At the Mehmet's library, Eric approached Sarah.
"You look disturbed," he said.
"No, just a tired day," she replied, brushing it off, but the scarf and pot lingered in her mind.
Eric smiled. "Have you ever been to my apartment?" Sarah asked.
"Me? No, you never invited me," Eric said with a smile.
"Oh, okay," Sarah said absently.
"Are you alright?" Eric asked, sensing something was off.
"Yes, I'm fine," she replied.
"I thought you were going to invite me," he said.
"Oh, yeah, sure. You can come whenever, but let me know first," Sarah said, snapping back to attention.
"You still didn't invite me," he said, smiling. Sarah noticed he wasn't tying his hair in a bun today.
"Well, okay, you can come for lunch on Sunday," she offered with a smile.
"It sounds like I'm ordering you. Never mind, I'll come another time," he said.
"No, no, it's fine. You can come," Sarah said hesitantly.
"Okay, I'll come," Abdullah chimed in as he passed by. They both laughed softly.
"Are you sure you're alright?" Eric asked again.
"Do you want me to write that on an e-stamp with my signature?" Sarah replied sarcastically. Eric smiled and stood to leave.
"The hair bun suits you more, Eric," she called after him.
Eric stopped. Something in his heart warmed. He bowed his head slightly in thanks, and Sarah smiled.
As she turned back to her work, she noticed Mehmet's office door was open. He was staring at her.
"Miss Sarah, draft this and come to my office," she received an email from him.
Later, Sarah knocked on Mehmet's door.
"Come in, Miss Sarah," she heard his voice.
"How did you know it was me?" she asked as she entered, but he didn't answer.
"When will you stop making me teach you this again and again?" he said, marking something on the draft file.
"I forgot," Sarah said hesitantly.
"You forget too soon," he replied.
A strong feeling hit her. She had heard those words earlier—Aniya had said them at noon.
"I'm talking to you, Miss Sarah," Mehmet said, snapping her out of her thoughts.
"Sorry, I was—" she murmured.
"Give me the contract file," he said.
"I gave it to Kerman yesterday," Sarah replied.
Mehmet's gaze lingered on her face. "Tell me. I'm listening," he said suddenly.
"Tell you what?" she asked.
"The thing which is bothering you," Mehmet said, still watching her.
"Nothing's bothering me. Just a long day," she said nervously.
"Learn to lie better, Miss," he said.
"I asked you to teach me, but you don't teach people with low IQs," Sarah reminded him of their old conversation. He smirked slightly.
"Tell me when you trust me," he said, and Sarah felt a flutter in her heart.
"Give me the file. It's in that drawer," Mehmet pointed to a drawer.
She opened the first drawer instead of the second—and there it was.
Her scarf, wrapped in paper.
Mehmet moved quickly. "I said the second drawer, Miss," he said, shutting the first drawer and grabbing the file from the other.
"That's my scarf," she murmured.
"No, it's not yours," he lied, still standing close.
"No, I know it's mine. I saw my lipstick stain on it," she said.
"Then take it," he said reluctantly, sitting back in his chair.
Sarah opened the drawer and took her scarf, shooting Mehmet a look.
"Next time, try knocking on my apartment door instead of sneaking in like a thief," she said in a low, furious voice.
"You left it here. I didn't take it from your apartment. I'm not mad," he said without looking at her.
"I never wore it in the office, Mehmet. And that tulip pot—was that you?" she demanded.
For a fraction of a second, Mehmet's eyes softened, as if carrying a memory he couldn't let spill.
"I don't know what you're talking about," he lied, signing a paper.
"Oh, really? I ignored everything, Mehmet, but now you're going too far," she said, her tone sharp.
"Ignore what, Lady?" he asked innocently.
"I'm taking this, and I won't come tomorrow. I can't work here anymore," Sarah said, turning to leave.
"Sharp 3:30, we have a meeting. Don't be late," Mehmet replied as if nothing had happened.
"I won't come. I'm not your slave, okay? I won't come," she snapped.
"You're making a fuss," he said.
She turned back to him. "Seriously? I'm making a big deal? Why did you come to my apartment without my permission, leave that tulip pot, and steal my scarf?" Her voice was challenging.
"It smelled like you," he said, his gaze fixed on her face.
Sarah froze. He had never been this direct before.
"Whatever. I'm not coming back here. That's final," she said, slamming the door behind her.
When she left, Mehmet's cold expression shattered. He threw a penholder at the wall in fury.
---
"I'm going home. Are you coming?" Aniya asked Sarah later.
"No, I'm finishing all my work today," Sarah replied without looking up.
"I asked the guard. He said he didn't see anyone," Aniya told her.
"I know who it was. I'll tell you later when I get back," Sarah said, and Aniya nodded.
---
Later, when almost everyone had left, Sarah was still working on her last file.
"You're still here?" Mehmet's voice startled her.
"Finishing my work," she said curtly.
"Do it tomorrow. For now, go home," he said.
"I've done it, and as I told you earlier, I won't come tomorrow," she said, standing up.
"These are the files you asked me to draft, and—" she began.
"Look, we can sort this out, Miss Sarah," he interrupted.
"I don't want anything sorted out, Mehmet," she said, walking past him.
He caught her wrist.
"Let me go," she warned, but he just stared at her, his expression unreadable.
"Let me go, Mehmet. You have no idea how it felt wondering if someone had been in my home, not sleeping for nights, checking every corner like a fool. And you… you stood there like nothing happened. I was doubting Eric but he's better than you, she said in a low, furious voice.
"Don't say his name," Mehmet shot back.
"Why? Will it hurt your precious ego?" she snapped, pulling away.
"Let go of my hand, Mehmet, or I'll forget who you are," Sarah warned.
He didn't release her.
She grabbed a paperweight.
"I'll throw this at you," she threatened.
"You got your scarf back. What more do you want?" he said.
"I want you to let go of my hand, because you're proving I can't trust you." she said.
"I won't," he replied.
"You're overreacting, as usual," he said lightly, almost dismissively and his grip tightened.
Sarah struck his forehead with the paperweight. He flinched but didn't let go. A small trickle of blood appeared. Sarah's heart stopped. He touched his forehead and stared at the blood on his fingers. And he looked at her again.
He tried to pull her closer, and she slapped him hard.
The sound echoed in the silent library.
Mehmet froze. So did Sarah. She couldn't believe what she had just done.
His gaze lingered on her not with anger, but something unspoken—like he was letting go of the only secret that had ever mattered.
He released her hand and looked into her eyes.
"You can go. I won't disturb you again. Ever," he said and walked away.
His words echoed in her ears:
"I won't disturb you again. Ever."
A tear slipped down her cheek as she left the library.