Sarah woke up with a bandage on her hand, and the night flashed in her mind. She smiled unknowingly. She checked her phone and found messages from Aniya saying: "Try to be Sarah and don't overthink. Just pray, and if he's good for you, he'll be in your naseeb no matter the circumstances. Culture wulture is nothing."
Sarah laughed. Culture wulture, what a combo. She knew Aniya was right, so she got out of bed and got ready.
"Will you take me to the library today?" Sarah asked as she saw him sitting in the living room.
"Your hand," he reminded her.
"It's fine. I can work," she tried to convince him.
"There are just two days left until Aniya comes back. You can rejoin then," he replied in a gentle tone. He looked at her this time. She was wearing a white suit with light block printing. Her hair fell down over her shoulder. He saw her in white for the first time.
A swan.
Sarah went into the kitchen, and his eyes followed her.
"Morning," she smiled.
"Morning, Sarah," Anne greeted her with a big smile.
"I wanted to thank you last night, but you were asleep," Anne said as she squeezed her hand gently.
"Thank me for what?" Sarah asked.
"You made Mehmet live again," Anne said softly, with pure intentions.
"I didn't. He was rooting for you, just needed a push," Sarah smiled.
"What happened to your hand?" Anne noticed the bandage, worried.
"Glass," Sarah replied quickly.
"It's just a scratch," she lied.
"Careful, Sarah." Anne kissed her head.
"We'll bake today if you don't mind?" she offered.
"Of course, I'd love to," Sarah said excitedly.
She went back into the living room, and Mehmet got distracted again.
"Um, Sarah, have you read this book?" Mehmet showed her one.
"Yes, I have," she said, still standing.
"Will you tell me the story, the plot?" he asked.
"Do you really want to listen?" Sarah's eyes lit up with joy. She always told Aniya or her brother about books.
Mehmet nodded. She sat with him on the couch, holding the book, and began. She was so deeply immersed in retelling the story that she did not notice how close he leaned in. Mehmet had read that book three times already, but he wanted to hear it from her lips.
He smiled at the way she described the twists, gasping as if revealing a secret, her expressions shifting with every turn. She was the best storyteller, or maybe Mehmet was her best admirer.
If she's your future, don't wait for her to run… Anne's voice rang in his head.
Don't lose her, or you won't survive… Tayyep's voice followed.
Sarah paused to breathe.
"Am I speaking too fast?" she asked, catching his gaze locked on her.
He shook his head. "You're doing great. I'm thinking of hiring you as my personal storyteller," he smirked.
"You can't afford me," Sarah replied proudly.
"I can do anything to have this opportunity," he said, smiling meaningfully.
"You want me to continue?" she asked, and he nodded. She started again, but his thoughts betrayed him.
"If the world stopped turning tonight, I'd still sit here, watching her breathe life into words.
Who needs empires when her voice is worth more than all of it?" He hid a smile.
Sarah shifted slightly, glancing at him for a second before continuing. But Mehmet wasn't listening to half the story—his eyes were fixed on her lips, her brows, the flicker of emotion on her face.
"If she knew… if she knew I'd trade the world just to watch her like this."
She noticed his gaze.
"You're not even listening to me, Mehmet," she said, looking back at him.
"I'm listening. How could I not?" he replied, and her chest tightened.
If he keeps staring like that, I'll forget every word… she thought.
"Breakfast is ready. I'll continue later," Anne's voice called, so Sarah said.
Mehmet placed börek on her plate. Anne smiled at them.
"Um, Mehmet, I have to go to my apartment today," Sarah told him.
"When?" he asked, sipping his kehwa.
"Whenever," she replied.
"Do you need anything?" Anne asked.
"No, actually, my parcel arrived yesterday from Pakistan. The guard kept it safe, so I need to pick it up," Sarah said slowly.
"Oh, okay," Anne smiled.
"I can get it for you if you want," Mehmet offered.
"Okay," Sarah nodded.
After breakfast, Sarah was painting in her room. Anne had gone to Tayyep's home, and Mehmet was in the library.
She wasn't doing well with the painting.
"What the hell… Anne told me not to hold the brush like this," she muttered, struggling with uneven strokes.
Mehmet stood behind her, watching silently for a while before stepping closer.
"Not like this, Sarah," his voice was low as he took her hand.
She stiffened when she felt him near, the warmth of him sinking into her.
"Relax your wrist, like this," he guided, his other hand bracing the easel, trapping her gently between him and the canvas.
Sarah tried to focus, but his breath grazed her ear, each word sinking deeper than the paint.
"Distracted?" he whispered.
Her heart stumbled, the brush slipping slightly.
"I'm not…" she managed, though her voice betrayed her.
He chuckled softly, close enough that she felt it in her bones.
"Then why are your hands trembling, Miss Sarah?"
She swallowed, caught between his voice and the brush. Just when the air felt too heavy, he stepped back, releasing her hand slowly.
"Again. Do it without me now."
The lesson continued, but her pulse did not.
"Your hand is injured. Do it tomorrow," he advised.
"Maybe that's why I wasn't doing well. Anne taught me everything," she tried to hide her bad skills, and he smiled softly.
"Want to go with me?" he asked as she stood up.
"Where?"
"To pick up your parcel," he reminded her.
"Uh, I don't know," she shrugged.
"You like to drive in silence, and I don't. So you should go," she teased.
"I'll use earbuds, so you can talk to yourself as much as you want," he smirked.
"I'm not going with you," Sarah shot back.
"Do you want anything else from the market?" he asked.
"Doritos," she smiled mischievously.
"Huh… okay, I'll bring them," he sighed.
"White suits you, Sarah. But not more than black," he admitted softly before leaving.
She stared at the door long after he left, still feeling his hands guiding hers, his breath near her ear.
Later, she baked a cake with Anne.
"Sarah, I wish you could stay here longer," Anne said while taking the cake from the oven.
"I will come to meet you, Anne," Sarah smiled, whisking the cream.
"And when you go to Pakistan? Will you come from there too?"
Sarah paused. She had to leave Turkey someday.
"I don't promise, but I'll try," she managed to say without a shaky voice.
"You don't have to promise," Anne said warmly.
"But even trying means you're thinking of coming back. And sometimes, that's enough to keep people waiting."
Sarah forgot to blink. The weight of Anne's words pressed on her heart.
Mehmet had sent one of his men to buy Doritos. The guard's expressions were entertaining , he was confused. Mehmet picked up Sarah's parcel, placing it carefully in the backseat.
When he returned, Sarah was sitting in the lounge, scrolling her phone. He set the parcel on the table, and the guard placed three boxes of Doritos and other snacks beside it.
"I didn't plan to open a shop, Mehmet. I wanted two or three packs, not boxes," she laughed.
He shrugged.
Sarah excitedly opened her parcel. She pulled out a Kashmiri shawl and placed it carefully on the table.
"You wanted this?" Mehmet asked.
"It's handmade, from Kashmir. For Anne," she smiled.
He sat on the floor beside her as she continued. She showed him a diary, with Urdu written on the back.
"Should I translate?" Sarah asked.
"No, I understand Urdu," he said casually.
"You're kidding," she looked at him in disbelief.
"I'm not," he replied.
"So you understood all those conversations with Aniya?" She was shocked.
"Yes. And those calls with your brother where you called me Chengez Khan," he smirked.
Sarah flushed. "You should have told me!"
"And Anne… does she know Urdu too?" she asked.
"No. Baba only taught me," Mehmet replied.
Sarah pulled out two scarves, one white and one black, the same style she had lost the night of the kidnapping.
"They look good on you," he said softly, struggling to look away from her face.
She handed him a black shawl. "This one is for you. I didn't know what you liked, so I thought…"
"Why" , he asked.
" Mama was sending me these scarves so I thought ... " She didn't complete the sentence.
"So you told your Anne about me?" he smiled meaningfully.
"Yes. She knows your name as my arrogant boss at the library… and one of my favorite authors," Sarah teased.
For the first time, he felt his literary work had never been more loved.
"One of your favorites? Not your only favorite?" he smirked.
"There are many authors I like. You're one of them. I once tried to get your signed copy, but…" she trailed off.
"But?" he pressed.
"It was sold out before I could order," she sighed.
"Oh, so you are my die-hard fan," he smirked.
"Not at all. I was just collecting signed books," she said with a grin.
They both sat on the floor. Sarah opened a pack of Doritos.
"Why don't you like them, Mehmet? They're so good. Look, try this one," she offered, holding one piece.
He took it from her hand and ate it.
"It's better than the orange one. But I still don't like it."
Sarah laughed, and they continued snacking together. She told him about her family and childhood. Mehmet just listened, memorizing every expression.
"What happened here?" She noticed a scar on his neck.
"Nothing," he tried to brush it off.
"I hate when people keep secrets," she said.
"Some things aren't worth telling," he replied.
"You're not a mafia-type businessman, are you?" she asked cautiously.
He laughed, his voice echoing. "Why you always ask me this? What if I am?"
"Then what can I do? I'll go the day after tomorrow, and then only library time will remain for us. So I don't care about your mafia business," she said dramatically.
"Don't worry. I don't work like that. But yes, some people are worth showing a different side to," he said quietly.
"How many sides do you have, Mehmet Ibrahim?" she teased, wiping Doritos crumbs from her hand. She reached for tissues, but he caught her hand and wiped it with his handkerchief.
"Now your handkerchief is dirty," she protested. He shrugged.
"Anne and I baked a cake today," she said quickly, trying to steady her breath as Mehmet didn't release her hand.
He brushed his thumb gently over her palm.
"Sarah…" he leaned in slightly.
"Nothing," he murmured but still didn't let go. Instead, he shifted closer, their shoulders brushing. Sarah leaned back a little and Mehmet noticed it, smiled.
"You know, I can read hands," Mehmet said playfully.
"You've been holding mine for five minutes," she teased back.
"You're noticing time?" he smirked.
"Because you're taking forever," she whispered.
"I noticed," he murmured, still tracing her palm. "You're making it very distracting."
Sarah shivered lightly at his touch.
Anne's voice from the kitchen made her pull back, but Mehmet still held her hand.
"I won't let you go so easily," he smiled.
"Your future is bright," he said in a detective tone, "but you'll have to help someone survive this world."
"And who's that someone?" she asked, half-laughing.
"Look around. Maybe you'll find him," he said, squeezing her hand gently before letting go.
Sarah still felt his warmth even after.
She stood up, and so did Mehmet. She started toward the kitchen, but the rug caught her foot and she stumbled. She did not fall, but the quick jolt made her dizzy. Mehmet caught her.
"Are you okay?" he asked softly, eyes scanning hers.
"Yes. The rug," she said.
"Be careful with it," he replied, releasing her arm.
If he stayed distant, it would be easier. But he keeps breaking my defenses. She thought.
Sarah's phone rang. It was Eric.
"What does he want now?" Mehmet muttered under his breath, and Sarah heard it.
She answered. "Can we go for a walk today, Sarah?" Eric asked.
"Not today. Maybe Monday," she replied. Mehmet's jaw tightened.
"Okay, but don't forget," Eric said gently. "Do you need anything?"
"No, I'm fine. Thanks for asking," Sarah smiled.
"Take care, Sarah," he said and hung up.
"Take care, Eric," she echoed and ended the call.
"He cannot walk alone?" Mehmet said dryly.
"As you could not walk alone in Balat," she shrugged.
"Oh yes, I forgot. He is better than me," Mehmet snapped and walked out.
"Mood swings," Sarah murmured, trying not to smile.
"Luck runs out, Mr. Eric. You're too young to be destroyed." Mehmet said to himself in a low voice from the hall.
________________________________________
Next day
Sarah entered the living room to find Tayyep lounging with Mehmet.
"Hello, Sarah, nice to see you here," Tayyep said with a grin, bowing his head.
"Nice to see you too, Tayyep," she tilted her head, smiling back.
"I thought you might have forgotten me, so I came over," he smirked.
"How could I forget you, Tayyep Bey?" she teased. Her gaze drifted to Mehmet. "Where's Anne?"
"In her room. You're already dressed—when she comes, we'll leave," Mehmet replied.
"Leave? Where?"
"The art gallery," Tayyep jumped in.
"I'm not ready," she frowned.
"You're pretty," Mehmet said quietly in Urdu.
"Yes, I'm but still..," she shot back with a small smile.
"So now you speak in code in front of me?" Tayyep exaggerated a wounded look.
"You're not worthy of our secrets," Mehmet muttered dryly. Sarah laughed and went to change.
When she returned, wearing her maroon skirt and black blouse, Mehmet's gaze lingered a fraction too long before he turned away.
At the Gallery
The gallery gleamed with white walls and polished marble floors, the hush of admiration hanging in the air. Anne drifted toward portraits, Tayyep kept the mood light, but Mehmet stayed a step behind Sarah—watching her more than the art.
She stopped before a bronze sculpture: a woman holding a lantern, her unfinished face hauntingly alive. Sarah's breath caught.
Anne joined her. "Do you like it?"
Sarah smiled softly. "It feels like she's waiting for someone." She turned away before the weight of it lingered, though her eyes clung to it once more before moving on. Mehmet noticed.
Later, at a small restaurant, Mehmet poured tea into Sarah's cup before his own.
"You never do that for me," Tayyep complained in Turkish.
"Because you're not my wife," Mehmet replied smoothly.
"Is she?" Tayyep teased, filling his own cup.
"Soon," Mehmet murmured in Turkish.
Anne laughed at their antics while Sarah, not understanding, quietly observed the restaurant's chandeliers. Mehmet leaned toward her. "Do you want something else?"
"No, I'm fine," she replied politely.
"You've filled our home with happiness, Sarah," Anne said gently, squeezing her hand. "I'll miss you."
"I'll come often, Anne. I promise," Sarah smiled, though her throat tightened.
Mehmet lowered his gaze.
How easily Anne could say such things, he thought.
For him, it was not so easy, three months more, then she would be gone.
Tayyep leaned back. "Eric was asking about you."
Sarah blinked, caught off guard. "Oh, I spoke to him yesterday."
"He has a surprise for you," Tayyep added carelessly.
"A surprise?" she frowned.
"He'll tell you himself," Tayyep shrugged.
Mehmet's jaw flexed as he stared into his untouched cup.
They finished their breakfast and stood to leave.
In the car, Tayyep spotted a box on the seat. "What's this?"
"Sculpture," Mehmet answered simply.
Sarah froze. "You… bought it?"
Mehmet glanced at her. "You liked it."
Her voice tightened. "Mehmet, I can't accept that."
He shrugged. "Everything we like doesn't mean it should stay out of our reach."
"And everything we like doesn't mean it should be ours," she countered.
"It should," he smirked faintly.
She turned her face to the window, her chest tight.
"If you guys don't want it, then give it to me," Tayyep thought mischievously.
Later they were at home , Tayyep gone and Anne was taking rest.
Sarah zipped the side pocket of her suitcase when Mehmet entered, holding an envelope. His face gave nothing away.
"I arranged your visa extension. You can stay." he said evenly.
Sarah froze. "What?"
"Six more months. Everything is settled." He placed the envelope on the table as though it were nothing.
Her heart thudded. "You did this… without even asking me?"
His gaze sharpened. "Why does it matter who asked? You were struggling with the paperwork, the deadlines. Now it's solved."
"That's not the point, Mehmet!" Her voice rose, cracking. "You keep doing this—deciding for me, moving things around as if I'm one of your business deals. Do you ever stop to think what I want?"
For a moment his expression wavered, but then the steel returned.
"I only did what was best for you."
"No," she shot back, her throat tightening. "You did what was best for you. You don't want me to leave this house, so you make sure I can't. You don't want me to choose for myself, because what if my choice isn't you?"
That landed. His jaw clenched, eyes burning with something he couldn't name.
"And what if it isn't? What then, Sarah? Am I supposed to watch you slip back into your world as if this… we… never existed?"
Her breath hitched, but she held his gaze. "Don't you dare twist this into love when it feels like control. If you really care, Mehmet, let me live on my terms. Not yours. And I was right, Eric is better than you, at least he gives me space."
The suitcase sat between them like a wall. He looked at her for a long time, his fingers flexing as though he might tear the envelope in half. But he didn't. Instead, he left it there, silent, and walked out.
Next morning
The house felt too still. Sarah moved quietly, her suitcase already by the door, every sound of its wheels echoing through the hall like a reminder.
Anne was in the kitchen, humming softly as she prepared tea. She looked up when Sarah entered.
"Good morning, dear." Her smile was warm, but her eyes searched Sarah's face. "You don't look rested."
"I'm fine," Sarah whispered, avoiding her gaze.
Anne touched her hand gently. "Then promise me one thing, don't forget that this house is always open for you."
Sarah's throat tightened, but she only nodded, pressing Anne's hand in return.
Moments later, Mehmet appeared. Dark suit, straight posture, expression unreadable. He greeted Anne softly, then gave Sarah only a small nod.
Anne sensed the silence between them. "I'll check the garden," she said, excusing herself.
The air turned heavier. Mehmet finally spoke, his voice even.
"Car is waiting outside. It will take you to your apartment."
She gripped the handle of her suitcase. "Thank you."
"You don't have to say thanks to me Miss Sarah," He replied softly.
Before she could move, he placed an envelope on the table—the same one from last night.
"I won't force this. It's your choice. Always was."
Her chest ached at the crack in his tone, but pride kept her still.
Sarah slipped her bag onto her shoulder, ready to leave. She paused at the doorway, smiling politely. "Thank you for everything, Anne. You've been… very kind."
Anne, standing by the console, tilted her head with that small, knowing smile only mothers carried.
Anne reached into a small velvet box on the console table and opened it. Inside was a delicate bracelet — thin gold chain, a single swan charm glinting in the light. Not heirloom-old, but clearly chosen with care.
She held it out. "For you."
Sarah blinked, startled. "Anne, I…. I can't accept this."
"You can," Anne said gently, already fastening it around Sarah's wrist with steady fingers. "It's nothing grand. I saw it, and thought of you. That's all."
Sarah's throat tightened. "It's beautiful… thank you."
Anne's hand lingered briefly on her wrist, her eyes soft but steady. "Swans, Sarah… they don't leave. No matter how harsh the season. Remember that."
Before Sarah could answer, Mehmet's voice called faintly from outside, his tone gruff but familiar. Anne only smiled, hugging her.
She went out and saw him standing there, near the car.
"Goodbye, Mehmet," she said softly without turning.
For a moment, silence. Then his voice, low, almost breaking:
"Stay safe, Sarah."
She stepped outside, closing the door behind her, the words lingering like a shadow.
After 30 minutes
Aniya opened the door and pulled Sarah into a hug before she could even step inside.
"Finally," she smiled. "I thought Mehmet locked you in there forever."
Sarah tried to laugh, but the sound cracked. She dragged her suitcase inside and sat on the couch, her hands twisting in her lap.
Aniya stilled. "What happened?"
For a moment Sarah said nothing, but then her chest rose sharply, and tears slipped before she could stop them. "Aniya…" her voice broke, "I think I ruined everything."
Aniya's smile vanished. She slid beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.
"Ruined what? Sarah, breathe. Tell me."
Sarah pressed her palms to her face. "He… he extended my visa without asking. He said it was for me, but it felt like—like control. I told him he doesn't let me choose for myself… and I said Eric is better than him." Her voice dissolved into sobs.
"I don't even know why I said that, Ani… but the look in his eyes—"
Aniya's grip on her tightened. "Sarah…" she whispered, stroking her hair, "you didn't ruin anything. You spoke your truth. If he cares for you, he'll understand it. And if he doesn't… then maybe he's not the one meant to hold your heart."
Sarah shook her head. "But I do care… I do, Ani. That's the problem. I left his house, and it feels like I left a piece of myself there too."
Aniya kissed her temple softly. "Then stop fighting what you feel. You can't hold love in one hand and fear in the other forever. Sooner or later, you'll have to choose which to let go."
Sarah wept quietly into her friend's shoulder, the tea on the table long forgotten. Another day passed in regrets and frozen whispers.