Chapter 5
He wishes that it was only his hands shaking. Then at least, he could explain it away with the temperature. His excuse would be that his hands can't stand the chill, hence their shaking, and hence him stuffing them into his coat pockets to protect them. If only that was the reality and nothing more. Yes, his hands are shaking, but no, they're not doing so from the chill in the air. His hands are shaking, because his heart started shaking first.
'We'll talk outside,' she'd said to him just a few minutes ago.
On the outside, he had nodded to her serious statement, keeping his demeanour straight and unaffected, but inside, right at the top of his heart, on the part that's responsible for the first unfiltered reactions, he panicked. A combination of fear and hopelessness gripped that part of his heart, and then suddenly his whole heart was shaking, quite fearful of what was to come. After that, his legs and hands succumbed to shaking as well.
He is dead afraid of their talk; he cannot lie to himself about that.
Yes, of course, the question was his, coming from a place of insecurity, and as much as he forced the issue, as insistently as he kept pushing, he's deadly afraid to hear what she will say to him. When he remembers how she evaded the question and every tactic that she used to avoid talking about it, how can he not be afraid of the fact that she suddenly wants to talk? And that at the station where she just happened to have a somewhat heated talk with Firat in the dark?
No, something is wrong here, and his body can testify of that. Nonetheless, he cannot avoid the talk, he can only pretend to be composed and in order as he sits down next to her, briefly looking at her and hoping with his shaking heart that she doesn't realise his fear. With her head looking right ahead, he doesn't think that she will notice, but he still hopes that she won't catch on.
'I'm listening,' he then initiates to have some form of control over the situation; he may not know what he will hear, but if he can somehow direct their talk...
'I want to get this over with tonight,' she dryly responds, keeping her face still looking ahead.
Maybe he should be happy that she finally wants to air things out and place them in order, maybe he should be. It's only that he isn't. Rather, his heart starts beating faster, imagining that whatever she and Firat said to each other in the parking lot, gave her a deadline.
'Okay,' he answers, his voice sounding so hoarse that he has to clear his throat afterwards.
'There's not much to say,' she flatly tells him. 'It's all very straightforward. I realised that I want more than this marriage and this family. It's not enough for me, so I'm leaving, Ilgaz.'
One time in combat training, he was on the receiving end of pepper spray. He remembers everything stinging, everything burning, his breath rapidly running out, and worst of all, was the heavy pressure inside his chest. It felt like a mountain was crushing everything in there.
Another time, also in combat training, after touching the wrong plant in the forest, he made the mistake of touching his face before he could wash his hands. The effect was horrible, he felt like he was on fire from head to toe, and he was surely going to die within the next few seconds.
This time, completely unrelated to combat training, the sensation of his skin burning, his eyes stinging, his breathing collapsing, his heart exploding over and over in his chest, and heavy weight forcing his body to immobility, is unlike anything he experienced in the past.
If only he could move his arms to adjust, no, undo his tie. His tie is too tight. He's trying to pull in a breath, but the tie is in the way, it's too tight, and he's... He's...
'It's been a hard few days and the only light that I have had was seeing Firat,' he hears her say, her tone light somehow, like she's smiling as she talks. 'You can't imagine how happy I've been to walk next to him again.'
Everything is so hard, but he tries his best to turn his head towards her, just to see if her eyes are shining with emotion, or if he's just delirious from the pain, imagining the happiness in her voice. His head doesn't budge, though. He wonders if the difficulty to breathe has anything to do with his inability to move.
'I didn't realise how important he was to me until I saw him again,' she continues to say. 'You were right, Ilgaz, it wasn't over between us, and I think that I want to be with Firat again.'
The mind is an incredible piece of someone. The ability that it has to change in an instant and affect the body's response to that change, is unbelievable. Just a second ago, he was in constricting, uncomfortable pain, barely getting air into his lungs and now, now he is suddenly crashed to absolute zero. His mind heard that his world was over and drained all the energy from him. It's unreal how defeated he is to the point of being unable to say a weak 'No' in protest.
'I've wondered if he hadn't left, or if I'd been brave enough to wait for him, would we be married by now?' she sounds to reminisce with tender fondness. 'He always loved me, and I loved him. He came into my life when I needed someone like him. With him, I didn't feel my father's absence as much as before. He made me laugh, and he was everything and more for me. I want to have that again.'
Between finding his tie too tight and feeling absolutely defeated, he would rather feel suffocated. Suffocation to the alternative of his love confessing that she no longer wants him, is infinitely better. Okay, he somehow found the ability to barely move his body now, and okay, he doesn't feel like his skin is on fire anymore, but what does it matter? What does it matter that he is able to face her, see her eyes, and she him, if his fear has come true?
Her eyes are so determined and fierce, looking into his with no mercy, and he can't imagine that he can do anything to stop her from leaving him. He has been dead afraid of losing her, constantly doubting everything and everyone's actions, and it turns out, he was right, so now what?
'Are you happy now?' she asks, filling the extended silence, her tone suddenly angry.
He can't speak, can't feel his heart, he isn't even sure that there's life in his body, feeling happiness is the last thing possible to him right now.
'That's what you wanted to hear, isn't it?' she roughly continues asking, either disinterested to hear his answer to the previous question, or not patient enough to wait for it.
'You've been going around, looking at me as if I would tell you that I'm leaving at any moment, so tell me, Ilgaz!' she demands, following it up with crassly shoving his shoulder to get a response from him, but he can't respond to her. 'Aren't those the words that you've been hearing in your head since you found out about Firat, huh? Are you happy?' she shoves his shoulder again. 'Is it everything that you thought it would be to hear me say that?'
No. No, it's not.
Even that, he still can't say. He can only remain quiet and continue to watch her and do nothing as tears fill her eyes and her face contorts to a pained expression.
'Do you really doubt that I love you, Ilgaz?' she questions him, but it's the defeat in her tone that's unbearable to hear, making his stomach turn uncontrollably. 'I'm frustrated and angry with you, I said some things and yes, I haven't fully gotten over everything with Mercan, but I love you. Would I be here if I didn't? Why are we together if you don't believe that I love you and want to stay with you?'
His question exactly, why hasn't she forgiven him about Mercan? Of course, she isn't obligated to do it, but he was under the impression that she did, until he learned that she didn't. Her forgiveness was what made his life okay to go on with, only for him to find out that he didn't have it. He found on the same day that she secretly smiled at something that Firat did inside Cenet's house, which had been painful to see. Was there a joke between them? Did she find him cute and funny? What was that?
'I don't care about Firat, Ilgaz!' she stresses as if she just read his mind. 'That was a long time ago. I don't care if he stays or if he leaves, because he doesn't matter to me.'
She says that, but his mind still has the image of them fighting for Yiğit's diary. It had seemed like such a natural thing between the former couple, precisely at a time when everything at home was unnatural. His mind doesn't want to doubt her word, much less distress her to this point, though considering her refusal to forgive him, he can't stop himself from feeling insecure about where they stand as a married couple.
'Aren't you going to say anything?' she asks him, her eyes expecting an answer, but he literally still can't speak. 'Okay, I understand,' she nods. 'You will stay out again and come back when I'm asleep. I wonder if tonight is the night that you will decide to sleep downstairs, because I worry about that, you know. I don't know what you're thinking, Ilgaz. I don't know if you're tired of me, if you're reconsidering or wondering if we're always going to have problems. I understand that everything has been hurtful lately, your father, your brother and then this case, but you have no reason to worry about Firat, Ilgaz,' she softly cries, the tears in her eyes finally slipping down her cheeks. 'I didn't tell you about him, because he means nothing to me. There wasn't even time to tell you about him. I went to work without talking to you that day, and the next thing I know, you're summoning Firat to the scene. Yes, I was in his office when your request came, but I wasn't in there thinking about my past with him. I went there for the case, and he found his way into my car, that's why I came with him.'
She shouldn't remind him of that, he thinks, at least managing to shake his head in an attempt to get rid of the picture of them climbing out of her car.
'What do the details even matter, Ilgaz?' she asks. 'I don't want him, he's not a factor in our life. I wouldn't have gone looking for him even if I knew that he was back here. Look, I'm sick of this topic with Firat. I don't want to keep talking about him like he means something to me. He's not Eren, we're not friends. I didn't even ask for his number. You know me when it comes to doing my job, I almost don't know any limits, and this case is especially important to me. I could've taken his number to ask for updates, but I didn't care about that, only for you to sit there and say nothing.'
Her eyes implore him to say something, but he really can't say anything to her. He looks back at her, wanting to give her some assurance that he has heard her, except, he might say the wrong thing to her.
'Fine!' she suddenly decides, just as suddenly gets up from the bench and walks away from him without another word.
From the looks of it, if they never recover from this, he will be to blame, and then he will never forgive himself for it. He needs to find a way to confront himself before he loses his family forever this time.
26Chapters
Of the few things that he expected to find once he came home, her sitting where he is meant to sleep tonight isn't one of them. When he takes the hour into consideration, however, it's not surprising that she concluded that he wouldn't be coming home to sleep, and so sat in that place to verify it. It's a terrible thing that he obviously made her go through, and no, he hadn't wanted to miss Mercan's bedtime, but for the wellbeing of their family, he needed all those hours alone to put everything into perspective for himself. He's done that, and now slipping off his coat after his shoes, foregoing the slippers to simply walk inside in his socks, he has to explain himself to his wife – if she will listen to him, that is. He doesn't even dare to sit down once he approaches her on the sofa, scared that when he sits, she will reject him by standing up and leaving him there by himself.
'Whenever you're willing to listen, I'm ready to talk,' he tentatively offers.
He can't just assume that they will talk because she is sitting here, doing nothing. For all he knows, she could be emotionally closed off to the idea of him until tomorrow morning. He will respect whatever she decides, but just as he thinks that she won't answer him, she lifts her head to him, finally showing him her red nose and eyes; clearly, she's been crying.
'Talk,' she answers and crosses her arms before going back to staring ahead of her.
He takes that as an invitation to sit down, immediately beginning to undo his tie as he does, pulls it off next, and then sets it down between them as an excuse to adjust in his seat and face her.
'Can you look at me, please?'
His ask is too much, he knows, it's even a bit shameless when compared to how she begged him to answer her, but fortunately, she does listen to it. Though her arms remain crossed, she does adjust her body to face him with it.
'All this time, I didn't realise that you didn't forgive me,' he starts, deliberately choosing to start right at the root of things.
To that introduction, she only shrugs as if to say that it's no matter, which is neither good nor bad. It's just a reaction, he decides, it's at least enough of a response to urge him to continue with his confession.
'It's not to make this about you or burden you with it, but you need to know that your forgiveness was all that I counted on to live. I will always have my guilt about Mercan and leaving you alone when I should've been the first to stand by your side and support you, and that will never change, but I thought, 'At least she forgives me.''
If she asks, he will get into the specifics of what her forgiveness did to him inside, because it was that significant. After the dark hole that he lived in since the day that she gave him the ring back, her forgiveness was exactly the hope that he needed to believe in the goodness of life again.
'I've seen you forgive everyone and everything, and I fell more in love with you because of it, and so when I believed that you also forgave me for everything, I had a reason to live with myself,' he tells her with all sincerity. 'Your forgiveness made it easy for me to bear my guilty conscience - it gave me the strength to smother my inadequacy and failure.'
Just as he stops there for a moment, she sniffs, uncrosses her arms and then looks away for a second. Only she knows how deeply she's processing the confession, although as he knows her, he can count on the fact that his confession has touched her to an extent. If not, her arms would still be crossed defensively.
'When it sounded like you didn't forgive me, like you were barely tolerating me, my world fell into itself. Everything became a mess,' he swears, part of his mind going back to that night. 'I wish that I could explain that feeling of depression to you. My guilt became unbearable and suddenly everything was slipping from my hold. Everything seemed out of my reach, and I was useless again. It felt like one moment, you were running down the corridor with your hand in mine, agreeing to be my wife again, and the next, I was separated from you all over again, but this time felt permanent.'
He uses the word separated, when in truth, it has felt like they painfully tore apart and everywhere they had been attached, wouldn't stop bleeding no matter what he tried to do to cover the wound. He shudders just thinking about that night and the thoughts that followed him from then on. In a way, he had started to prepare himself for her physical absence, which he believed would soon follow her revelation that night.
'My mind started to see you leaving again, treating me coldly again, rejecting to stand close to me without someone between us again, and I just couldn't handle it. I don't know if you already understand this, but there's a certain way that only you can hurt me,' he tells her now breaking expression – compassion is starting to show on her face. 'Outside of work, if you don't trust me, or if you don't want me near you, it's like I'm constantly burning and bleeding. I wonder how to make things right and then I agonize on the idea of you never wanting anything to do with me again. I become paranoid and wonder about every phone call that you make, every smile that's not for me, everything that you don't say. Who are you talking to? What plans are you making with them? Things like that. And then this Firat shows up...'
'I don't care about Firat, Ilgaz,' she says, filling the brief silence that his slight pause caused, to which he shrugs.
'He was your first love, your first everything,' he sombrely reminds her. 'I've observed him, he is like you, and I imagine that you two always saw eye to eye. As if that wasn't enough, you later tell me that you didn't formally break up. From then on, it was a mess in my head, Ceylin. I saw how you two got along, and it killed me to know that I am not like him. I wondered if you thought that I restricted you as a person, or if Firat would've supported you when Mercan was missing. In my mind, right between us was a man who had the chance to take you away from me, and he wouldn't need much to do it, because you didn't forgive me anyway. I thought, if you wanted, you could leave me without looking back. That's how I felt.'
Although not finished yet, he stops talking to look at her and give her the chance to say something if she wants to. It's a lot that he confessed, shameful too, and so he needs to hear her take on his turmoil. The right thing for her to do would be to judge him for acting out of character – he actually expects her to, if he's being honest, but no, her face softens instead.
'Don't feel like that anymore,' she simply says. 'I'll say this for the last time, and then it's over. Firat is in my past. I don't want to remember how it was like with him. I don't want to wonder about the person that I was back then, because I am here with you, and I wouldn't choose a life where you aren't my husband. Okay, we still have a little thing about this case, but you know me, I will eventually get over it and we will be fine. I'm just so tired of not being happy around you because of an ex-boyfriend. Coming home to you and Mercan is supposed to be the happiest part of my day.'
And his, he silently agrees. Walking through their door is usually the time that he looks forward to, the part that gives true purpose to his life.
'I am sorry, Ceylin. I beg your pardon for everything,' he pleads more than says it. 'I was expressing my turmoil like that, because I didn't want to rationalise it all in my head. For the first time in my life, I didn't want to face the truth. It was easier to see Firat as an attractive option for you than to constantly remember why you didn't forgive me.'
'I forgave you,' she tells him with a small shrug. 'Somewhere between finding out that someone had Mercan and breaking into Efe's office, I forgave you. I was so tired of carrying all that grief and resentment by then, I didn't hesitate to let it go. I said those things because I was angry about the case. Well, the Nil part was something I always wanted to say, but that's not the point,' she half smiles. 'The point is, all this Nil and Firat talk is stupid. They're nothing between us, so let's forget about them.'
It's amazing how easy she's making it sound, so very over with and not a factor in their lives anymore. Granted, she is an amazing person, with an amazing ability to put everything behind her with just one sincere apology, but he doesn't feel as though he deserves her grace just yet. He so badly wants it, except...
'Ceylin…' he softly tries to contest her, because they shouldn't be finished yet; he feels that bad about what he's put her through all because he wasn't at peace with himself.
'I miss your skin,' she answers both naturally and unexpectedly, surprising him even more when she scoots closer and reaches for his shirt buttons to start unbuttoning them. 'We're fine now. Husband and wife are fine,' she explains her meaning as she continues to open his buttons, 'so I want to sleep with my head on your chest. I want to drown in your smell and forget all those nights without you. Don't say no.'
That makes him smile harder than he would've thought was possible to do in this situation. There are times (like now) that he doesn't believe that he was blessed enough to have this woman in his life. The ways in which she takes him by surprise sometimes are simple and yet so impactful; he loves her so much, of course he won't say no, not tonight.
'I need to take a shower first,' he excuses though, because as much as she says they are fine, he still needs to wash the day's troubles away so that he can get into bed with a fresh and untainted mindset.
'Okay,' she nods, gently accepting his condition just as she finishes the last of his buttons and looks up at him. 'Just promise to sleep like this and next to me. I don't care if it's here or in bed, just as long as we're together.'
'I promise,' he agrees. 'This sofa isn't very comfortable, and I've missed sleeping with you.'
He's missed her smile and conversation so much. He's missed their banter in the car, their random, flirty calls during the day and their chatty family dinners so much more. Tomorrow they can go back to fighting about the case, but tonight is theirs to reconcile in each other's arms.
'Me too,' is her answer as she gets onto her feet but also reaches for his face, running her hand under his chin in a soft caress. 'I'll be waiting for you. Don't make me wait too long.'
Having said that, she caresses under his chin one more time, shows him a soft smile and then moves past him, leaving him still in disbelief at how smooth their reconciliations are. Each and every time, it doesn't take much for them to return to normal, which makes him feel stupid for always allowing small things to separate them.
'Ceylin?' he calls, quickly turning in the sofa and getting up just as suddenly as he decides that he will do better to keep them together from now onwards.
Even if he hadn't wanted to commit to protecting them as a married couple, her enthusiastic turn back to him, and more that she gives him her full attention, reminds him that he never will be better with anyone but her, hence he must do better than he has ever done to keep their marriage safe from every big and small attack.
'I love you,' he ends up saying, feeling that anything else won't be sufficient to express his gratitude for what they've overcome.
Her response is to send a kiss to him through the air, and really, she might as well have done it right on his lips, because the effect is the same to him. As though her fingers are framing his face with her thumbs in front of his ears as her lips lightly peck on his, a fluttering sensation fills his chest, provoking him to smile warmly, except she doesn't see the product of her action, because she goes back to walking to their bedroom without delay. It's fine, he keeps smiling after her, he doesn't need her to say the words back to him anyway, it's very clear that she wouldn't be with him, enduring all of this if she didn't love him.