Chapter 3
Before she started working here, that is, before yesterday, his life was normal. It was so normal that strange things didn't ever happen to him. He certainly didn't have vivid dreams for one thing, dreams so tangible that he can still taste the last thing that he ate in it, still feel the temperature in it and still has a whiff of the last thing he smelled before he woke up. It was a mixture of hospital cleanliness, blood and a very particular scent of amplified love – that was it, the last smell before he opened his eyes.
It's the reason that his eyes now, eight hours from sleep, are looking at the new prosecutor with precise and keen interest.
She appears perfectly normal, and according to Pars, who in turn learned this from Neva, she is completely normal, except for the fact that she had a difficult loss in her life. His eyes can see her normality, and he really wants to believe them, but being a prosecutor, he knows that there is always more to it than the eye can immediately see. So he wonders, is there something else disguised beneath her prosecutor profession? Something spiritual, maybe mystical and very intentional with her path in life?
It's that all the details from the dreams are so vivid and still fresh in his mind. There's not a detail that he can't remember. Like his unlikely, very profound friendship with Pars. Pars and Neva dying. His grandfather present in their lives. His brother accused of murder, and most importantly –
'Killer! You are a killer, and you will be punished severely! I won't allow you to get away with it.'
Those words sharply draw him from his reverie, his eyes away from prosecutor Derya to the commotion just now entering through their section of the court. At first glance, he can't immediately make out who spoke, for the group coming through the door is too big. In the following second, however, after he's taken a short step forward and is concentrating on trying to capture everything that is happening, his heart begins to race.
He knows those people!
The two women in front, they are Aylin and Mother Gül, he knows them very well despite never having spoken to them in his life. That man behind them, seemingly following them, he's Zafer, and he's never had the chance to meet him, because he died before they could meet. It makes him heart race even faster and his hands clammy with sweat to see a group of people that he knows very well, yet has never met, walk down the corridors towards him.
Parla, he notices, that's the younger version of the young lady who went on to study international law, also the young lady who was going to be his sister-in-law at some point. And is that Inci scrambling alongside Parla, their arms hooked as if for the sole reason of comfort? He briefly closes his eyes, to one, clear his vision, and two, gather his mind to sanity, before he opens them again. The same group continues down the corridor, walking in strides.
Seeing them do so, he is no longer able to contain his legs and feet from moving on their own.
'You killed my son! You are a killer!' the same voice from before announces as if he has achieved something, but no one does anything to stop his attacks.
Curious, he searches for the animated voice among the approaching crowd, and seeing as it can't be Osman, Zümrüt and Ziver who are behind Parla and Inci, and it definitely isn't the two police escorting -his breath suddenly catches in his throat, his legs freezing in place and his whole body goes cold like someone just poured a bucket of ice over him.
'Ceylin,' involuntarily leaves his drying mouth in a gasp - she is the only face that his heart can recognise.
That's his wife, and she's in handcuffs, being led by the police to either him or prosecutor Derya for a case. If she's in handcuffs, and someone is shouting that their son was killed, then... Yes, there's Laçin, following behind the officers, and Yekta beside her, but his wife, Ceylin...
She was the last image of his dream, giving birth to their third child, a son at last, and he felt so much love for her. Even now, the feelings are so potent in his soul that he only wants to jump to her and release her from those handcuffs. Every emotion, every separation, every trial and reconciliation that they have had, it's all fresh in his mind as though a video is playing in his mind, but none of it is real.
The realisation almost makes his heart stop, because how is it possible that he has never spoken to her in his life, yet he feels so strongly for the wife that she was in his dream? She is the woman that he loves and yet, he doesn't know anything about her beyond the fact that she is a lawyer who frequents the court a lot.
Everything feels unreal, as if now, he's living in a dream outside of his real life where he was happily married with a wife and children. Surely, this is a dream where he is looking at Yekta calling her a killer, and he still has to formally meet her for the very first time. It doesn't make sense how he can feel so strongly for a stranger, unless this is the dream, and the dream was his real life. In any case, prosecutor Derya is the common factor, so he returns to looking at her for a moment. As soon as he lays his eyes on her, he decides that he won't be satisfied with just looking at her, and so forces himself out of his frozen state and begins walking to her.
'Prosecutor Derya?' he softly announces himself before reaching her at the door.
He didn't want to startle her unnecessarily since all her attention is on the fast-approaching group of people. Now only, seeing the look that she gives him upon hearing her name, he realises why she'd been standing outside her door, facing down the corridor, which gave him free room to study her from his office door some two doors up from hers.
'Prosecutor Ilgaz,' she nods, her face speaking of her exhaustion more.
'What's going on?' he nods towards the coming crowd.
'Lawyer Yekta Tilmen came to report a crime last night just as I was leaving the station,' she begins. 'His son was killed in their home and his son's best friend confessed to the crime. Honestly, there's not much of an investigation to be done. We went to the scene and her story lines up with the evidence found on the scene, but Mr. Tilmen wants to file another complaint on top of the pending murder charge.'
Yekta Tilmen's son (Engin) was killed, and Ceylin confessed to the murder?
'Are you sure?' he asks her but spins his head back to the crowd, his heart beginning to race faster than before.
'There's not much that we can do if the evidence supports her confession,' she explains it to him like he's never been part of a murder investigation before. 'I'm only worried about his new complaint. He apparently has quite the reputation around here.'
Not to Yekta's reputation, complaint or even the murder charge, but to how easily everything seems to be going, he frowns. Something is not right, he can just feel it in his being, from his feet to the last strand of hair on his head. He knows his wife, that is, his wife from the dream. The most important thing is that she is not capable of murder, no matter what, and the other important thing about her is that she doesn't just surrender unless it's to protect someone that she loves. As sure as his name is Ilgaz, she's taking the blame for one of her family members.
Maybe it's Parla, his eyes dart to her, maybe it's Inci, maybe it's her father - they're the only people who fit the profile by some circumstance or other.
'Would you like to come in, prosecutor Ilgaz?' she offers almost like she can read his mind of interest. 'With a confession, there's not much to be done, and I suspect that I will write the indictment as soon as the complaint is over, but if you're interested in what Yekta has to say, you're welcome.'
Despite not wanting to, he returns his eyes to his fellow prosecutor, and for the few seconds that he studies her, he wants nothing more than to ask who she really is. What does she really expect of him? Only she can be the cause of him tasting a love so sweet in a dream, and then test him about it the next day, because she's the only difference in his life recently.
How much of a coincidence is that exactly after she started here, he dreams of a wonderful life and the very next day, comes face to face with the choice of trying to make that dream a reality or to simply ignore it? Is this her test for him? Why else would she invite him in? He must at least try to prove that he isn't being tested.
'Prosecutor Derya…' he decides to try his hand at a personal investigation, pausing to take a necessary breath and then look for Ceylin through the group. 'Could I ask you something?'
He doesn't get a clear view of her in the crowd, but his colleague does answer with an even, 'Of course,' which brings his attention back to her.
It won't be an easy ask, and the chances of Yekta and her whole family objecting to it are high, but if he doesn't ask, he will never know. He looks for Ceylin again, feeling deep in his heart that simple things shouldn't be hard to explain, nor do they need to make sense to other people.
Albeit from a vivid dream, despite there being no logic behind it, he loves her, and that is it. It's very simple, true and tested across two universes in his dream. In one of the universes, he was willing to give them a try on the second night after they met. If that doesn't make things easier for him to make the request, he doesn't know what will, except maybe that if he doesn't take the leap now, he'll waste the love that he knows they can give each other.
'Could I speak to her in private before you begin?' he asks after the short silence. 'I wouldn't ask if it wasn't necessary,' he tries to make her see reason, and fortunately, she does.
Whether she trusts his position as a prosecutor, or she's really got a hidden agenda in his life, he's only glad that she agrees with a definite nod. He's glad, very glad, but he can't help it be impatient for them to talk alone. Especially watching prosecutor Derya move over to the group, his impatience increases.
Yes, there's the fact that he wants to hear her story and listen to her tone of certainty even as she dedicates herself to her rehearsed lie, but he mostly only wants to look into her eyes. As his colleague speaks with the police officers, instructing them to release her, he strains to get a glimpse of her around the people obstructing his view, only to get the bare minimum of her arm here and her shoulder there.
Oh, man, he may not be outwardly dying, but the wait is killing him; he wishes that it was just the two of them in his office where he could freely look into her eyes. He would then be lost, completely dissolved in her soft gaze as it has happened time after time in his dream. And then he'd want to make everything all right for her, to see her smile, to ease all of her worries and take her pain away.
At last she's released from the handcuffs, catches his attention as she starts to walk through the crowd with her head down, following prosecutor Derya who ushers her into her office. The idea of the three of them being inside the office makes his heart drop in disappointment, but he should've realised that she wouldn't allow them to be alone.
'Prosecutor Ilgaz, please,' his colleague invites, showing him inside her office with her hand.
Not needing to be told twice, he hungrily steps in to be pleasantly surprised when the other prosecutor only reaches inside to pull the door closed behind him. As it shuts, he breathes out his relief and readies himself for meeting her for the first time since he saw her face eight hours ago. When he opened his eyes this morning, he didn't think that he would end up meeting her, let alone having a private moment with her, yet here he is, swallowing hard and dying to see in which ways this Ceylin resembles his wife in the dream.
Since she entered, she hasn't looked up and she keeps pulling on the left sleeve of her jersey, very reminiscent of the time in his dream when she didn't remember what she'd done in the forest. It's such a specific tell about her state of mind that his heart's only response is to break. In the life within his dream, in times like these, pulling her close would assure her of his support, although considering that they've never met in real life, he's hesitant even to take a step towards her.
'Ceylin,' he decides to tentatively for her attention, being careful with his tone so as not to scare her away from him.
Hearing her name, she whips her head up at him, settling her alarmed eyes on him. They look at him precisely as confused as they should, however, they're also intrigued to know why he's calling her that specific way. Well, if there's any comfort in all of this surreal experience, at least now he knows that Ceylin's really her name - he never knew it before his dream. And thinking of names -
'Ilgaz Kaya,' he gestures to himself in an attempt to rectify that to her, he is just an unknown man in a room with her.
Unlike when he said her name, hearing his name does nothing for her. If anything, she looks at him with the same confusion and curiosity. Strangely, for his part, also unlike when she first looked at him, he's suddenly overcome by how strongly her love still lingers everywhere inside of him. His fingers are itching to touch it, to touch her and confirm that she is real. His ears are dying to hear her voice say anything to him, even the most absurd of lies. And his arms, his arms only long to take her in them and protect her from the circumstances that are trying to keep them apart.
'What is it, prosecutor Ilgaz?' she quietly, but firmly questions, her fighter spirit still alight even though very dimly so. 'You're not the prosecutor dealing with my case. What do you want with me?'
What a question, he thinks, and how does he begin to answer it?
She doesn't know it, but there's too much between them that reality cannot make him forget. Like how they overcame everything together, how he held her hand within these very courts, and how when he went home, she was always there.
'You're protecting someone,' he says to her with certainty - he could be wrong, but he isn't. 'I don't know who it is, but I do know that if you let me, I will help you through this. I will also do my best to help whoever you are protecting. I won't let anything happen to you, but only if you trust me.'
As a prosecutor, he knows that those words mean nothing to the one who is accused. The natural instinct of the one accused of any crime is to distrust every authority associated with the law, and being the lawyer that she was in his dream, he doesn't fully expect her to agree to his condition. In short, he has nothing in his favour to win her trust. If there was a way to tell her and make her believe that her eyes are the very same that he spent years falling into with absolute love.
'Ceylin...' he calls her name again, hoping that it will build a bridge for her to climb onto towards him. 'You cannot spend your life in prison for a crime that you didn't commit. I won't let it happen.'
Right then, he sees something break in her eyes. From confused, they turn extremely soft and glassy as her face takes on a touched expression. It's like she's opening herself up for him to believe in and fight for her.
He will fight for her, she can be sure of that, and with that as his motivation, he moves forwards slowly, not wanting to scare her. When he is close enough, even as he reaches out with his hand, he keeps his eyes on hers just to assure her that he has no bad intentions for her.
At first, only the tips of his fingers touch the top of her hand, waiting for her to flinch at his touch. She doesn't, and so he carefully moves his hand into hers, pausing once they are holding hands, to look down at them. How can something that he is doing for the first time, feel this easy and right? Everything about this surpasses logic, if he's being honest with himself. He was never one to believe in things that had no logic behind them, and yet here he is with his eyes still on their hands, feeling as though he's held her hand all of his life.
'I don't mean you any harm,' he gently promises, taking the last step to bring them even closer, still keeping his eyes on their joined hands. 'Please trust me and let me help you. I won't leave you.'
To seal the promise, he raises their hands to his face, turning them over so that the back of her hand is exposed to him and on it, he presses a light kiss. Having done that, he then lifts his eyes to hers, where he finds a thousand and seventeen emotions decorating her face. If her eyes were glassy before, he doesn't have a descriptor for them now.
'Trust me,' he urges one last time, to which she answers with an expressive nod to accept him into her life.
What a relief.
Even if he tried, he couldn't have stopped his arms from wrapping around her to bring her into his thankful embrace after that. There's no doubt that he is crazy, totally out of his mind and might very well be making the biggest mistake of his life by following the lead of a vivid dream, but he will take the chance. If this is the only chance he has to start living a life by her side, then he won't pass it up.