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Chapter 35 Fate

"It is impossible! I must not! I must not! He repeated to himself. "Now Defne needs me calm and strong!"

"Let's go out, love," he said hoarsely and kissed her pale cheek. "Get dressed and I'll make you tea."

"Let's," she answered hoarsely.

They sat in the kitchen in front of large cups of tea. Defne embraced hers with both hands and begged to gods for warmth to warm not only her hands but also her soul.

"I wanted her to disappear from our lives ... but not like that." Not this way! - She covered her face with her hands.

"Hush, my soul," Omer hugged her and pressed his cheek to her temple. - The drunken moron who got behind the wheel is to blame for what happened. What happened is an unfortunate combination of circumstances.

"No," Defne dropped her hands and shook her head. - So it would be if I got under the wheels. But Fikret made a choice. Instinctively or consciously - we will never know this, but she saved my life.

"And mine," Omer said, looking into her eyes.

***

Stiffened like a statue in an armchair, the old woman sat in the dark living room and looked at the ashes in the fireplace. It was close to midnight, and Fikret had still not returned from a charity evening. Unclear anxiety stirred in her chest, but she drove it away.

A doorbell pushed her out of her brooding state. Deciding that this was the granddaughter who had forgotten the keys, she went to open it. But on the threshold stood not Fikret, but two policemen. Peering into emotionless faces, she stepped back and invited them in.

Further, everything resembled a nightmare. One of the policemen clearly said that her granddaughter, Fikret Galo, had got under a car and received injuries from which she died on the spot. She swayed, the policeman held out his hand to support her, but the old woman straightened up and refused the help.

The policeman said something about a drunk driver, who was driving a massive SUV at high speed, and that Fikret was in his way, but the old woman heard his voice as if through a layer of cotton wool.

- Where's she? - asked in a colorless voice.

"In the city morgue," the policeman answered.

In the morgue. She is cold and scared there.

"Please go away," she asked.

The men said goodbye and went out the door. She slowly, like a somnambulist, went upstairs and entered Fikret's room. On the table by the bed lay Melissa's diary. She took it, pressed it to her chest, and fell to her knees. A long howl cut through the dead silence of the house.

***

Defne, she thought that she could not sleep at all, but fatigue took its toll. She fell in disturbing sleep. Omer lay nearby and looked into the darkness. Thoughts and feelings circled in a frenzied whirlpool. He either began to warmly thank the Almighty for saving the life of Defne, then cursed the bastard who sat behind the wheel drunk, then repented that he spoke and thought badly about Fikret. But she changed so much that at the cost of her life she saved three others - Defne, baby's and his own. Because Omer knew one thing for sure - if something happened to Defne, he would die. Without her, he will not be able to live. There is no him without her.

He carefully pulled his hand from under her head and got out of bed. Silently stepping he went down and took out a bottle of whiskey from the bar. Splashing a generous portion into the glass, he drank it in one gulp and closed his eyes. Alcohol began to act. The lump in the solar plexus area weakened, and he was able to breathe deeply. He needs to go back to bed and try to sleep. Tomorrow will be a difficult day.