Since I didn't expect to see Furkan in front of me, I watched him with my mouth slightly open. I could swear his eyes sparkled as they locked onto mine without looking away for a second. I had never looked into his pitch-black eyes for so long before, and looking into someone's eyes had never felt so meaningful. As a smile spread across my face, I saw the corners of his lips curl upward simultaneously. He blinked slowly, almost gratefully—what was he thanking me for? Even though I felt my cheeks flush, I couldn't avert my gaze.
"I'll go check on the doctor," Büşra's voice broke our eye contact. We both turned toward her, watching her leave through the door. After that, we couldn't bring ourselves to look at each other again. Was there even a way to describe the excitement I was feeling? I didn't think so. When someone experiences this kind of emotion for the first time, they act like a fool—awkward, clueless, like a small child. They don't understand what they're doing or why. But when they finally learn the name of the feelings inside them, they feel relieved. They finally know this emotion, and I… I knew exactly what it meant to love Furkan, down to my very core.
I couldn't deny that I loved Emre first, but I had been so blind back then. For someone who didn't understand these emotions, I had acted so irrationally. They were feelings completely foreign to me.
Imagine giving a child candy for the first time. The child doesn't even know what it is but gets excited, struggles to open the wrapper, and hides it from everyone, afraid someone might take it away. Then, finding a quiet corner, they finally unwrap it. The smell excites them even more. But when they put the candy in their mouth, a sharp piece cuts their tongue. The excitement turns to pain, and the taste of blood fills their mouth, leaving them instantly regretful. Eventually, they realize the candy was a trick, something to distract them, and they throw it to the ground in anger. The child hates the candy and the person who gave it to them. Yet, as children do, they don't swear off candy forever. Instead, they savor their next candy even more because now they understand what it is and how to enjoy it.
That's exactly how I felt now. I knew what this emotion was and who it belonged to. But it wasn't me who decided that—it was my heart. My heart had chosen Furkan without asking anyone's opinion, opening its doors fully to him.
As I wrestled with my emotions, I noticed Furkan was still standing there. Time seemed to have stopped. Feeling self-conscious about sprawling across the bed, I pressed my hands against the mattress to sit up. A sharp pain in my abdomen made me let out a strained groan. Furkan immediately moved toward me as if to hold my arm but then hesitated. Or maybe I just imagined it.
"Are you okay?"
The concern in his voice was unmistakable. As he stared at me, I realized he was waiting for an answer. My inner voice mocked me, urging me to respond, but my tongue felt tied. Realizing I wouldn't speak, he continued.
"Sorry. I didn't mean to disturb you."
Oh no! He had misunderstood.
"No… ah!" The more I panicked, the more it hurt.
"You're not okay. Should I call the doctor?"
Don't get your hopes up, Merve! And stop wondering why he's looking into your eyes like that. To prevent him from worrying further, I knew I had to answer.
"No need!"
My voice came out harsher than I intended, even surprising myself. Why was I angry? Because he averted his gaze? Unlike those who say, "Let time take care of it," I believed you had to take action yourself. Thinking this, I decided there was no point in prolonging the moment. It was better to get the answers to the questions swirling in my mind.
"What were you doing at the cemetery?"
He didn't seem to understand me at first, but then he looked at me. Did I say he looked at me? If my eyes weren't glued to him, I wouldn't have noticed the fleeting glance that lasted less than a second. But why wasn't he speaking?
"If you don't want to answer, I understand. It's just… some things have been bothering me." I was about to continue when he interrupted me.
"Büşra called me."
What? How? I looked at him, confused, as he elaborated.
"She said we needed to meet, that she wanted to talk about you. When I agreed, she gave the cemetery as the address. I was curious why she chose that place, but…"
He trailed off. Why? What did Büşra want to discuss about me, and why had she called him to the cemetery? I wanted him to continue; his silence wasn't helping.
"Yes?"
He swallowed lightly and opened his mouth to speak.
"Then I went to the cemetery. Büşra was waiting for me at the gate. While we were talking, we started hearing noises. When we heard your voice, we ran toward it."
Now we were getting to the part I was most curious about. I needed to know if the last words I remembered hearing were real or a figment of my imagination.
"I don't remember!"
He looked into my eyes again. It was clear he couldn't help but let his gaze fall on my face, yet he would immediately look away after a brief second.
"I see."
He fell silent again, and I didn't want that. We needed to keep talking.
"I don't understand."
This time, he looked into my eyes more insistently and seemed surprised.
"You're confusing me! If there's something you want to ask, just ask it."
If only it were as easy as he made it sound. There was always the risk of embarrassing myself.
"I'm asking because I have to give a statement to the police. Not everything is clear."
Suddenly, an idea popped into my head, and I silently congratulated myself.
"Maybe Büşra can explain it better."
His response confused me even more. Why was I so angry? What kind of question was that? Why don't you speak, the man I'm dying for? Why don't you just tell me?
The opening of the door interrupted our conversation. A nurse entered the room and injected some medication into my IV.
"How are you?" she asked. Wishing she'd leave quickly, I brushed her off.
"I'm fine, thank you." Just as she was about to leave, Furkan held the door and turned to her.
"Actually, she's in some pain." He must have assumed that because of the way I winced earlier when I moved.
"Can I check your wound?" When I turned my gaze to Furkan, he said nothing and stepped out. After the examination, the nurse smiled at me.
"There's nothing wrong; your stitches look great." I felt disheartened. Our conversation had been cut short. I couldn't even say it was incomplete; it felt like we hadn't reached any conclusion despite talking for so long for the first time.
"I wasn't in pain. I just strained myself while moving, and my stitches hurt," I replied, unable to hide the frustration in my voice.
"Pain during movement is normal. You're recovering well; you might even be discharged soon. You've stayed in the hospital long enough."
I realized I hadn't even thought to ask, "How long have I been here?"
"Over a week. And those two haven't left your side the entire time. That poor boy wore himself out sleeping on the chairs outside," she said. Her words shocked me. A week was such a long time, and I couldn't remember any of it.
"Who?" I asked, hanging on to her answer without thinking.
"Who else, dear? The boy who just left. Do you know how much he cares about you? When you were taken into surgery after arriving at the hospital, he and that girl, your companion, waited at the door. They were both crying. Then he started yelling at me, asking about you constantly. Of course, we couldn't say anything until the doctors updated us, and he was beside himself. Not to mention he cried while speaking, and that girl didn't leave your side for a second. I never saw them go home. My point is, dear, don't lose these two people who care about you so much."
When the nurse finished speaking, I struggled to keep my mouth from hanging open in astonishment. I already knew how much Büşra loved me; our bond had always been mutual. I would've done the same for her. I silently thanked God for giving me such a sister. But Furkan! Maybe he reacted so strongly because of the shock of the moment. But the fact that he didn't go home and stayed here, plus what I thought I heard before I blacked out… I couldn't be sure. Did he really say those words, or was my subconscious playing tricks on me?
"If you're feeling well enough, you'll need to give a statement to the police," she said. No, not now.
"Actually, I still feel tired. I'd like to recover a bit more before giving a statement. My mind is all over the place," I replied. I needed to finish my conversation with Furkan. There were answers I had to get.
"Of course, I understand. If you don't need anything else, I'll leave now." I shook my head to say no.
"Thank you," I said.
"Take care," she said as she walked out. I waited for Furkan to come back. When I heard a knock at the door, no one entered. It knocked again.
"Come in," I said. The door opened, and Furkan stepped inside. So he really hadn't left me alone, not even for a moment. This detail made me smile unconsciously. When I looked at Furkan, I saw that he was smiling too, and we both quickly looked away. How could someone look so good when they smiled?
"Are you okay?" Even his concern for me was starting to feel pleasant.
"How many more times do I have to say I'm fine? For you to believe me, I mean!" I snapped. He rolled his eyes, surprising me. When had we become this comfortable with each other?
"Got it. You're perfectly fine," he said. But we couldn't stop now. Everything needed to be cleared up.
"Furkan?"
"Merve?"
Saying each other's names at the same time made us both laugh. Feeling too tongue-tied to start, I decided to let him speak.
"Go ahead," I said. He fixed his gaze on the wall and began talking.
"When we arrived, you were arguing with that man. I didn't expect to see a gun in his hand. I know you've got people after you. That armed man in front of the station the other day wasn't the same guy. Though I couldn't see who it was, I could tell it wasn't an older man. But finding out that man was your grandfather? It's unthinkable. How can a person harm a piece of their own flesh and blood? When your grandfather pointed the gun at Büşra, I saw the pain in your eyes. But when he pointed it at you, that pain wasn't there. It was obvious how much you cared for him, and I couldn't let that happen. I wanted to erase the pain in your eyes. So I distracted your grandfather, made him point the gun at me instead. I didn't care about the gun being pointed at me. I just wanted to wipe that look from your face. But then, you jumped in front of me, and I couldn't believe it. I didn't want to believe it. You were shot. I couldn't accept it. I checked myself, felt nothing. But I wanted to feel something. I wanted to feel the pain of the bullet. I searched my entire body for pain, checked if I was bleeding. But there was only one place I felt pain, Merve. Only one place that bled—my heart. Seeing you lying there, covered in blood…"
He couldn't continue. He swallowed hard, trying to push down the lump in his throat. I hated seeing him like this. But while he was this open, I needed to ask the most important question. It was now or never. Even though the words caught in my throat, I forced myself to speak.
"Before I blacked out, you came to me. The things you said… if you really said them, could you say them again?"
He looked at me, took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly, his nose twitching slightly. I etched every single movement into my mind.
"Never mind," I said quickly. "It was probably just my subconscious playing tricks on me. Don't mind me."
I was sure I'd heard those words, but just because I believed it didn't mean he had actually said them. How badly I wanted him to claim me as his.
"As long as I'm breathing, I will never let anything happen to you," he said. I turned to face him. It wasn't my subconscious. It wasn't a joke. It wasn't a dream. It wasn't some silly imagination. They were exactly the same words he'd said to Büşra.