The last day in Cappadocia, after breakfast, they were sitting in the lobby.
"Okay, so I have a plan. As we all have been here so many times, today we'll go to places or do things we want and collect something from there. No more group tours," Abdullah announced.
"I'll take jewels," Aniya said.
"I'll wander around the valley for photographs," Eric added.
"Carpet shops," Tayyep smirked.
"Pottery ," Sarah said excitedly.
"Caves," Abdullah chose.
Everyone looked at Mehmet.
"I'll think," he said calmly.
They all left for their respective destinations.
Sarah reached Avanos, the town where clay had been shaped for centuries. The smell of earth and river water filled the workshops. She felt someone behind her and turned to find Mehmet standing there, hands in his pockets, expression calm.
"What are you doing here?" Sarah asked, surprised.
"Maybe following," he smirked.
"I've been here two times. It's not new to me. I'll be fine without you," she said, feeling his intention was her safety.
"I know you're very brave and I understand you need space, but let me sit here at the workshop, and after the pottery, I'll wait for you here so you can wander around freely," he explained.
She was stunned for a moment by his thoughtfulness, he didn't want her to feel suffocated but wanted her safe. They walked into a workshop where the master guided her through the pottery, and Mehmet sat behind her.
She wanted to tie her hair but she didn't carry a scrunchie or hair clip with her. Mehmet noticed and from his pocket he fetched a white scrunchie which was Sarah's. He handed her scrunchie and Sarah looked at him in surprise.
Later she struggled, laughing as the shape of her pot was uneven. When the guide leaned in to teach her, Mehmet stopped him. He leaned close, placing a hand on the table and the other near the pot—caging her subtly without touching, his warmth and breath grazing her ear, making her distracted.
"Look, wrist like this. Let your hands follow mine," he said, chin brushing her ear slightly. Sarah flinched a little as his hands guided hers.
"It's still uneven," Sarah laughed slowly at her pot. Mehmet wiped her cheek with a handkerchief, and she felt his warm fingers.
"I'll do this," he said, trying to make the pot better. Then they both cleaned their hands.
"I tried pottery for the first time," she smiled, showing him her imperfect creation.
"I could tell," he smirked. Sarah frowned.
"Are you sure, sir? You want to buy this?" the workshop man asked, looking at the pot.
Mehmet nodded.
"No… Mehmet, why are you buying it?" Sarah shook her head.
"It's imperfect and ordinary," she added.
"You made this, and nothing can be more perfect and precious than this. Your hands made it priceless," Mehmet said, calmly meeting her eyes.
"You're impossible," Sarah replied, hiding a blush.
"Not for you," he tilted his head and smiled.
They left the workshop together, Mehmet carrying a package with Sarah's pot.
"I'll wait for you here. Be right back," Mehmet leaned on a wall.
"You'll really stay here?" Sarah asked playfully.
"If you want… I know you don't like being watched, and I don't want to suffocate you," he simply replied.
"Huh, I'm so openhearted. You can come with me, but remember… I often like to be alone somewhere. Since I've been here before, you can join me," Mehmet smiled.
"Teşekkür, Miss Sarah," he lowered his head to hide his smile.
She stopped at a local store and picked a ceramic wall plate.
"Isn't it charming? People are so talented here," Sarah smiled.
Later, as she was paying, Mehmet did it.
"I have to pay for it, Mehmet," she protested.
"No, you don't have to.," he said calmly.
"You want to wander more?" he asked, and Sarah shook her head, still angry that he paid.
"Still holding grudges?" he teased while walking with her.
"I don't," she said in a low voice.
"Keep this," he gave her an evil eye charm.
"Ahaan, I already have this. Aniya gave me one," she slightly smiled.
"You need one more," he shrugged.
They bought roasted peanuts and walked through the busy market.
"Where were you planning to go when Abdullah announced this split game?" Sarah asked randomly.
"Wherever you go," he replied simply.
Sarah got a call from her baba.
"Lemme talk to him," she excused herself, going to a corner.
After greetings, her baba asked, "When will you come over?"
"Almost two more months till my graduation," she replied.
"Someone came to us asking for your hand. We think it's a nice match for you. Come to Pakistan, and we'll do whatever you decide—yes or no," her baba said.
Her mum joined the call. "He's a nice guy. You can meet him when you come here. But if you like someone else, you can tell us."
"Okay, ama we'll discuss it when I'm at home. I'll talk to you later; I'm out in the market," she said, trying to compose herself.
She hung up and looked at Mehmet, trying to hide her expressions.
"Everything is fine?" he asked.
"Yes," she forced a smile.
"Tell me whenever you want," he said politely.
"How'd you know there was something?" she asked, eating a peanut.
"Your eyes told me. They speak to me," he replied calmly.
"You're dramatic, Mehmet," she laughed softly.
"When will we leave tomorrow?" Sarah asked.
"After breakfast," he replied, observing the market.
Sarah's eyes stopped at a beauty stall. She saw some natural kohl but didn't want to buy anything—she knew Mehmet would pay.
"Come this way," he instructed.
"Is it a shortcut?" she asked, following him.
They stopped at the stall.
"I don't want anything from here," she said, hiding her expression.
"They have natural things like lip balms, kohl," he explained.
"I don't want lip balms or lipsticks," she said, buying only a kohl and a handcrafted mirror quickly, so Mehmet wouldn't get a chance. He smiled at her quickness.
"You don't like lipsticks?" he asked.
"No," she lied.
"Most girls like it, so I thought," Mehmet said randomly.
"You have experience with it," she teased.
"Maybe," he teased back.
"What?" Sarah looked at him as he gazed at her constantly.
He handed her a Ross lip balm.
"I don't know if it's good for your skin, but you wanted it. In Istanbul, we can buy more from a known brand," he said, catching her eyes slightly.
"I… I don't know if it will suit me, that's why I didn't buy it," she said in a low, shaky voice.
"That's what I'm saying. We'll look for a known brand in Istanbul. For now, you wanted this," he smiled.
"No, I didn't mean it won't suit my skin, I meant it won't look good on me. This shade," she said, looking at the lipstick in his hand.
"Everything looks good on you," he shrugged. Sarah laughed softly.
"I watch girls with perfect makeup. They look breathtaking. I don't even know which shade suits me. I tried some, but it didn't look good, so I stopped buying them," Sarah admitted with a faint smile.
Mehmet looked at her for a long moment.
"Because you're naturally perfect," he handed her the lipstick.
Sarah flushed into laughter.
"That's not an excuse. Every girl is naturally perfect," she shrugged.
She opened the lipstick—it was a warm mocha with a hint of rose—and applied it carefully without a mirror.
"Look, is it looking good?" she asked, facing Mehmet.
"I'll tell you some other day," he shifted his gaze, trying not to stare.
" I told you it won't look good on me," Sarah frowned.
"It's looking perfect," he sighed.
"You're lying," she replied.
"I swear, it's perfect. You're perfect," he looked at her again.
"I'll tell you in detail some other day," he added. Sarah sensed meaning in his tone but didn't dare to think.
They were walking through the narrow streets of Cappadocia, the soft lantern lights glowing against the stone walls. Sarah's eyes caught the gleam of Mehmet's wrist—an elegant watch, not flashy, but carrying that quiet aura. For a moment, her breath stilled.
"You're staring," Mehmet noticed, his tone playful.
"I… your watch. I've seen this somewhere, Mehmet," Sarah managed under her breath.
"Many people have this watch, Sarah," Mehmet said softly, but a hidden smile ghosted his lips.
Her mind darted back, unbidden—to Taiwan. That split second of chaos, the gunshot, the man who stepped to shield her and took a bullet. She never saw his face clearly. Just a glimpse of his hand, his wrist, and above all—his eyes.
"Not just the watch… your eyes. I never saw that man's face clearly, but I remember his wrist, the watch… and his eyes. That was you, Mehmet.", Sarah's voice trembled as the pieces connected.
Mehmet didn't reply, but his gaze on Sarah's face told her more than words could.
"Why did you take a bullet for someone you didn't even know? That was the first time you saw me, wasn't it?" Sarah stopped walking, turning to him.
"Mehmet… you could have died. Why?" Her heart faltered at her own words.
"Some people are worth dying for, even when you don't know them," Mehmet said deliberately, as if that bullet had meant nothing to him.
They started walking again.
"How's your wound now? Where did the bullet hit?" Sarah asked carefully.
He chuckled softly. "That was four years ago, Sarah. You're speaking as if it's still bleeding."
Her chest tightened at his ease, the way he brushed it off so simply.
"Four years. He carried that wound, and yet he treats it like it was nothing. Like saving me wasn't even a choice—it was instinct."
"Mehmet… thank you for saving me when you didn't even know me," Sarah whispered.
Mehmet smiled, a soft, almost imperceptible smile.
"I won't think twice to take a bullet again for your safety, Sarah," he said quietly.
Sarah's breath caught, surprise and awe rising in her chest.
What kind of man says that as if it's the simplest truth in the world?
"We should go now" , Sarah said, catching her breath and Mehmet nodded.
________________________________________
Past
The Taipei antique market breathed like a living thing — lanterns swinging overhead, voices haggling, the scent of roasted chestnuts and incense mingling in the humid air.
Sarah lingered at a small stall, her fingers brushing over a fan painted with delicate cranes flying over misted mountains. Her eyes softened; she didn't belong to the rush of the crowd, she belonged to stillness, to beauty.
Across the way, Mehmet noticed. Not her face fully, not her name, nothing but the quiet way she admired the fan as if it were worth more than the whole market. He turned away — business waited — yet something made him pause.
Minutes later, Sarah slipped into a narrow alley, clutching her bag and the wrapped fan. That's when three men stepped out, their tones sharp, bodies crowding her against the wall.
"Bag. Now."
She shook her head, her voice unsteady but firm. "No."
One of them yanked at her wrist. She shoved back, startling them. The struggle escalated, rough, desperate. Then came the click of a gun being cocked.
Sarah froze.
And Mehmet appeared. A tall figure in a dark coat, his eyes sharp, his presence cutting through the alley like a blade.
"Leave," he said, voice low and dangerous.
The gun lifted, laughter echoing. A flash.
The bullet tore through Mehmet's shoulder. The impact knocked him back hard into the wall, his hand clamping over the wound as his breath caught. Sarah gasped, panic breaking free in her throat.
The men lunged again, but Mehmet pushed forward, shielding Sarah with his own body even as blood soaked through his sleeve. His movements were slowed now, heavier, but still precise — he struck one aside, barely holding ground.
"Boss!" A shout ripped down the alley. One of his guards came running, another close behind. The moment shifted. The attackers faltered, realizing they weren't facing one man anymore but an empire's shadow.
The guards moved fast, disarming, scattering the thugs into the night with brutal efficiency.
Mehmet slid down to sit against the wall, his breath sharp, his jaw clenched. Blood trickled through his fingers, staining the cobblestones. Sarah stood frozen, trembling, her fan pressed tight against her chest. She hadn't even seen his full face — only the watch glinting on his wrist as he tried to stem the bleeding, and those eyes. Dark, unwavering, even in pain.
"Are… are you okay?" she whispered, voice breaking.
Mehmet's gaze flicked to her, steady despite the pallor setting into his skin. "You're safe now," he rasped. "That's all that matters."
Before she could say more, his guards lifted him carefully, voices sharp with urgency. Sarah was left standing in the alley, her hands shaking, her heart burned with an image she would never forget: a stranger bleeding for her, protecting her, disappearing into the night with nothing but his watch and his eyes engraved in her memory.
________________________________________
Present
They were on their way back to the hotel when Mehmet stopped at a jeweler.
"Mehmet Bey, it's ready," the jeweler greeted warmly. Mehmet nodded and spoke in Turkish.
The jeweler opened a small box, revealing a delicate pendant. It was a crescent moon, crafted from warm gold. Fine swirling patterns were etched along its surface, and tiny amber inlays glimmered softly, catching the light with every movement. Subtle yet striking, it felt special without being flashy.
"Is it looking good?" Mehmet asked her.
"Yes, it feels like it's radiating something," she smiled.
As Mehmet fetched the cheque, the jeweler noticed something in his wallet. He saw a picture of a girl smiling softly, hair wavy, eyes twinkling. Flipping to the other side, there was another picture of the same girl in a hot air balloon, her expression gentle and joyful. Pictures were of the girl who's standing beside Mehmet bey, Sarah. The jeweler's lips curved into a small, knowing smile.
"Nice to have you, Mehmet Bey," the jeweler said, bowing slightly to Sarah.
Mehmet returned, handing her the pendant.
"It's for you," he said.
"What? Why?" she exclaimed.
"Anne ordered it. I didn't," he shrugged with a soft smile.
"Then I'll take it from Anne, not from you," she smirked.
"Okay, meet her when we're back in Istanbul," he said, smirking back.
"Okay, Mehmet Bey," Sarah laughed.
"Anne is sweet," she whispered.
"Just Anne?" he asked.
"Yes. Just Anne," she teased.
"Why does it feel like everything is pointing toward something I can't admit yet?" Sarah thought.
They reached the hotel and found everyone waiting with their collected items.
"Next time, we'll do lanterns too," Eric said, and everyone agreed.
"Mehmet Bey? You didn't have anything?" Abdullah asked, everyone looking at him, including Sarah.
"I have the one I wanted," he said in a deep tone. Everyone smiled, unaware of the meaning, but Sarah felt it stir something in her stomach.
The group still lingered in the courtyard, warmth of tea and laughter wrapping around them like the soft night air. Sarah smiled at Aniya's jokes, at Eric's details on the valleys, at Abdullah and Tayyep's silly debate, but her mind kept drifting back to her baba's voice earlier:
"Someone came to us asking for your hand. It's a nice match. We'll wait for your answer when you come home."
The words looped inside her like a song she didn't want to hear.
Slipping away from the group, she stood under a swinging lantern by the stone wall, arms wrapped around herself. Cappadocia felt magical, but her heart wasn't steady, it was caught somewhere between the warmth of tonight and the weight of tomorrow.
"Why aren't you sitting with them?" Mehmet's voice came quietly from behind.
She turned, startled, but his tone wasn't sharp, it was gentle.
"I am… I just needed some air."
"Or maybe," he said, stepping closer, "you're carrying something you don't want to share yet."
Her breath caught. His words always landed too close. She looked away. "It's nothing. Just… family things."
He studied her face for a long moment but didn't press. "Then I'll wait," he said simply and meaningfully.
For a moment, silence stretched between them, the kind that carried more meaning than conversation. Sarah thought of her parents' words, of the stranger waiting in Pakistan, and of the man in front of her who noticed every shift in her breath, who saved her 4 years ago.
"I… I looked for you in Taiwan, but I never found you. I wanted to thank you… and at least see you, but…"
Mehmet leaned casually against the wall behind her, a faint smirk playing on his lips.
"I didn't want you to see me like that. I never wanted your thanks. But I'm glad you looked for me… and maybe you've always been a fan of my eyes—or my wristwatch."
Sarah let out a soft laugh, the sound carrying in the quiet night. "You're impossible, Mehmet."
"Not for you, Miss Sarah," he replied, his smile deepening, a subtle glint of mischief in his gaze.
Sarah exhaled slowly, watching him without realizing it. He always manages to make something heavy feel light.
"How can someone who once saved your life make you feel this… safe, even years later?"
"You should sleep," Mehmet said finally, his voice softer than the lantern glow.
She nodded, almost whispering, "Goodnight."
Their eyes lingered one moment longer than necessary before she slipped back inside. The night didn't give her all answers, but it reminded her of one thing: Choices were waiting, and so was he.