Author's POV

The graveyard was quieter than Ateş remembered, as if the city had learned to hold its breath out of respect for the dead.

The air smelled of wet earth and old stone, and the sky hung low, heavy with clouds that threatened rain but had not yet decided.

Ateş stood before the grave without his coat buttoned, hands clenched at his sides, his posture rigid in a way that had nothing to do with the cold.

Elyul Karahan.

The name was carved too neatly for something that had torn his life apart so messily.

“So,” he said quietly, his voice steady in a way that felt dishonest even to himself. “This is where you decided to stay.”

He bent down slowly, the movement deliberate, controlled, like everything else he did.

His fingers brushed the grass near the stone, damp from evening dew. He did  bring flowers. He always did. Although flowers felt temporary, and this loss was anything but.

“They tell me time changes things,” he continued, his gaze fixed on the name. “They lie.”

The words fell into the silence and disappeared. Ateş exhaled through his nose, a breath that carried years of restraint.

“I kept everything running,” he said. “The business. The house. The people who depend on me. I became exactly what I needed to become.” His jaw tightened. “And it still didn’t bring you back.”

For a moment, his control slipped. Only for a moment. His hand pressed flat against the stone, grounding himself.

“I would have burned everything for you,” he murmured. “You know that.”

Footsteps reached him then. They were soft and careful. Not Cemal’s. Ateş froze.

He did not turn immediately. He did not need to. He knew that rhythm. He had heard it before, in hallways, in rooms where tension lived quietly between two people pretending not to notice it.

Mercan.

His body reacted before thought did. He stood up swiftly and moved behind the nearest tree, the trunk wide enough to hide him fully if he pressed close.

His back met the rough bark, his breath slowing by force. This was not fear. This was instinct.

She could not see him like this.

He watched her through the branches as she walked toward the grave, unaware that the man standing only meters away was Tahir, the brother of the woman she had come to mourn.

Her face looked different tonight, stripped of its usual composure, her eyes red, her shoulders tense beneath her scarf.

She stopped when she reached the stone, as if the weight of the name had physically halted her.

“Oh,” she whispered.

The sound cut through him more sharply than anger ever had.

She knelt slowly, her movements reverent, hesitant, as though afraid of doing something wrong. Her fingers hovered over the stone before touching it lightly.

“I found out today,” Mercan said, her voice trembling despite her effort to keep it steady. “No one told me before.”

Ateş closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them, his gaze did not leave her.

“I kept thinking I had time,” she continued. “That I would visit. That we would talk.” A bitter, breathless laugh escaped her. “I didn’t even know what I was waiting for.”

She swallowed hard.

“I don’t know if you believed in forgiveness,” Mercan said softly. “But I hope you knew you were loved. Even when everything was… complicated.”

Her hand rested on the stone now, fully, her palm warm against the cold surface.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “For not seeing you. For not understanding.”

Ateş’s jaw clenched. His fingers dug into the bark behind him.

She stayed there longer than he expected, speaking quietly, telling his sister things that felt too intimate to overhear, and yet he did not move.

He listened as Mercan spoke of regret, of confusion, of grief that had arrived late but with devastating clarity.

Each word felt like a confession meant for him, even though she did not know he existed in this space.

When she finally stood, she brushed her fingers against her cheeks, took a steadying breath, and whispered a final goodbye.

Ateş waited until her footsteps faded before stepping back into the open. The graveyard felt different now, altered by her presence, by the warmth she had left behind.

“She loved you,” he said quietly to the stone. “Without knowing who I was.”

He straightened, his face hardening as control reasserted itself. He turned and left without looking back.

After A Few Minutes

The office was sharp and bright, glass and steel replacing earth and shadow.

Ateş moved through it with practiced authority, every step measured. Cemal fell into stride beside him effortlessly, tablet in hand, eyes alert.

“You ar already here,” Cemal observed. “Or you are upto something?"

Ateş did not slow. “What do you need?"

Cemal glanced at him, reading the tension he had learned to recognize over years of loyalty.

"The hospital project approvals came through. And Aslı has been asking if you need anything before the site visit.”

“No,” Ateş said immediately.

Cemal raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

They stopped when Mercan approached, a file clutched to her chest. She hesitated for a fraction of a second before speaking.

“You wanted to see me.”

“Yes,” Ateş said, his tone neutral. “We’re going to inspect the site personally. We leave in ten minutes.”

Her eyes widened slightly. “Today.”

“Now,” he corrected.

She nodded. “I’ll get my things.”

As she turned to leave, Aslı appeared, her smile too quick, too hopeful.

“I heard you’re going out of town,” she said lightly. “I could come along. It might be helpful.”

Ateş turned to face her fully. “It won’t be.”

Aslı’s smile faltered. “I just thought..."

“Don’t,” he said, not harshly, but with finality. “This is not a discussion.”

Cemal watched the exchange carefully, something unreadable passing through his eyes.

After Fifteen Minutes

The car ride was long and quiet, tension thick enough to feel. Mercan stared out the window for a while before finally speaking.

“Something happened?" she said softly.

Ateş’s grip on the steering wheel tightened almost imperceptibly. “What do you mean?"

“Nothing,” she said. “But you looked like someone who is angry over something.”

He glanced at her then, his gaze sharp. “You don’t know anything about me.”

She met his eyes without flinching. “Then why does it feel like I do?"

The engine sputtered suddenly. The car slowed, then stopped entirely.

Ateş exhaled sharply. “Perfect.”

Mercan let out a breathless laugh, tension breaking for just a moment. “I suppose this is where we get out.”

He nodded, already reaching for his phone.

The road stretched empty ahead of them, the silence charged, and somewhere beneath it all, something dangerous had already begun to take shape.

To be continued.....

Author’s Note

This is an emotional journey. What follows will be deeply romantic, intense, and layered with longing, restraint, and inevitable collision.

Did the graveyard scene move you?

Did Ateş’s silence hurt more than words?

Do you feel the tension already building?

Tell me what do you think about it? Are you excited?

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Purva Narang