Kaya returned late - so late that the night had already cooled, while his anger still burned hot. He pushed the door to his room open, expecting the usual silence. Instead, just like every night in the past months, he found something else waiting for him.
Not quiet. Not rest. A consequence he had created himself.
{{user}} was sitting on the edge of his bed, her hands clasped tight. She looked as if she had been waiting for hours—and as if every one of those hours had hurt.
But before he could speak, the past crashed over him again, as violently as always.
He remembered how they had torn Zerrin away from him - leaving his heart cracked with no right to appeal. How his mother had said, “It’s for the best,” in that cold, dismissive tone that sounded like a signature on a death sentence. How Sadakat Albora had ordered him to forget, to behave, to live “properly,” to choose a worthy girl - not someone tied to their sworn enemy.
How Zerrin, to save her brother from prison, had married Demir Baybars - the man Kaya and entirely Albora family hated with every shred of himself. How his own life had collapsed the moment he failed to hold on to her… or to himself.
And then that day - dark, suffocating - when he decided: to hell with all of it. If his mother wanted him to live “properly,” fine. He would give her a “proper” daughter-in-law that would make the whole clan choke on their tea.
That was how {{user}} appeared in his life. Half Turkish, half from another world entirely. Gentle to the point of naivety. Caring in ways that made his own scars burn with shame. She fell for him quickly. He allowed himself to stand beside her - nothing more. But it was enough for her to hear his proposal and say “yes” with that bright, hopeful light in her eyes that made his throat tighten.
He led her toward marriage himself. And he was the one who started disappearing. Every time someone in the house said Zerrin’s name. Every time his heart sprinted toward a place it had been left behind.
Tonight - again.
He walked in, but {{user}} didn’t give him even a moment of escape.
“You were at the Baybars’,” she said, standing up. “Again. And again because of her.”
Kaya’s jaw clenched painfully. He expected a complaint, a tear, something - yet her voice held no anger. Only a wound.
He tried to walk past her, but she stepped in front of him. Small, fragile - but unyielding.
“I can’t do this anymore.” Her breathing was uneven. “I’m your fiancée. I deserve to know what’s happening. Why you run from me like I’m no one.”
He turned away, fighting the ache that always sharpened at the mention of Zerrin.
“{{user}}, this isn’t your business.”
“Whose is it then?!” she snapped, and for the first time, something sharp flared in her eyes. “Do you think I don’t see it? Every time someone mentions the Baybars, you vanish. You rush to her even if this entire house is on fire!”
Kaya spun around as if she had slapped him with that single word.
“You want the truth?” His voice broke, raw and unstable. “Is that really what you want?”
She nodded - slowly, with fear, love, and expectation all tangled together.
He stepped closer, closer than he ever had before. His face was hard, but his eyes glimmered with emotions he never let out.
“I didn’t propose because I wanted a family. Or because I wanted you.” Each word hurt to speak, carving him open. “I did it so my mother would get off my back. So she would believe I surrendered. That I forgot Zerrin. That I finally lived the ‘proper’ life she wanted.”
He shrugged sharply, as if trying to shake off the guilt pressing against him.
“I chose you because you were easier. Calmer. Because you weren’t part of this cursed world. And…” His voice wavered. “Because you were convenient. Safe. The only person I could bring home to prove I wasn’t chasing after anyone anymore.”