At 5, they left for Sarah's apartment. Mehmet was driving the car, and the soft expressions from an hour ago had faded.
"You didn't tell me what happened to your hand?" Sarah asked when she looked at it.
"I can't tell you everything, lady," he said and looked at her through the side mirror.
"What do you want from the apartment?" he asked.
"I can't tell you everything, Sir," she replied in the same tone. Mehmet looked at her this time, his expressions still unreadable to Sarah.
"I punched someone and tried to do it again, but he dodged me, so my hand hit the wall," Mehmet said, every single word directed at her.
"I want my books and other stuff from the apartment," she spilled, and he nodded.
"Why didn't you use any ointment?" she asked.
"I like to drive in silence," he said in a gentle but cold way, hands on the steering wheel. She gave him a look and then shifted her gaze outside the window.
Later, she was outside the building with him. They both entered together, but he stopped at the door of her apartment.
"You won't come in?" she asked, and he shook his head.
She went in and looked at the pot. The tulips were still alive; no one had watered them for 2 days. She smiled at them and watered them. Then she grabbed a bag to fill with her stuff.
"Are you done?" he asked from the door.
"Not yet, I'm finding something," she called back, and he sighed. From the door, he looked at the tulip pot near the window. Two tulips were blooming in it. He smirked at them as they brought back a bitter memory, then shifted his gaze to the table. He saw a photo frame in which Sarah was smiling, maybe with her parents and siblings.
That smile… for which he could do anything…
She came back with a backpack and a pack of Doritos in her hand. Mehmet extended his arm to take the backpack.
"I can carry it," she said, but he took it. So, she opened the pack of Doritos.
"You want some?" she asked as he was locking the door. He shook his head.
"Do you like some other flavors?" she asked, and he shook his head again.
"Stop kidding me," she whispered under her breath.
"I never had," he said in a serious tone.
"Don't tell me…" She acted dramatically, as if Doritos were some sort of oxygen.
"Try it," she offered.
"I don't like it," he said and placed her backpack in the backseat, then sat in the driver's seat.
"You never had it, how can you say that?" she argued again in Doritos' defense.
"Have some," she insisted.
"Is it oxygen?" he taunted.
"To me… no, but I love it," she said and smiled proudly.
He looked at her, then his gaze shifted to the pack of Doritos. He took one from the packet and put it in his mouth.
"Did you like it?" she asked excitedly.
"It's extra crunchy," he said.
"Oh, Mehmet!" she sighed.
"How dramatic you are," he couldn't hold the words back.She smiled.
"Have some more," she offered him, but he shook his head.
"It's too loud," he said.
"It should be," Sarah replied.
"Food shouldn't sound like a collapsing building," he said, and Sarah laughed. He looked at her from the corner of his eyes. She picked one and placed it in his hand, and he looked back.
"I don't want it," he said, but still ate it.
Mehmet made the tiniest face, and Sarah laughed again.
"You're dramatic, Mehmet." She handed him another.
He ate it and looked out the window. She was munching, and the crunching sound filled the car. He stopped at a red signal and snatched the bag from her hand.
"Give it back, you said you don't like them!" Sarah protested. He folded the packet and placed it on the dashboard. Sarah didn't argue; she just shot him a look.
The city slowed under the weight of traffic, red lights stretching in an endless line. Mehmet's fingers tapped the steering wheel in a rhythm only he seemed to know. Beside him, Sarah leaned her head against the window, tracing little circles on the fogged glass.
She shivered. Just once but it was enough for him to notice.
"You didn't bring your sweater from the apartment," Mehmet said, his tone flat, like he was stating a crime.
Sarah blinked at him. "I… forgot. It's fine. I'll get it tomorrow."
His jaw tightened as the signal changed. He turned the wheel sharply, sliding the car into another lane.
"Where are we going?"
"Not back to the apartment," he said.
Her brows pulled together. "Mehmet, I said it's fine—"
"You'll catch cold." His eyes stayed on the road, voice curt, absolute. "I don't want that."
Minutes later, they pulled into the underground parking of an upscale mall. The glass-and-steel building rose above them, glowing in the night like a palace of modernity.
"Mehmet…" she groaned. "You can't be serious. Just for one sweater?"
He finally looked at her, and the faintest tug of amusement touched his lips. "You wanted one."
Inside, the boutique was hushed, lined with rows of designer coats, hoodies, and scarves. The staff straightened at the sight of him, eyes flicking nervously to Sarah, then back to Mehmet. He nodded once, and instantly, two attendants moved toward them.
Sarah hissed under her breath. "Don't you dare—"
But Mehmet was already speaking, smooth and low. "Bring her your best. Every size until she finds one."
The attendants scattered like soldiers under orders. Sarah's jaw dropped. "You're unbelievable."
"You're freezing," he countered calmly.
"That doesn't mean you can buy the whole shop!" she shot back.
He didn't answer. Just stood there, arms crossed, watching as she tried on a pale blue hoodie, then a cream-colored coat. His eyes lingered—not hungrily, but carefully, like she was something fragile and rare.
"You're staring," she muttered.
"I'm choosing," he replied simply.
She rolled her eyes, turning to the mirror. "I'll just take this one. That's it."
But by the time she said it, Mehmet was already at the counter, his black card sliding across the glass. The clerk packed not one, but four bags—hoodies, coat, sweater, even a scarf she'd admired only for a second.
"Mehmet!" Sarah grabbed his sleeve. "No. Absolutely not. I didn't agree to this."
He leaned close, voice pitched low so only she could hear.
"Argue if you want. But you'll wear them."
Her breath caught. For a moment, the mall disappeared—the staff, the lights, the polished floors. It was just him, his gaze steady, unmovable, something fierce and protective wrapped in silence.
"Why do you do this?" she whispered.
He looked at her for a long moment.
"Because you should never be without anything you need."
Her protests faltered. She bit her lip, warmth rising in her chest that had nothing to do with the new hoodie.
On the drive back, Sarah sat with the shopping bags piled by her feet. She shook her head, a small smile tugging at her lips despite herself.
"Um, if I tell you something, will you scold me?" she asked as they were nearing his house.
"What?" he asked, not assuring her anything.
"Um… the night in that car… when that man pushed me…
I dropped your book in his car. And then nausea hit me and I don't know where that book is. I know it was rare and an original copy, but…
I'm sorry for…" she was telling him in pieces.
His jaw tightened, and he looked at her.
"It was important, but not more than you," he said and parked the car at his house.
"Forget that night," he added as he got out and picked her backpack from the backseat.
She looked at him going inside with her backpack and shopping bags. She rushed to join him. Anne was sitting in the lounge with her guest, and Mehmet went straight to his room. Sarah unpacked her bag, grabbed some books, packs of Doritos, her diary, and hoodies, coats from shopping bag, and placed everything in its place.
She wore a beige colored sweater and went to the garden. Shadows of night were starting to fall on Istanbul. She sat in a chair, looked up at the sky, and admired the moon. Then she opened her diary and started writing. After some minutes, she closed it and exhaled in relief. She could write anything in her diary.
Eric called her, and she felt a sense of relief.
"I'm sorry, Sarah, I lost my phone," Eric started.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
"Yes, I'm fine. I was just worried about you, that's why I asked Abdullah, as he wasn't picking up my calls either," Sarah explained.
"Oh, he was busy with his next album of flop music," Eric said and chuckled.
"Umhm, this one will be a hit," Sarah predicted.
"Do you want anything? Tell me, I'll drop it at your place," Eric offered.
"No, I'm not there," Sarah said.
"Where are you?" he asked curiously.
"Um… until Aniya comes, I'll stay at… a private hotel," she lied, because she didn't want Eric to know she was staying at Mehmet's. Aniya told her to tell him the same thing.
"Oh okay, that's good for your safety," he agreed.
"Okay, Eric, take care," she said and hung up.
"Take care, Sarah!" he said before the call ended.
She went in, and Mehmet was sitting in the living room.
"Eric is fine," he told her.
"Yes, I know. I just talked to him," she casually said, and his eyes darkened.
"Sleep well," he said and went out, leaving Sarah wondering what happened to him again.
Huh, he and his mood swings…
She had dinner in her room as Anne was busy with her guests. She wanted to sleep but couldn't. She sat in her bed for a while, then hesitated to walk out at night, but still did and sat in the lounge, which was empty now. The hum of the heater…
She looked around but didn't find anything interesting, so she was about to go back to her room when she heard a voice. It was from Anne's room. She knocked and then entered.
Anne was sitting on her bed, looking at something on her phone.
"Sarah," she smiled as she saw her.
"You haven't slept yet?" Sarah said as she sat with her on the bed.
"Sleep is running from me today," Anne smiled.
"I didn't disturb you, did I?" Sarah asked.
"No dear, you didn't. I was bored and looking at Mehmet's pictures," she smiled.
Sarah could feel how lonely she was. She wanted to ask why Anne couldn't talk to him, but she already knew the answer.
"I'll turn 52 soon… and Mehmet…
I haven't talked to him about anything for so long. I don't know what's going on in his life, in his business. I asked Tayyep, he said everything is alright, but I know him. He's like my Mehmet.
He won't tell me if something is wrong with Mehmet.
Last month he said he slammed into a door, but I know the wound was from something else," she said, and Sarah felt a huge burden on her chest.
"The last time he sat with me, he told me about you. And that was 7 months ago." Sarah's heart skipped a beat. She was feeling bad for Anne.
"No mother deserves loneliness ever. Mehmet had to spend time with her,". She thought.
"Do you know what happened to him last month? His forehead?" she asked, and Sarah wanted to tell her but couldn't.
"No. He told all of us he slammed into a door," Sarah lied.
"He'll be alright, Anne," Sarah said, and Anne hugged her.
"Thanks, Sarah, for listening to me," Anne said while rubbing her head.
"I'm always here for you, whenever you want," Sarah replied.
"Sleep now, you're tired," Sarah said and adjusted the blanket over her.
"Goodnight, Sarah," Anne said as Sarah turned off the lights.
"Goodnight, Anne," she whispered.