"There, in Marseilles, were you with Iz?"
As soon as the phrase flew from her lips, Defne regretted that she had spoken it. Again she could not restrain herself and betrayed her feelings.
"Stupid, Defne! Where is your pride? "She scolded herself in her mind and tried to return the mask of indifference to her face. But Omer was no longer misled by this mask. He saw under it his Defne. Impulsive and sincere. Taking her chin and turning her face to himself, he looked into deep, amber eyes and answered:
- Not!
Defne closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Omer, stroking the delicate skin of her cheek with his thumb, spoke:
- Defne, I went to lick my wounds and understand myself. To think.
Decide how to live on. Iz was the last person I remembered then.
Defne removed his hand from her face and noted with bitter irony:
- You thought and decided to file for divorce ... I see. It is a logical decision.
- Defne, no. It's not like that! "I never wanted a divorce," Omer protested vehemently, but Defne only grinned wryly.
- You didn't want to, but ordered the lawyer to start the divorce proceedings ..."OK, Omer. We are past it. We're going to wrap up the conversations. I'm tired and want to sleep. "She turned on her side, her back to him and closed her eyes.
Omer didn't want to wrap up. At all. He desperately wanted to talk openly about all the problems. Dissect the abscesses and remove the pus that poisoned their lives. But Defne looked so exhausted and tired that he backed away. He got out of bed, looked for a long time at the thin profile of his wife, at the long eyelashes that cast a shadow on her pale cheeks, on her shiny hair and the thin hand lying on top of the blanket. It pinched in his chest. He wanted to lie down beside her. Hug and warm her with his warmth, share his strength. But she did not want this.
He turned off the light and quietly left the room.
Defne opened her eyes. She pressed her hand to her chest and barely whispered:
"Allah help me!"
In the morning she woke up from the sound of footsteps outside the door. They were almost silent, but her uneasy sleep was still disturbed. Defne lay and listened to Omer moving around the house. The clink of kitchen utensils, steps on the stairs, creaking doors to the bathroom, the sound of water pouring behind a wall.
The door to the bedroom quietly opened and Omer, trying to step quietly, went into the closet. Defne closed her eyes and pretended to be sleeping. A rustle of fabric was heard behind the movable curtain. Omer was getting dressed. She imagined this picture and she felt hot. Butterflies revived in the stomach and tickled sweetly with their wings. Defne was angry with them and herself. She swore in her mind.
"Defne, I know that you're not sleeping," the damn butterflies went completely crazy from the velvet notes of his voice.
Defne opened her eyes. Dressed in a business suit, shirt and tie, all so impeccably elegant Omer Iplikci, stood near her bed and looked at her so affectionately that she wanted to cry.
"Good morning," she greeted and pulled herself higher to the head of the bed.
- Good morning! Defne I need to be in Passionis today. Breakfast is on the table. Eat it to the last crumb. And do not try to ignore it. I will ask Zehra. By the way, she will come in half an hour and do all the housework. And you rest and gain strength.
She nodded silently. Omer wanted to kiss her goodbye. More precisely, he wanted her to do it. Like a loving wife who sees her husband off to work, but now he could only dream about it. Well, he will put this dream in a box to the rest and will slowly, step by step, go to their realization.
Omer left, and Defne slowly got out of bed. She put herself in order and went downstairs. Breakfast was on the table: scrambled eggs with ham, fresh vegetables, and fruits, dried olives, her favorite cheese, and toast. Even freshly brewed tea is poured into a thermos and in a beautiful bowl - walnut-oatmeal cookies, Italian. Which the gourmets adore and she, Defne.
When Zehra entered the house, breakfast was eaten and Defne was cleaning the table. The woman approached the girl. She smiled softly and took the tray with dirty dishes from her hands.
- Mrs.Defne, I will do everything myself. And you must rest. So said Mr.Omer.
- Sister Zehra, what madam? - Defne was indignant. - Once again you say so - I'll be offended!
- Ok, Defne, good! - agreed the woman and gently pushed the girl in the back. - Then you listen to me. Go have a rest.
Defne did not argue. Moreover, she had plans. And the first is to call Nihan.
Her friend answered after the first ring.
"Girl," Nihan screamed or laughed on the phone in her usual manner, "how are you?" Still angry with us? Do not be angry. We want your happiness. And it is next to Omer, - her friend did not allow a word to be inserted. "He loves you so much." He sat by your bed all night long. And in the afternoon we forcefully pushed him out of your room. And he also banned turning off the life support device ...
"Wait, wait." Defne finally wedged herself into the waterfall of Nihan's words. - But about this in more detail. What does it mean - banned? The doctor also talked about this. And what did he mean when he said to Omer: you not only saved your wife's life but also my peace of mind?
"That's what it is," Nihan's voice changed. It became low and crushed. "You didn't come to your senses." The doctors did research and told us your brain was dead. No chance. Мust turns off the device or pays a lot of money for the connection. Sigorta does not apply to such a procedure. They were so convincing ... and grandmother ... Defne she almost died then! ... Grandma agreed. You should have been disconnected the next day. But Omer flew in. He forbade turning off the device, paid for everything, demanded that they conduct new research, sit at your bed and talk, talk, and then ... Defne, it was a miracle! A real miracle! You woke up! We thought we would die of happiness.
Defne's mind stirred. Brain death. There was no chance. Omer forbade to turn off the device. Allah Allah! Did he save her life? First, killed, and then saved? And what should she do with this new truth?
- Girl! Are you alive there? Why are you silent? - Nihan's worried voice rang from the speakers.
"I'm thinking, " Defne answered.
- Aah! Think about it. And don't be mad at grandma. She wants your happiness.
Her hand with the phone dropped down. Defne sat on the bed with her head bowed and staring blankly at the floor. She thought.
Omer flew in and did not let her die. He refused a divorce. He takes care of her and wants to make peace. He says he loves her. But what about the other Omer? The one who never chose her. Which always put pride above love. Which lifted her into the sky, and then let go of her hand, and she hit the ground and broke into pieces. Is this Omer gone?
Chaos reigned in her head. And this chaos disturbed and tormented her. She needed something to occupy her hands and head, and work always put her thoughts in order.
Defne got to her feet and went into the study. She just needs white sheets of paper and pencils right now. She will draw and think. To think and draw.
She worked like an obsessed woman. She finished one drawing and started the second. The models on paper reflected her thoughts - chaotic, contradictory, sometimes evil, but the next minute overflowing with hope and longing for love. And the result was amazing every time.
At first, Defne drew with a pencil, but then she wanted a riot of colors. There were no colored pencils on the table. She opened the top drawer of the table.
There were no pencils, but there were documents. Defne was about to close the drawer, as her eyes caught on her name. She picked up the paper and her heart tightened with painful memories. Two months of expectation and desperate hope ended with this - a statement in which Omer Iplikci requested that his marriage with Defne Topal be declared invalid. Then, two weeks ago, she could not read a single line. She just signed where the lawyer poked his finger. And now she read it. Carefully.
Omer Iplikci notifies the court that the marriage was not completed due to irreconcilable circumstances and asks to declare it invalid.
Void ... tears ran down her cheeks. Oh yeah! It is so - invalid. A ghostly deception in which the naive fool believed ...
Having wiped her face with her palms, Defne left her drawings on the table and, grabbing papers for divorce, left the office.
She laid them in the most prominent place - a low table in the living room. And then she picked up the tablet and plunged into the search. First work. While in the hospital, she made bookmarks of her offers of interest and now began to call the indicated numbers. With each call, her face darkened more and more. All employers asked for recommendations from their previous job, and Defne had no idea how to get them. After hesitating for a couple of minutes, she, not hoping for anything, nevertheless called Sinan. And she turned out to be right. He was very glad to hear the voice of precious Defne, but refused to satisfy her request and advised her to turn to Omer. Defne finished the call and dropped the phone onto the sofa. An inner voice told her that it would be practically impossible to get recommendations from Omer. And without recommendations, she will not get a decent job. Without work, she will not be able to leave this house and start a new life. Vicious circle.
"Defne," Zehra called from the kitchen. - The lunch is ready. Mr.Omer ordered me to follow your diet and be sure to make you dine.
The girl sighed. She would send the demands of Mr.Omer to hell, but she did not want to offend the good woman who worked to prepare dinner.
"Good, Sister Zehra," she agreed. "Only, if you will keep me company."
The woman smiled a friendly smile and nodded her head in agreement. They sat at the table, eating tarhana soup and talking quietly.
- Sister Zehra, health to your hands. It's delicious! Like my grandmother, "Defne praised.
"For good health, honey," the woman said. - Eat more. Look how thin you are. You were thin before, but now you are completely transparent.
- Aw! Do not exaggerate! - dismissed the girl and turned the conversation on another topic. - Better tell me how are your sons.
The woman smiled friendly and nodded her head in agreement.
- But what should they do? Study. Strive to be like Mr.Omer. Their father told them how he once met a boy on the street. He was thin, with hungry eyes, but proud. Sukru asked him to help replace the wheel on our old car with which he was delivering food for the street stalls. The boy agreed. All got dirty, - Zehra smiled warmly, - and Sukru called him to us. He refused, but my husband persuaded him to wash and have dinner with us. As a fee for help. The boy agreed. That evening I cooked dolma in beetroot leaves. Ah, how he ate! He said that this was his mother's favorite dish ... He had such a look at the same time ... I cried, - and now Zehra wiped away a tear with her palm. - And seven years later this boy, handsome, successful, came to our house and invited Sukru to work for him. Good work. And pays him much more than the salary of an ordinary driver.
Defne cried too. She saw a kid in front of her. Almost a boy. Lonely and heartbroken, but not beaten down. Proud. And this boy was so good that he did not forget the kindness of strangers and after many years paid off handsomely ... Omer was always kind and noble. Cold and restrained in appearance, he hid a warm heart in his chest and came to the aid of all who needed it. Then why was he so cruel to her? Why, after each of her mistakes, he cast her away like a stray kitten and left without looking back. And then, tormented, graciously allowed her to rush to his neck.
And she rushed. Dying of happiness and love, casting off pride, every time she ran to him. Strangled resentment in herself, justifying his behavior by the fact that she deserves it with her lie, humbled herself and gave herself all without a trace. To the last molecule. And what did this lead to? To the brink of death?
The voice of Zehra brought the girl from bitter thoughts:
-Defne, the soup is cooling down. I've been talking to you. You'll eat it, please. Don't offend me.
Defne smiled sadly at the woman and took up the spoon again.
"I'll prepare everything for dinner now and go home," continued Zehra.
- What would you rather like a kofte or kebab?
"I don't care," Defne answered aloof.
Zehra shook her head in condemnation but did not begin to climb into the soul. She said:
"Then kebab and tabule," and went into the kitchen.
And Defne went into the garden. She sat in the sun and, closing her eyes, set her face up. She remembered, analyzed, though, and again, with bitter despair, she concluded that together with Omer they are two poles that will not come together and become one.
***
Things in Passionis dragged on until the evening and Omer was incredibly angry. Defne did not pick up the phone, and he went crazy with anxiety and bad premonitions. He had to call Zehra. She assured him that Defne is doing well. Calming down a little, Omer set to work again.
The two-month absence at work of the creative director did not pass without a trace. A lot of cases and unresolved issues accumulated with which Omer, gritting his teeth in irritation, hurried to get even. September is just around the corner, and neither the concept of the collection nor the presentation has been even agreed upon.
- Derya! He barked into the receiver of the internal telephone.
After a couple of seconds, the door opened and the assistant, with a wary glance at the boss, entered the office.
"I'm listening, Mr.Omer ."
"Why can't I get through to Yasemin?" Shouted the boss angrily.
- Where is she?
Derya's face stretched in amazement. Blinking eyes and stuttering, she replied:
- B-b-but, Mr.Om-m-mer, Mrs.Yasemin, after all, left Passionis ...
- How did she leave? - he was taken aback. - Where?
"Um, I don't know," Derya shrugged, bewildered. - A month ago, she said goodbye to everyone and said she was leaving. Mr.Sinan was not himself for 2 weeks.
Crazy. It turns out that his friend also experienced a personal drama, and he went so deep into his emotions that he did not even ask why Yasemin couldn't be seen.
Getting up, Omer walked around Derya, who was standing in the middle of the office and hurried to Sinan's office. He just spoke on the phone and looked quite contented with life. Nodding to his partner to sit he hastened to end the conversation. As soon as he did this, Omer, ignoring the invitation to sit down, asked:
- Did you break up with Yasemin?
- Finally, gossip came to your ears? - Sinan smiled back. - Yes, we broke up.
- But why? After all, you were so in love!
His friend shrugged and answered with irony in his voice:
- It turned out that Yasemin and I imagine the family life differently. I dreamed about children but she about a career in the status of a married lady.
- Are you hurt? - Omer gazed intently into Sinan's face and finally sat down in a chair.
"First," Sinan honestly answered. "And then misfortune happened with Defne ... I looked at you and realized that my feelings, even for a tenth, are not the same as yours." I realized that my pride was hurt, and my heart was not broken. Now I understand that I did not love Yasemin. It was a fascination and admiration for a gorgeous woman, but not love.
Omer looked at him fixedly.
- What? Asked Sinan, discouraged.
"Why I think, when did you become so wise, brother?"
Sinan smiled and patted his shoulder.
- Probably, when you realized that love is more important than pride. How are you doing with Defne? - Asking, he mentally weighed whether it was worth talking about Defne's call or not. And he decided that it's not worth it. Let them decide between themselves.
Omer put his hand on his nape and ruffled his hair. He sighed heavily and shook his head.
"I see," Sinan said. - Give her some time. She's been through too much.
"I know," Omer agreed and stood on his feet. - I'm going. Still, we need to think about the concept. Or can I entrust this to Koray? He thoughtfully rubbed his chin and slapped his cheek. - Just not today. Otherwise, I won't get home.
Sinan broke into a contented and slightly mocking smile.
- What? - Omer was indignant.
- Aw! I do not believe my ears. Omer Iplikci hurries to escape from work.
"And what's so surprising?" I have a wife at home who have not yet fully recovered. I worry.
- And you miss her ! - cheerfully faked Sinan.
"And I miss her," Omer agreed and smiled wryly.
"Then what the hell are you still here ?" Fly to your Defne! And I take Koray upon myself. Let him think about the concept, "Sinan winked.
"You are a true friend," Omer got up from the chair and patted him on the shoulder.
Sinan's face tightened and became serious.
"Do you think so?" - he asked.
"True," Omer answered just as seriously.
"And you won't even ask why I did this?" - Sinan did not specify how. Yes, it was not necessary. Both understood what was at stake.
- Not. I won't ask. "I know that you didn't wish me harm - this is the main thing," Omer answered firmly.
Sinan's eyes sparkled suspiciously and his voice sounded low and hoarse when he said:
- You have changed.
"Life is a good teacher ... Okay, brother, I'm leaving." We'll have a meeting tomorrow and discuss the new collection. And now I'm running to melt the ice around Defne's heart. See you later.
Omer pronounced the last words already from the threshold.
"Run, run," Sinan shouted after him. - See you later!
Defne did not answer the call again. Angry at her stubbornness, Omer hid the phone in his jacket pocket and ordered Sukru:
- We'll go first to the supermarket.
- Decided to pamper Defne? - responded driver.
Omer saw in the rearview mirror how a smile on his face gave way to embarrassment and fear - he again got into his boss. But today, instead of freezing the faithful Sukru with a look, he smiled and answered:
- Yes.
With a paper bag in one hand and a huge bouquet in the other, Omer entered the house and looked around. It was quiet. And only the smell, sweet and bitter at the same time, so dear, said that Defne was somewhere nearby. Putting flowers and the bag on the kitchen counter, he went to look for her.
She sat in the office and enthusiastically painted something on a white sheet of paper. The blue shirt dress was so beautifully combined with shining copper hair that Omer involuntarily admired. Then his gaze caught on a stack of sheets lying on the table to the left.
"Hi," he greeted and came closer.
"Hello," she answered without raising her head or looking up from her occupation.
- How do you feel?
- Good.
Yes ... The thorns have become longer and sharper.
"Why didn't you answer the calls?" - Omer picked up the drawings but looked at Defne.
- The phone is on silent. I have not heard.
"Could you call back?"
- What for?
Her calmness got on his nerves. Taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly, Omer tried to soften his tone.
"Maybe because I'm worried?"
At last, she looked up at him. Impenetrable, empty and only in the depths flashed cold sparks.
- Don't, Omer.
She put down her pencil and got up from the table. Omer, not taking his eyes off her, mechanically laid the drawings on the table and straightened. They looked into each other's eyes. Dark fire and amber ice.
"I love you !!!" - shouted black.
"I do not believe ..." - answered brown.
"How can I convince you? What to do? Tell me I will do everything. Everything...
"Defne looked away and spoke:
"I have a request for you."
- Anything! Omer promised fervently.
- Write to me recommendations.
Omer froze. The eyebrows slowly converged on the nose.
- No! He firmly brushed off her words.
- Why ?! You promised! Said - anything!
- I take my words back. You have no reasonable desires.
Defne's pale cheeks flushed and her eyes narrowed in an angry frown. She became like a red-haired, excited, hissing kitten.
- I need recommendations!
- No.
- Is that your last word?
- Yes.
- Off!
Defne flew out of the office. Omer smiled wryly and took the drawings. He silently, one by one, considered the drawn shoe models. Then he lined the sheets neatly and placed them on the table.
Great!
Let her not even dream of leaving. Her place in Passionis. Next to him.
A beautiful bouquet, as perfect and flawless as the man who gifted it, stood in the middle of the dining table. Defne tried not to look at him. For some reason, one kind of purple and white freesias made the ice crust on her heart melt. And she didn't want to. She didn't want to become weak, vulnerable, dependent again. So she looked away and everywhere, just not at the flowers ... and not at Omer. Even in-home clothes, he was too good. Too beautiful. Too attractive. Too... a man.
At dinner, she sat down at the other end of the table, but that did not bother Omer at all. He picked up his plate and moved closer. His scent and heat, which radiated from his strong body, made her head spin. Defne, clenching her teeth, mentally cursed herself and leaned over the plate. Omer, watching her, smiled wryly. Cutting off a piece of fragrant kebab, he, as if by the way, uttered:
- I got an idea. How do you look at the shoes you've drawn to release as an exclusive collection of Defne Iplikci from Passionis?
Defne, phlegmatically chasing with the fork parsley on her plate, replied:
- I already told you - the drawings are yours. Do what you want with them. But you should not involve my name, and with your surname.
The knife and fork slammed against the plate. Omer's hands involuntarily clenched into fists.
"That's your last name too," he reminded her.
"No," said Defne. "it wasn't mine for a minute." Like you!
She looked boldly into his eyes. Red-haired hedgehog exposed his thorns.
- You are mistaken, - Omer was trying to keep calm, though everything was boiling and storming inside.
- Mistake? Daphne raised her eyebrows mockingly. But there was so much bitter despair in this mockery that Omer's heart sank.
She got up from the table and headed for the living room. Omer closed his eyes for a moment and clenched his jaw, and then went after her.
She stood near the table and held a familiar folder in her hands. Putting it in his hands, she went to the sofa and stopped there. In her voice, as she spoke а metal note rang:
"You chose a very precise wording for divorce - an invalid marriage." It is invalid. In all senses.
Omer stared blankly at the papers. Dying of fear for Defne's life, he completely forgot about them.
- Where did you find them?
- Is it important?
Omer looked at her. She stood straight, like a sword and as thin and strong. She looked boldly into his eyes and was no longer afraid, to tell the truth.
"Omer, if you are afraid that a divorce will kill me now, then don't be afraid." That will not happen. I stepped over the line. You can sign papers with a clear conscience and become free.
"Do you think I want this?" - not believing his ears, he asked in amazement. - Become free from you?"
Yes," she answered firmly. "And I want you to be honest — you sign the papers and end this void marriage.
"Omer's eyes lit in dark fire. His face darkened, his features sharpened and a predatory expression appeared on him. He took out the paper from the folder, and he casually threw it on the table.
"You're right," he said low. - Indeed, it is time to end with this invalid marriage.
Looking into Defne's eyes, with one movement of his hands he easily tore the papers and threw the scraps on the floor. Without taking his eyes off, he went up to her and, with one hand squeezing the back of her head, grabbed her by the waist with the other and pressed her close to his body.
- Forget everything. Let the past, with all our mistakes, go to hell. Now we are together and I will never let you go.
Defne's face twitched, her eyes filled with tears and shone with a warm light.
- I love you. More than life ...
Strength and tenderness sounded in his hoarse voice, and such unbending will and determination were reflected on his face that Defne believed. With all her heart. Her lips trembled in a timid smile. The former Defne, tearing to pieces the new one, rushed out of the icy shell, and it fell apart into tiny fragments. It was scary again. So scary and sweet ...
"I'm afraid ..." she whispered.
The firm hand relaxed, became tender and so strong. From the back of her head, it slipped to her beloved face, stroked her cheek, neck, and froze where the pulse was desperately beating.
- Don't be afraid. I'm with you. Now forever.
"Do you choose me?"
- Always, my love. In the past or the future, always only you.
Her trembling smile widened. Tears nevertheless burst from the eyes, but they were not bitter. Omer wiped them with his thumbs and covered her appealing face with soft kisses. But when the kiss touched her lips, the softness disappeared. It transformed into a fiery passion, into a desperate need to love, and undisguised, hungry desire.
Breaking away from her lips, Omer grabbed his wife in his arms and carried her to the stairs. Legs went over the steps, and eyes looked into others, beautiful ... beloved, who shone like dark honey in the sun and looked just as sweet.
In the bedroom, he stopped. Carefully put the precious burden on the floor and enveloping her with a look, he asked:
- Do you understand?
Defne nodded.
- Forgive me...
- For what?
"It should have been different."
Omer touched the buttons on her shirt dress. Unbuttoning one by one, he whispered hoarsely in her ear:
"I would unbutton your beautiful white dress, and then I would take it off ... Like this. "
He lowered the blue cotton from the porcelain shoulders shining in the dark, pulled it on her hands and threw it to the floor. Then he laid Defne's hands on his chest.
"And you would have unbuttoned my shirt ..."
She obediently released the button from the eyelet, the second, third ... Omer yanked his shirt, tearing it from his hands. It flew after Defne's dress. Swarthy skin tightly wrapped the muscles of the chest and broad shoulders. They writhe and beckoned to touch. Defne pressed trembling palms to them and, spreading her fingers, ran them across the chest to his shoulders.
Omer groaned. He pulled her to him and greedily slid his hands over her graceful body.
"I would kiss you ... and love ... like that ..."
He pressed his lips to her mouth and Defne died. There was nothing and no one but Omer. He was the heart in her chest, the consciousness in her head. He was butterflies in her stomach and the air she breathed.
He was everything ...
This night was all ... all life ...
The bed gently caved in under the weight of the bodies and the night covered them, hid them in it's blue, caught moans and hoarse confessions and hid them between the stars ...
It took ages or a moment, they did not know. They lay, entwined with bodies and dying of happiness.
"I love you," Omer said quietly.
"I love you," Defne echoed.
He laughed happily and pressed his cheek against the fiery silk of her hair.
In the morning, Omer woke up filled with happiness to the brim. He felt calm and complete, ready to roll mountains with his bare hands. Stretching, he rolled onto his side and looked at the source of his happiness, energy, and life itself. She was sleeping on her stomach, hiding her hands under the pillow and turning her pretty face to him. A blush was on her cheeks, and her skin regained its usual color of snow-white, expensive porcelain. Beauty! How he loved her. Up to madness.
Gently touching his lips to her bare shoulder, he quietly got out of bed and hurried into the shower. When the door closed behind him, a happy smile appeared on Defne's sweet face. She opened her eyes and leaned back. Allah! How happy she is! Every cell and molecule of her body. Laughing quietly, she stretched out like a well-fed cat and sat in bed.
The phone rang almost inaudibly and Defne looked around for the sound. A gray metal rectangle with a luminous screen lay on the bedside table from Omer's side. She reached out and took it.
Her heart sank. She looked at the face displayed on the screen and felt the light fade before her eyes.