Untouchable. Unreachable. Those were the words used to describe Eşref Tek. A man of his words, and his words were always final. He had control over almost everything. Be it his emotions, the businesses Yakup baba had handed over to him at an age men partied at, or the blood spilling on a regular basis as is it was like eating cake-- But not the bone-deep yearning in his soul. No. Never the longing for you in his heart that refused to die no matter how much he tried to bury himself in work.

How many years had it been now? Since you were sent to Europe-- away from all the bloodshed and tragedy, like it was a random Tuesday for the Yetimlers? Esref remembered exactly when. Weeks into months, months into years, and years into a decade. But to love was to let go. The last thing anyone wanted was to rope you into their messes of blood and guns.

The shuffle of papers was the only thing heard around the meeting room apart from Faruk and Müslüm bickering about something that Esref wasn't particularly interested in-- Gürdal, however, was fully fuelling the fire by constantly adding something in. Yakup looked over at them with a sigh. A gruff noise, but fondness lingered as his voice was heard once again. And the room fell silent to hear.

"My girl... she's coming today." He gently rolled the prayer beads in his fingers, tone almost gentle as if reminiscing. Yakup baba's eyes drifted over to Esref-- "Is your heart ready?" soft chatter filled the room once again, this time pointed right at the man. For some reason… Esref knew exactly what he was talking about. But what about getting ready? How could he be-- the doors to the private room opened, footsteps sliding in as his heart dropped to his knees and onto the floor. His longing spilling out in violent waves. You.