Boundless love

Chapter 1: She Bled, I Begged

— Halil Ibrahim —

She's utterly still. Sirens wail all around, but it's her silence, the absence of any sign of life, that's shredding me. Her blood seeps through my fingers, thick and dark, warm and unrelenting, as if the wound itself refuses to close. The paramedic tells me to keep pressure on the wound. I nod. I don't even look at him.

She hasn't made a sound since the shot rang out. Since Didem pulled the trigger with a smile.

I should've seen it coming. I thought we were safe. I let her believe we were safe.

And now... now she's unconscious, pale, barely breathing and I'm stuck in the back of an ambulance again, begging the universe to give me one more chance.

I lean closer, whisper her name like a prayer, willing the sound to reach her even if her ears can no longer hear. Zeynepim—my wife, my soul.

Nothing. Not even a twitch.

How many times can I almost lose her before I actually do?

And how the hell do I live with myself if this is the time she doesn't wake up?

The wheels of the ambulance screech against the pavement as we race through the streets, but it feels like we're standing still. Time slows down in moments like this. Each second stretches, each breath from her feels like the last.

I keep pressing, but her body feels colder with each passing minute. The blood doesn't stop. It's like I'm drowning in it—her blood, my guilt, my fear.

The paramedic's voice breaks through my haze, but his words don't make sense. Something about vitals, pressure, the need for more time. I just want her to open her eyes. Just once. To tell me I haven't failed her.

But she doesn't.

The weight of it settles on me. This is it, isn't it? This is how we end. Not with a fight, not with a scream. Just... silence. The silence that fills the space between us, the one I can't escape from, no matter how hard I try.

I feel my heart beating in my throat, each thump a desperate plea. Wake up, Zeynep. Please.

But nothing. No twitch of her eyelids. No soft flutter of breath. Just... nothing.

The guilt gnaws at me. Every mistake, every moment I should've done better, should've protected her more. It all crashes into me at once. I can't breathe. I can't think. I just want to go back, to undo it, to hold her safe, to keep her out of this.

I look down at her again, her face pale, her lips barely parted, like she's still holding on to some piece of herself. Come back to me. Please.

My fingers slip again, blood making it harder to keep a grip. The paramedic's hands are on mine now, steadying me, urging me to focus. But my mind is already far away.

"Hold on," I whisper to her, my voice breaking. "Please, just hold on."

The ambulance stops and doors slam open. The paramedics work quickly, pulling Zeynep's stretcher out into the cold hospital air, and I stumble after them, my hands still slick with her blood, shaking uncontrollably.

"Come on, we need to move!" one of the paramedics barks, his voice cold with urgency.

I don't care about anything else. I grip the edge of the stretcher, my heart thumping in my chest as we push her through the sterile halls, the fluorescent lights overhead flashing by like a blur. It's all happening so fast.

"Keep pressure on the wound!" another paramedic orders as they rush through the double doors of the operating room.

I glance down at Zeynep's pale face, still and lifeless. Her chest rises and falls, but it's weak, barely noticeable. I can barely breathe, barely think, my whole existence narrowing to this one moment.