"Where were you, Eric?" Aniya scolded when he finally arrived.
"Taking photos," he shrugged.
"Mehmet would've killed me. He's been waiting half an hour," Aniya added.
They got into the car. Aniya slept like a baby in the backseat. Mehmet drove while Eric sat beside him, discussing politics and international affairs. Mehmet spoke well—but too often, his words weighed heavier than the conversation demanded. Eric noticed two cars following theirs but he ignored them.
After a tedious journey, Mehmet stopped the car in front of Aniya's apartment building.
"Thank you, Mehmet Sir. See you tomorrow," Aniya said as she stepped out. Mehmet gave a slight nod.
Aniya hugged Sarah the moment she opened the door.
"I was so scared, Sarah! I swear I'll kill you if you ever forget to charge your phone and wander the streets again," she said.
"Don't worry. I'm not planning to star in a missing-person poster. Next time I'll carry a power bank and pepper spray," she affirmed.
Sarah shared the previous night's events lightly, while Aniya recounted Izmir stories: Mehmet's house, his expressions, his taunts. They could've won an award for debating Mehmet's moods.
________________________________________
After dropping off Eric, Mehmet noticed Sarah's message but ignored it. His car pulled into a mansion where Tayyep waited.
"You said you'll come back on Monday," Tayyep greeted.
"I couldn't risk it," Mehmet replied.
"Risk? What happened?"
"Nothing. The deal is secure," he said.
"Good. Give me the papers from Izmir," Tayyep said.
"They're in my bag. How's your mother?" Mehmet asked.
"Fine. She invited you to dinner," Tayyep said.
"I'll be there," Mehmet answered.
"I booked flights for your anne.," Tayyep added.
"Send me the details," Mehmet called over his shoulder.
"And what did you bring from Izmir?"
Mehmet paused. "I'm here. Isn't that enough?"
Tayyep laughed. "Restaurant bills and discount vouchers don't count."
________________________________________
University work drained them. Sarah sat in the lobby when Eric approached.
"I'm planning a full Istanbul tour for you so you won't get lost again," he said.
"I'll still forget. Directions aren't my thing," she laughed softly.
"Then I'll make you a paper map," he offered.
"Better idea," she agreed.
"Look, I brought something," Eric said, pulling a framed photo—a sunset over Izmir, the light dancing across the scene.
"You should follow your passion, Eric. You're an amazing photographer," Sarah said, tracing the glass.
"Thank you. But I won't accept anything else," she added gently. Eric bowed his head, eyes brighter, maybe because she admired him.
"Mehmet said we could work permanently if we wanted," Aniya mentioned.
"We're not that crazy," Sarah waved dismissively. Aniya hummed a Pakistani song while Abdullah attempted the lyrics.
"It's going to rain today," Eric said softly.
________________________________________
The interns gathered in the meeting room as rain tapped against the windows, thickening the air. Eric leaned toward Sarah, whispering something. She bit back a laugh.
Mehmet's pen froze mid-sentence. His gaze locked on her.
"Miss Sarah, is this a comedy club? Or do you plan to take work seriously today?"
The tone wasn't raised, but it cut sharper than a shout. The room froze. Sarah straightened.
After the meeting, everyone scattered. Sarah was almost at her desk when his voice cut sharply:
"Miss Sarah. My office." She sighed.
Inside, the door clicked shut.
"You think this is a joke?"
"I wasn't—"
"Don't lie. You weren't listening. You were too busy with Eric," he nearly hissed.
"Am I not allowed to smile?"
"You're allowed to do your job," he snapped.
"And you're allowed to not humiliate people," she shot back.
A brief pause. Rain pounded the glass.
"Go," he said.
She left quietly. After two hours of silence and work even Eric's yellow rose didn't coax a smile. Aniya and Abdullah tried jokes, but Sarah stayed at her laptop.
"She needs space," Aniya whispered, ushering them out.
Hours later, the storm raged. Rain lashed the windows; the nearly empty library flickered under unstable power. Sarah stubbornly worked, finishing her draft.
When she knocked on Mehmet's door to deliver it, he stood at the window, sleeves rolled up, the city blurred in silver sheets of rain.
"You should've gone home hours ago," he said without turning.
"You said the work had to be done today," she replied.
"And you thought I'd want you walking in this?" His voice sharpened.
"I'll be fine," she said quietly.
He turned, closing some of the space between them.
"Don't let me hear about you wandering in storms again," he said low.
"I wasn't wandering. I was fine," she insisted.
"You were lucky," he said, his eyes flicking to the yellow rose, jaw tightening. He looked back at the storm, quiet.
"Go home, Miss Sarah. Now."
"I want leave tomorrow," she said cautiously.
"Why?"
"No reason. I just… want to wander around," she said.
"In this weather?"
"It'll clear by tomorrow," she countered.
"Be here at four with the others," he ordered.
"But—"
His gaze silenced her.
After a moment she walked out.
After the door clicked, Mehmet returned to the window, watching the rain blur the streetlights. Under his breath, he muttered something barely audible:
"Storms… never end nicely."
She went out of the building and smirked faintly, letting a spark of amusement slip. "I guess storms aren't my favorite co-workers either," she said lightly, brushing rain from her coat.
________________________________________
Later that evening, after the hectic day, Sarah returned to her apartment, shoulders slumped, hair slightly messy from the chaos of the day. The city outside hummed softly, a reminder that life didn't pause for anything. Aniya was sleeping.
Her laptop opened with a reluctant sigh. Deadlines glared at her from the screen: assignments, draft submissions, and reports all piling up. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, but fatigue made her pause.
"Okay… one thing at a time," she muttered, trying to organize her thoughts. She typed a few sentences, erased them, typed again. Her notes were scattered, her coffee long gone cold.
She pulled her phone from her bag. Abdullah had gone off to his own work. Eric was probably editing photos somewhere. She needed someone familiar, someone who could make her feel a little less trapped in this whirlwind.
She dialed her brother's number.
" Sarah! How's you doing, bunny?" His cheerful voice came through, and she couldn't help but smile a little.
"I'm drowning," she admitted, collapsing onto the couch. "Deadlines everywhere. I feel like I'm running a marathon I never signed up for."
"Sounds intense. You okay?" he asked.
"I will be… eventually. Just needed to hear a normal voice," she said, rubbing her eyes. "I miss home. I miss… you."
"We all do, Sarah. But I know you'll get through it. You always do," he reassured her.
They talked for a while about small things, about memories, about silly moments from childhood. It helped her breathe, helped her feel grounded.
When the call ended, Sarah stared at her laptop again. The deadlines hadn't vanished, the tasks weren't any lighter, but somehow, she felt a little steadier. She wasn't a robot; she was human, messy and tired, but capable.
She took a deep breath, opened her notes, and muttered to herself, "Alright, Sarah. Let's tackle this… one step at a time.