For nights Lina had been haunted by the same dream. She was holding Emir's hands, the two of them running together through a dark alley. His eyes burned with the light of freedom, their hearts beating furiously. But then suddenly, Murat appeared under a flood of blinding light, his cold gaze pressing down on them like iron. Emir's hands slipped away from hers, and Lina was left alone in the shadows. Each time she woke drenched in sweat, her heart shattering all over again.
By day, the nightmare's shadow followed her. At home, at the table, in the car—she felt Murat's eyes on her every moment. He didn't say much, but Lina thought he already knew. Sometimes he'd glance at her and murmur, "You've been distracted." That single sentence pierced her like a blade.
One evening, Emir called. His voice shook with anger and desperation:
— "Lina, I can't go on like this. I want you every day, in the open. I don't want to hide anymore. Either be with me, or let me go."
Lina's breath caught, her throat tightened. "Emir… we can't, it's too dangerous…"
— "No!" he cut her off. "The danger is the life you live with Murat. With me, there's no fear—only life. You just have to trust me."
Tears streamed down Lina's face. The raw plea in his voice broke her apart.
That night, she slipped out of the house and took a cab to a small inn on the city's outskirts. Emir was waiting inside, standing in the middle of the room. His eyes were bloodshot from sleepless nights, but the fire within them blazed bright. When he saw her, he rushed forward, clutching her hands tightly.
— "Tomorrow morning we leave," he said, his voice burning with excitement. "We'll catch the train and disappear. A new city, a new life—just you and me."
Lina's breath faltered. Being in his arms felt like a dream. His scent, his warmth, the pounding of his heart—it gave her life. But in her mind, Murat's cold words echoed: "You are my wife." That sentence wrapped around her like chains.
— "What if we fail?" she whispered.
Emir cupped her face, eyes steady on hers. "Love doesn't fail, Lina. But fear does."
The night deepened, silence filling the inn. Emir held her in his arms, and for the first time in years Lina felt peace—mixed with terror. Her heart begged her to stay, but her mind whispered, "What if everything falls apart?"
At dawn, Lina stood by the window. The sky was painted in pink and orange as the first light broke. Emir slept on the bed, his face softened into innocence. Watching him, tears spilled down her cheeks.
She stepped closer, took his hand, and whispered, trembling: "Forgive me." Then she let go. Quietly, she walked to the door, leaving as her heart shattered into pieces.
She returned home in silence. Murat sat at the breakfast table, his newspaper neatly folded, coffee steaming by his side. He looked up at her, saying nothing. But in his eyes Lina caught something unfamiliar—a mixture of suspicion, and the cruel glint of victory.
And in that moment, Lina understood. The love she had shared with Emir had set her soul ablaze, but left nothing behind except ashes. Beneath those ashes stood a woman who no longer recognized herself.
And perhaps the greatest pain was not to burn—
but to become nothing more than ashes.