz, both in spirit and in body. There were no tense meetings here, no technical projects where she was racing against time.
Only her mother's delicious cooking, her sister's playful teasing, and mornings waking up among the flowers on the balcony… The warmth didn't just come from the sun; it seeped from the love inside the house.
That morning, her bedroom door was gently knocked. Derya poked her head inside, a sly smile on her face.
"Mom's gone to the market, come on, let's have coffee—just the two of us. It's gossip hour."
Deniz tossed off her blanket. "Alright, I'm coming. Now go—don't burn the coffee!"
A little later, they met on the balcony. Geraniums bloomed between the pots, their leaves shimmering faintly in the sunlight.
The air was filled with the heavenly scent of coffee. On the balcony table sat a small tray holding two cups. Colorful porcelain mugs filled with frothy coffee… Derya had made hers with two sugars, as always, while Deniz's was plain.
Deniz picked up her cup, letting the foam touch her lips. "So… are you still seeing that doctor?" she asked, glancing sideways at her sister.
Derya instantly cleared her throat and looked around sheepishly. "Shhh… What if Mom shows up suddenly?"
"She won't, she won't." Deniz chuckled teasingly. "Come on, tell me what's going on in the handsome doctor love story."
"He's preparing for the TUS exam. If he passes and gets his specialization, he'll come and ask for my hand," Derya said, a rosy blush spreading over her cheeks.
"Oooh, look at that! A serious man—good for you. How many years has it been now?"
Derya laughed. "That's my boyfriend—quiet, calm, but pure-hearted. And patient."
Deniz raised her cup. "Then we'll be having a wedding this summer—cheers to that!"
Just then, the front door burst open. Their mother came in with her shopping bag hooked over her arm, excitement radiating from her face. The moment she stepped into the living room, she called out to Derya:
"Derya! Sit down, dear, we need to talk urgently!"
Deniz and Derya exchanged glances. Deniz set her cup down on the table, and Derya flinched slightly.
"What is it, Mom?" she asked, her voice uneasy.
Without washing her hands or taking off her coat, their mother sat down in the chair opposite them.
"I've found you a wonderful suitor," she said, her eyes sparkling.
Derya's face went pale. Her lips parted, but no words came out.
Deniz, on the other hand, suddenly spit out her coffee. Droplets rained across the middle of the table.
"Easy, dear! You've splattered it everywhere," their mother said, slightly flustered. Then she immediately turned her gaze to Derya, the real subject of the conversation.
"He lives just in the neighborhood above us—Zehra Hanım's son. Even though I'm not too keen on soldiers because of your father… his family is very respectable. The boy's never been engaged, never dated—polite, well-mannered, and handsome. He's a captain. His leave ends tomorrow, so we barely managed to arrange it for today. I've set up a meeting for you."
Tears welled in Derya's eyes, her lips trembling. "Mom… I don't want to. Really, I don't… please."
"Derya, don't drive me crazy!" their mother snapped, the sweet expression on her face instantly replaced with firm determination.
"You're only going to meet him. Is my request really so little to you? I don't want to hear objections. Get up, get ready—you'll meet him at the café up the street."
She headed toward the kitchen, dropping her shopping bag on the counter. "Wear something light-colored. You need to leave a serious, trustworthy impression."
Deniz looked at Derya in surprise. She didn't want to laugh—but it was funny. "What is even happening right now? Are we filming a 1980s state TV drama?"
Derya began to cry lightly, half-laughing, half-whining. "Deniz… please go in my place. I don't want to. Kenan would break up with me—what's the point of meeting someone else when I already have a boyfriend?"
Deniz shrugged playfully. "Oh, sure. Yours is a doctor, and I get stuck with some clumsy soldier? No way. I'm not desperate enough yet to let people say I flirted with a soldier."
Derya said seriously, "Deniz, like you said, a soldier wouldn't want someone as headstrong or well-groomed as you. Put on a bit of over-the-top makeup and clothes, and you'll scare him away instantly. Please, sis!"
Deniz couldn't resist her sister's helpless look. "Ahh, fine. But you owe me big for this." She stood up.
Lowering her voice, she added with a grin, "Tell your doctor he owes me, too. Maybe someday I'll order a doctor for myself. Don't let him forget!"
They both burst into laughter.
But their mother's voice rang from the kitchen: "Deryaaa! Get ready now! Don't make me come in there!"
The sisters hurried to the bedroom. Derya quietly shut the door behind them, grabbing Deniz's arm, slightly out of breath.
"But won't Mom ask where you're going?" Deniz whispered, a hint of worry in her voice.
Derya thought for a moment, then tapped her temple. "We'll just say you're meeting friends from university. She'll believe it."
"Alright, but…" Deniz sighed. "How exactly am I supposed to make this guy lose interest in me? I have no idea how to do that."
Standing before her wardrobe, Derya turned with a sly smile.
"Just be yourself," she said with a shrug. "Talk down to him—say things like, 'I was just splitting the atom the other day, I'm a genius.' Men don't like women who are smarter than they are—it hurts their ego."
Deniz frowned. "Hmm… what else?"
"Act a little materialistic. Say things like, 'I want my husband to buy me a car, I don't like this or that brand.' Once he realizes he can't meet those expectations on a soldier's salary, he'll run."
Deniz stared at her sister. "Wow, so in your mind I'm a genius and a know-it-all?"
Derya tossed a denim shirt onto the bed. "Of course not. But I'm saying it so that he'll think that. You're actually both gorgeous and smart."
"You ungrateful thing!" Deniz crossed her arms. "I'm not going."
"Deniiiz!" Derya pleaded. "Please, I'm begging you. I don't want to lose Kenan. We've been together for three years—he's about to propose. You know how happy I am."
Seeing the desperation in her sister's eyes, Deniz softened and took a deep breath.
"Alright, alright, don't cry. I'll go."
Derya clapped her hands with joy. "Thank you so much!"
She quickly put on a serious face and pulled Deniz in front of the wardrobe.
"Now… what are we going to dress you in?" she murmured, scanning each dress. "Not too fancy—you're supposed to look materialistic. But not too plain either."
"Does everything have to be so calculated? It's like we're planning a military operation."
"Exactly!" Derya nodded seriously. "This is strategy. Wear that black dress with the expensive stilettos."
Deniz picked up the dress. "Are you kidding? Am I going to a wedding or a café?"
"Do you know how expensive that dress is? You'll look like walking money. I'll do some over-the-top makeup, you'll act high-maintenance, and it'll be done."
As Deniz dressed, she chuckled. "Alright, how should I talk?"
"Always talk about yourself—'I'm this, I'm that, I've achieved this, I have that degree…' Don't listen to him, just keep talking about yourself."
"Wow. You've really studied men, haven't you?"
Derya puffed out her chest with pride. "Of course. We saw plenty of guys like that at university. They're all the same—if you don't stroke their egos, they leave sulking."
Deniz, now dressed, looked in the mirror. Her red hair fell in soft waves over her shoulders, her fair skin glowing in the sunlight.
"How do I look?"
"Perfect! Now, makeup." Derya opened her cosmetic bag. "Some dark eyeshadow, then mascara. And glossy lipstick."
Once the makeup was done, both were ready. Deniz grabbed her bag and headed to the door.
"Alright then, let's go."
They stepped out together.
"Oh, Deniz, you're going out too?" their mother asked, with a hint of curiosity in her eyes.
"Yes, Mom, meeting friends from uni. We thought we'd go together."
"Good idea," their mother said with a smile. "Make sure your sister goes into the café—don't let her run off."
Deniz giggled and winked at Derya. "Alright, Mom, I'll keep an eye on her."
Their mother kept giving instructions to Derya.
"Don't talk too much, listen quietly. If he asks serious questions, answer honestly."
"Okay, Mom," Derya replied patiently.
Calmly, they left the house together. At the corner of the street, Derya stopped. "Deniz, I'm leaving here. I'll wait for you at the café down the road."
"Alright, see you."
Suddenly, Derya grabbed Deniz's arm.
"Please don't blow my cover! Remember—you're Derya."
Deniz gave her a mocking smile. "Still underestimating my intelligence, dear Derya?"
"Sorry, sorry!" Derya laughed. "You're a genius, I just forget sometimes."
"Don't worry—everything will go smoothly."
After saying goodbye, Deniz began walking toward the café. She had prepared herself to play the role, but when she reached the door and saw the man sitting inside, she froze.
He was busy with his phone, but his charismatic posture, handsome face, and striking presence caught her attention. In all her years abroad and in school, she'd never seen a man this attractive. Though she didn't want to admit it, he was genuinely impressive.
She hesitated at the door. When Fatih looked up from his phone and saw her, he immediately realized she was the one he was meeting—there was no one else in the café.
Captain Fatih was the leader of a special unit assigned to a critical base project to be established on the Iğdır border. Before the construction began, he'd taken advantage of a short leave to visit his family in Eskişehir. After years of mission after mission, he barely had time to set foot in his own home.
His mother, however, saw this short visit as an unmissable opportunity. What started with, "It's time to start your own family," soon escalated to, "I won't give you my blessing!"—and Fatih reluctantly agreed to a meeting.
For him, this was merely a formality. He knew all too well how grueling a soldier's life could be. One day, his backpack would be in the east; the next, across the border. Offering such an uncertain life to a woman—dragging her to the most remote corners of Anatolia—felt neither fair nor right to him.
Loving a woman was one thing; limiting her life was another. That's why, deep down, he didn't think starting a serious relationship was right until his assignments stabilized.
Somewhere within him, his love for his family's dreams clashed with his own principles. But he had resolved this conflict years ago: country first, then everything else.
In his military life, he'd mostly encountered short-term or casual flings—but this was the first time he'd seen a woman so beautiful and striking. Her red hair, fair skin, and confident posture were captivating. Her sharp gaze, too, was nothing like the demure image his mother had described.
When he saw Deniz standing at the door, he raised his hand and signaled for her to come over.
Deniz snapped out of her daze, slipped back into character, and walked toward him. As she reached the table, Fatih stood, and she noticed his tall, muscular frame. At 172 cm herself, she wasn't used to looking up at anyone—but he had to be at least 190 cm.
She extended her hand with a smile. "Oh, hi! Am I late? I'm Derya… How are you?" she said, slipping into the role.
Fatih, trying to reconcile the contrast between her appearance and her tone, shook her hand. "Hello."
It seemed this meeting was going to be very interesting.