From the Author
Furkan opened his eyes with more hope that morning. He had made his final decision: he was going to talk to Merve. Just thinking her name brought a slight curve to his lips, but the smile was no more than a bittersweet expression. The state he found himself in weighed heavily on him. Rising from bed, he went to the bathroom, performed his ablutions, and then moved on to breakfast. As always, his mother had outdone herself. He kissed her on the cheek and sat down at the table.
The memory of the day he had seen Merve sitting there came to mind. He had always dreamed of that moment. Even the flowers he planted were grown with the hope that she would see them someday. Although he hadn't imagined this kind of encounter in his dreams, no one could predict the path destiny had charted for them. He couldn't help but think how perfectly she had fit into this home.
"My son?" Furkan didn't hear his mother calling him. It wasn't until she nudged him that he snapped out of his thoughts.
"Did you say something, my queen?" Zehra Hanım examined her son with curious eyes.
"What's with you today, son? I've been calling you for ages."
Clearing his throat, Furkan straightened up in his chair.
"Sorry, Mom. I zoned out. What were you saying?"
Zehra Hanım could clearly see that something was bothering him.
"Rümeysa…" Furkan, sensing where the conversation was headed, interrupted her.
"Mom, I met with her because you wanted me to, but it didn't work out. I told her clearly that it wasn't going to happen. I don't want to upset you, but I also can't marry someone I don't want to just to make you happy."
Though her face fell, Zehra Hanım realized there was no point in insisting.
"Alright, son. It's your choice. I just wish that before I…"
Furkan cut her off sharply. Normally, he wasn't one to interrupt people, but the topic of death was something he couldn't bear.
"Mom, what are you saying? May God grant you a long life. Come on, eat your breakfast. Don't talk about such grim things in the morning. I'm already running late for work."
Zehra Hanım shrugged, though his lack of seriousness about marriage continued to bother her.
"Oh, son! What does it matter if you're late to your own shop? It's not like people will stop coming to buy books if you're an hour late."
Furkan shot her a playful glance, reached out, and caressed her face.
"Zehra Sultan, are you underestimating my bookstore?"
After finishing a breakfast full of laughter and conversation, Furkan left the house and got into his car.
Meanwhile, Büşra changed her clothes and headed home. Melike, after saying goodbye, caught a taxi. There was no one at Büşra's house, and fortunately, she had managed to get through the day without running into her father. She went up to her room and lay down, closing her eyes and letting her thoughts drift. She felt deeply sorry for Merve. What had happened on that street was terrifying. The image of the burning car flashed in her mind, causing her to squeeze her eyes shut in pain. All she could think about was Merve. After everything, she had shut herself off from the world, making no effort to continue living her life.
Büşra understood her friend's feelings but believed that Merve needed to move on and live her life to the fullest. Merve had always been there for her, and now Büşra wanted to do the same. She thought she knew what to do. Grabbing her phone, she opened Instagram and searched for Furkan Solmaz. A list of profiles appeared. Which one was his? She scrolled through each until a profile picture caught her eye—a book on a table, next to a coffee cup, with a bird feather casually resting on the book. She clicked on it. Thankfully, the account wasn't private. She quickly recognized him. One of his photos showed him in a garden, kneeling while tending to flowers, smiling at the person taking the picture. There was no doubt—it was him. Without hesitation, she sent him a message.
From: Büşra Duman
Can we talk if you're available?
She waited anxiously.
Furkan entered his bookstore. He loved this place and the books within it. A long corridor stretched out before him, lined with shelves that didn't exceed his height. In one corner was a cozy area with colorful cushions, tables, and chairs, where people could enjoy drinks while reading, all with a view of the sea.
"Welcome, Furkan Abi," greeted Samet. Furkan turned his bright eyes to his apprentice.
"Thanks, Samet."
Samet was only 13, a small, skinny boy with a quick mind. His love for books had driven him to work here.
"How's it going?" Furkan asked.
Samet tucked a dust cloth into his belt and gave a thumbs-up.
"Perfect! Everything's spotless."
Just then, Furkan's phone chimed. He picked it up and opened the notification.
From: Büşra Duman
Can we talk if you're available?
Who was this? He checked her profile. It was private. He dismissed it and put his phone back in his pocket. Moments later, another notification arrived.
From: Büşra Duman
I really need to talk to you. I'm Merve Yılmaz's friend. It's about her. Please!
Furkan usually took his time to think before deciding, but the mention of Merve's name made his mind go blank.
To: Büşra Duman
What do you want to talk about?
He began pacing the store, waiting to hear what she had to say.
From: Büşra Duman
Not here. We need to meet. Please come to the cemetery on Şahmeran Street. Don't ask why there. Just come. I'll be waiting for you. Please hurry!
Büşra was considering inviting Merve to the meeting place, but since she couldn't reach her, she thought it would be best to go to her instead. Maybe seeing her there would lift her spirits. Every time Merve visited her parents' graves, she would feel terrible. Leaving the house, Büşra got into a taxi.
For the first time in his life, Furkan was acting without thinking. He simply wanted to go there, with no reason or explanation—he just wanted to.
"Samet, I have something to do. I'm heading out. You're in charge here," he said, trying not to let his nerves get the better of him. Along with the excitement, a sense of unease was creeping in.
"Okay, brother. May God protect you."
"And you."
He got into his car and drove straight to the cemetery. Fate seemed to be weaving its intricate threads. He remembered the first day he saw her in the bookstore—how nervous she had seemed. With her eyes sparkling among the books, she moved with such grace. His heart was racing, just as it was now. Then, dark memories flashed through his mind: what had happened to his father, the way he pieced it all together, and most painfully, how it had been too late. Was everything he had endured fair?
Anger consumed him so much that he only realized he was gripping the steering wheel too tightly when his knuckles began to ache. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he focused on Merve again. A smile crept back onto his face. He couldn't tell himself this wasn't how it should be, because it was exactly how he wanted it to be. Thinking of her made him forget all his troubles, and his smile lingered because of it. He knew it wasn't right, of course. That's why he wanted everything to happen as soon as possible.
He hadn't even realized how quickly he had arrived until he pulled over and got out of the car. Across the way, a girl was waiting. He glanced at her briefly, then quickly lowered his eyes to the ground and walked toward her.
"Are you Büşra Duman?" he asked.
Büşra chuckled lightly.
"Yes, but we don't have to talk so formally, do we?"
Without looking at her, Furkan replied, "Why did you call me to a cemetery?"
Understanding that he wanted her to get to the point, Büşra didn't prolong the conversation.
"Come with me," she said, walking toward the graves. Turning back, she saw Furkan standing still, just looking at her.
"Come on, what are you waiting for?"
Furkan walked without responding, trying to figure out what she was up to. Letting go of control wasn't his style, but when it came to Merve, he always made exceptions.
After walking a short distance, they began to hear voices. A man was shouting, and a girl was crying.
"Be quiet! I said stop crying!"
"Why? Tell me why!"
When Büşra realized who it was, she was horrified.
"That's Merve!"
Without hesitation, both of them began running. When they reached the spot where Merve was, they were met with a grim scene. A man was pointing a gun at Merve. Büşra knew exactly who this man was. As for Furkan, seeing the girl he loved so helpless shattered him.
When they heard the sound of footsteps, both Merve and her grandfather turned their eyes toward them.