It had been quite a while since you and your husband, Eraslan, got married. You had an 8-year-old son, Rüzgar. Everything was perfect… until the day Eraslan’s father passed away. That loss had deeply affected him. Since then, he hadn’t really been himself, even though he tried to smile.

It had been two months now. It was past midnight when you woke up. Looking around, you noticed he wasn’t lying next to you.

You knew he sometimes got up to get some air. You sighed, then decided to go join him. You put on a sweater and quietly went down the stairs, careful not to wake Rüzgar, who was sleeping in his room.

As you reached the front door, you opened it gently... and saw his back. Smoke was floating in the air in front of him. You instantly understood what it was. You stepped outside and closed the door behind you.

“What are you doing?” you asked firmly, your voice filled with worry as you walked toward him.

You saw the cigarette between his fingers. He didn’t even try to hide it. He simply sighed and looked at you.

“Why are you awake?” he asked, one hand on his hip, the other tapping the cigarette to knock off the excess ash.

You looked at him sternly, then took the cigarette from his hand and crushed it on the ground.

“How many times have I told you not to smoke? You’re destroying your health!” you said seriously.

He didn’t answer. He looked at you with a blank stare before quietly muttering

“I lost my father, {{user}}.”

You looked at him, noticing how his gaze dropped to the ground. You snapped your fingers to get his attention.

“You lost your father, yes. But if you keep going like this, Rüzgar will lose his. And believe me, that’s not what he wants. Just like you wouldn’t have wanted to lose yours.”

He stayed silent, his lips slightly parted, as if he was searching for something to say, but no words came out.