From the look on his face, it was clear he hadn't expected to see me either. Before saying anything else, I let my worried eyes roam over him, checking if he was okay. There was nothing visible to suggest he'd been hurt.
In fact, considering he was walking around in the middle of winter wearing something barely thicker than a T-shirt, he actually looked healthier than I did.
The others must've heard my startled exclamation too, because they quickly gathered at the door. Seeing their friend safe and sound, they finally seemed to breathe a little easier.
Nil slipped past the guys and hugged him tightly. Kerem shifted his gaze from me to Nil, smiled, and wrapped his arms around her. After that, the boys joined in as well. Maybe they found hugging too emotional, because they chose to express the same relief with rougher, more masculine gestures.
That was when I noticed the brief flash of pain crossing Kerem's face as Demir punched his shoulder. It was suspicious, but fearing the kind of unpleasant answer I might get if I asked, I bit my tongue.
Since no one else seemed to notice, they probably chalked it up to Demir's lack of restraint.
Maybe I was just overthinking it.
He looked perfectly fine as he listened to his friends complain in his usual relaxed, cheerful way.
Until his eyes met mine again.
"What is she doing here?"
He asked the others irritably, without even looking at me. My nerves snapped, and before anyone else could respond, I answered myself.
"Your friends thought something might've happened to you and wanted to know if I had any information. Since you're clearly alive and well, I'm leaving. Don't worry."
When he finally looked me in the eye and said, flatly, "That would be best," I hesitated for a second, then decided responding would be pointless and turned away.
He was still acting like he was the one in the right.
I clenched my teeth in anger.
As I grabbed my coat and bag from the living room, they were still standing by the door, and I could hear their conversation clearly.
"What's wrong with you? She was worried about you just like the rest of us. She doesn't deserve this," Nil snapped.
There was no reply.
Then Rüzgar spoke.
"This isn't Duru's fault. I'm the one who brought her here."
I slipped my coat on and headed back to the entryway. When I caught the furious look Kerem shot at Rüzgar, I was dangerously close to saying something I'd regret.
Keeping myself calm was getting harder by the second. I needed to leave before things got any uglier.
I walked quickly toward the front door. As I passed them, I offered everyone a polite smile, everyone except Kerem. Just as I reached the door and wrapped my hand around the handle, someone grabbed my shoulder.
"I'll drive you home, Sugarflake."
"No need, Bora. I can go by myself."
"With this many guys around who can take you home, it's unnecessary for you to walk alone in the middle of the night," Demir said before I could object.
Nil jumped in immediately.
"Demir's right. It's dangerous at this hour. I'd worry."
Faced with her sincere concern, I sighed and smiled faintly.
"Alright."
While I said my goodbyes, Kerem turned away without a word and went back inside. The brief looks of surprise on the others' faces didn't escape me.
They clearly weren't used to seeing him act like this.
But considering everything they believed about our so-called relationship had been a complete lie, maybe their confusion made sense. After all, they—not I—knew how he treated the girls he was actually dating.
As I left the house, I reminded myself that none of this concerned me anymore and pulled my hood over my head.
The messes he caused, the lies he told, those were problems for Kerem and his friends to deal with now.
Following Bora's lead, we quickened our pace toward his car, parked on the side street next to the house. Once I got in, I wiped the tears forming in my eyes from the harsh wind and tucked my hands between my thighs. In the barely two minutes it took to get from the house to the car, the freezing air had seeped straight into my bones despite my thick clothes.
Bora must've noticed, because the moment he started the car, he cranked the heater up to the highest setting.
As the warm air slowly thawed me out, I let out a deep sigh and turned my gaze to the window. I was going through another post-Kerem stress spiral. My mood, which had improved during the fun time I'd spent with the girls, had slipped right back into its old depressive state.
I wanted to be mad at Rüzgar for dragging me there, but I couldn't deny that my own curiosity was the real problem. Once our conversation was over, I could've left. But I'd stubbornly stayed, waiting to find out whether that Hotshot was okay.
If he'd at least done something worth all this stress—like explaining where he'd been during the time no one could reach him—I wouldn't have minded as much. But instead, he'd skillfully dodged his friends' questions before anyone turned their attention to me.
Which meant where he'd been and what he'd been doing remained a complete mystery.
When Bora nudged my arm, I turned my eyes from the window to him.
"I called your name like five times. Are you okay?"
"Sorry. I was thinking about my remaining exams and zoned out," I said weakly. "What were you saying?"
He studied me for a couple of seconds, like he was weighing whether I meant it, then looked back at the road.
"Don't you think this ride is way too quiet, Sugarflake?"
As soon as he said that, calm but cheerful music filled the car, and he started singing along casually.
It wasn't the reaction I'd expected, but I was grateful he chose to let it go instead of digging deeper. I had no idea how I'd explain the situation to Kerem's friend when I couldn't even explain it to my own.
Watching him enjoy the music with a small smile—and maybe a little envy—I raised my brows when he suddenly turned toward me. I braced myself for something serious, but instead, he started dramatically lip-syncing the lyrics with an exaggerated expression.
My surprise melted into quiet laughter.
It was honestly impressive how a grown man could be this effortlessly cute.
Between the gentle rhythm of the music and the playful faces Bora kept making as he glanced my way, the effect didn't take long. Without even realizing it, I found myself sharing in his childlike happiness.
Once again, the difference between him and his close friends stood out. While the other three were stiff and distant, Bora was warm and genuine. His goofy, fun side didn't match the rest of the group at all.
And yet, without him, there was no doubt in my mind that the gloomy atmosphere created—especially by Kerem and Rüzgar—would've become unbearable.
After the long, exhausting, and stressful hours since I'd left home to work on my assignment, I finally made it back inside. I hung my coat up and dragged myself toward the bedroom.
I should've been home much earlier, but Bora had deliberately taken the longest possible route, doubling our travel time. I understood his well-meaning attempt to lift my spirits, and he was kind enough not to point it out himself. So we'd simply enjoyed the quiet companionship and the night view in silence.
Who knew—maybe he'd needed that unplanned drive just as much as I did.
People rarely asked what cheerful, light-hearted souls were carrying inside.
As I stripped off my clothes and reached for the pajamas folded at the foot of my bed, my eyes landed on my laptop sitting in my bag on the armchair. Remembering that my assignment still needed editing, I let out an unhappy groan.
Choosing an assignment over an exam had officially climbed to the top of my worst decisions list.
After changing, I went to the kitchen to make strong coffee—hoping it would at least keep me alive until I finished the work. While waiting for the water to boil, my half-closed eyes drifted to the kitchen window. Noticing only the sheer curtain was drawn, I stepped closer to close the heavier one too. I'd always hated having the lights on at night with the curtains open.
Just as I reached out, I noticed a man standing on the sidewalk across the street.
His hood covered his face, but it felt like he was looking straight at me.
I jumped when a sound came from behind me and spun around, heart racing—only to realize it was the kettle signaling the water was ready. I exhaled and relaxed my shoulders.
When I turned back to the window, the sidewalk was empty.
Whoever—or whatever—I thought I'd seen was gone.
Shrugging it off, I closed the curtain and went back to making my coffee.
Paranoia had officially become part of my daily routine.