Why?! Why?! Why?!!!
Clutching his head in his hands, Omer repeated the same question again and again and could not find an answer to it.
After all, yesterday she took a step. She forgave him. She believed him. She gave herself to him. She said she loves him...
When did the crisis happen? When did everything change?
Omer feverishly thought over every moment, starting from last night. And did not find anything that could make Defne leave. Nothing but the call from Iz.
But Defne couldn't have been jealous of her, could she? After all, he made it clear that he did not care about Iz, and she believed. Or not?
And where is she now? Where could she go?
Omer rose from his knees and sat on the sofa. Again he tried to call Defne but to no avail. Her phone was silent. Then he called Nihan.
"Ale," she answered warily.
- Nihan, is Defne with you? - forgetting to say hello, blurted Omer.
"No," Nihan said after a moment's pause.
"Do you know where she is?" - the girl was silent and Omer shouted into the phone: - Nihan !!!
- Don't shout at me! I am pregnant! - came the indignant response, and he heard short sobs.
Well now...
- Ок! I'm sorry, - Omer pulled himself together and tried to speak calmly.
"Nihan, if you know where Defne is, tell me."
"I can't," she answered stubbornly. - Defne will kill me. And she won't look at his nephew.
Omer closed his eyes and mentally counted to five, and then went on to blackmail:
"Nihan, I'm freaking out and losing my mind with anxiety." If you don't tell me, I will come to you and sit there until I find out where my wife is.
- What else! - the girl was indignant. - Grandmother Turkan doesn't know anything. Do you want to kill the woman? Defne is fine. She rented an apartment and intends to start a new life. Without you," she added sharply.
The last phrase hit the mark. His eyes darkened and his voice trembled:
- Nihan, please. I can't live without Defne ...
"How was Defne without you?" - leaving a moody tone, Nihan asked seriously. "You left and didn't even think if Defne could live without you?" She sat on the balcony for two months, looked at the road and waited. Did not eat, did not speak, did not hear anyone. Just waited. And now you say that you can't live without her? So try it! Maybe you'll understand how she felt.
There were short beeps in the receiver. Omer bowed his head and pressed the phone to his forehead. Cold metal cooled his skin, but not thoughts. He left her after the wedding and departed. He rushed with his pride and resentment and left Defne waiting ...
Now she was gone and he had no choice but to wait ... and search for her. Quench his pride and knock on all doors.
And he knocked.
Iso sent him away.
Serdar was more polite. But, like his wife, he did not give an address. He just said that Defne is fine.
Sukru, Zehra, Sinan - none of them knew where Defne had gone. At the request of Omer, they tried to call her, but she did not pick up the phone.
He even turned to the police, but there he was told that since the lady had left herself, there was no crime and it was not in their competence to deal with such a matter.
He wandered around Istanbul, squeezing out of the SUV everything that the iron monster was capable of. But all to no avail.
Exhausted and broken Omer returned home. He sat on the floor in the living room and began to bombard her voicemail with messages. He sent dozens of them.
He asked her: why? He apologized if he unwittingly offended her. He swore in his love for her. Begged her to return. He said that he could not live without her ... breathe without her. That she is the meaning of his life.
But all the messages flew into the void ...He went upstairs and entered the bedroom. Without undressing, lay down on the bed and buried his face in Defne's pillow. It smelled of her ... smelled of love and happiness ... smelled of life. Omer clenched his fists and groaned.
***
Defne entered a small but clean office. At the table, facing the door, sat a young, handsome man in a decent suit and tie. He looked about twenty-five years old, no more. He raised his head to the knock of a closed door and smiled at the girl who had entered.
"Good afternoon," Defne said. "Can I see the lawyer?"
The guy's smoothly shaven cheeks turned pink, he got up from the table and extended his hand to Defne.
"The lawyer is me." Kerem Yilmaz.
Surprised Defne mechanically shook his outstretched hand and innocently blurted out:
- So young and already a lawyer.
The blush of the guy became even thicker, but the behavior remained calm and confident.
"It happens," he pointed to a chair on the other side of the table.
- Have a seat. What's your name and what brings you to me?
Defne clutched her fingers at the handbag strap. Knuckles turned white. She was scared, terrified to say out loud what her mind had decided. As if after this there will come a point of no return and something very important, necessary, will disappear forever.
She looked at the young lawyer. He seemed so balanced and a little naive as if his heart never knew torment and suffering. Never been broken by love.
His bright blue eyes looked at Defne with genuine interest. He saw her inner hesitation and waited patiently while she gathered her thoughts.
- My name is Defne Topal ... Iplikci. "I want to file for a divorce," she blurted out.
The lawyer's eyebrows went up to his forehead and his eyes flicked to the girl's left finger.
- You are married? He exclaimed in amazement, and immediately stopped himself. Eyebrows returned to their place. - Sorry. Tell me more about your marriage and the reasons you want to get a divorce.
Defne frowned.
- Is it necessary?
"Otherwise, I cannot fully help you."
"You are probably right," Defne agreed and briefly described the situation: she made an unforgivable mistake, and her husband left her on the wedding day.
The lawyer listened carefully and asked:
"Are you sure that there is no chance for reconciliation?"
Defne looked down at the floor. The sunset beam penetrating the window through the horizontal blinds crawled along the shabby but washed to shine, beige tiles. It was funny, mischievous, and warm. It hastened to enjoy the summer evening and did not bother that it would soon go out, and in its place darkness would come. After all, it knew - tomorrow, as soon as the sun rises above the horizon, it will appear again and will warm the whole world with its cheerful, golden light. Defne smiled sadly. Ah, if Omer's love was as constant as the sun. If her soul believed that after night the dawn would come and all quarrels and partings would disappear with the darkness ...
"I'm pretty sure," she answered softly, but firmly.
- Then I will immediately deal with documents. Madam Defne, leave me your phone number. When the papers are ready, I will call you to stop by and sign them. Then I will pay a visit to your husband. If he signs the documents, everything will end rather quickly and there will be no need for your presence at the court.
- And if he doesn't sign it? Defne's voice faltered.- If he doesn't sign it, then there will be a trial and you will be required to attend the meeting. But since your husband left you right after the wedding and your marriage, in fact, never became valid, I am sure the court will make a positive decision for you.
It did not become valid ... These words made her cringe. Allah! She cannot admit that this same marriage became valid even before the wedding.
Yes, and after the wedding too. Remembering the night before, Defne blushed, but she said firmly:
- In any case, my decision will not change.
"Ms. Defne, my obligation as a lawyer is to protect your interests." Whatever the circumstances, I will always be on your side.
"Thank you," Defne stood up and threw the handbag strap over her shoulder.
"Your fee ..."
"We'll talk about this when I prepare the documents," the lawyer also got up from the table.
Defne nodded, said goodbye and headed for the door.
- Madame Defne! - called out the young man. She looked around. "Do you live in this area?"
- Yes, I moved today.
The lawyer smiled shyly.
- It's getting late. And it's not safe here. Let me take you home.
"Thank you, but there's no need." I grew up in such a neighborhood and I can stand up for myself. Besides, I still have things to do. Goodbye.
Defne went out of the door and went straight to the stationery store. There, along with a package of drawing paper, she bought a set of pencils and went to her new home.
It was already completely dark outside. Rare lanterns illuminated the desert street in yellow. Defne walked deep in her thoughts when two imposing figures blocked her path.
"Mehmet, look what kind of chick we have in the area," sang one squeaky voice."
"Beauty," the second agreed and, spreading his arms, began to advance on Defne. "How do you look to take a walk with the King?"
Although everything inside her trembled with fear, Defne proudly lifted her chin and cast an impudent gaze on the brazen boy.
"Is it you, the king?" She asked mockingly.
"Doesn't it look like that?" - the guy grinned.
"Nope," Defne answered confidently. "You look more like a clown."
The first grunted and froze with bulging eyes and an open mouth, and the second, the one who called himself the King, admirably declared:
- You are brave! I love those.
"I would like to say such a thing about you, but ..." Defne looked down at the guy, "I do not like men in dirty shoes." So - walk without me. And let's go aside. I'm in a hurry.
Defne wanted to pass by, but the guy grabbed her hand above the elbow.
- Mehmet! - the voice familiar to Defne sounded calm, but a warning was heard in it. - Let go of the girl.
The guy immediately complied and raised his hands with his palms forward.
- Kerem, everything is fine. We just wanted to meet a new neighbor.
The lawyer stopped next to Defne.
- Polite people meet girls in the afternoon.
- Got it! We'll disappear, "Mehmet tugged at the sleeve of his friend, and both evaporated as if they were never there.
"And you, it turns out, has an authority," Defne said after looking at the trail of the local hooligans.
- Respect for the profession. I am the only lawyer in the area and my services are in great demand, - the irony was heard in the guy's voice. But it disappeared when he uttered the following phrase. "Mrs. Defne, I insist." Let me take you home.
Defne looked around the deserted street. The darkness grew thicker and seemed sinister and unfriendly.
"Good," she agreed. "Don't call me Madame." Just Defne.
- Agreed. Then you call me Kerem. The girl nodded and smiled. Her smile was sad but so beautiful that the guy caught his breath. He held out his hand and suggested:
- Give me your purchases. There is no need for a beautiful girl to carry heavy bags.
Defne didn't argue. She gave the package and the two of them walked silently along the street.
Kerem led her home, and when she went inside and locked the door behind her, went to the intersection and quietly called:
- Mehmet!
The guys inaudibly stepped out of the darkness.
"The girl is under my protection." Tell everyone. To Mrs. Defne only respectful attitude.
- Don't worry, brother! The whole neighborhood will treat her like a queen, "Mehmet promised and winked. - What, you're falling for this girl?
Kerem smiled wryly and, waving a goodbye, went to his house.
Defne stood by the window and looked at the dark, night sky.
One ... all alone. In a room, in an apartment ... in the whole world.
She couldn't pretend, and not mask her real feelings with indifference and coldness ...
She allowed herself to cry ... and admit to herself that Omer is her soul. Cutting off the soul is so painful ...
In the next couple of days, Defne was looking for work, and Omer was looking for Defne. Both were haunted by failure.
Defne sent out resumes, called on announcements, came to offices and met with the HR department. But all efforts were in vain. Each employer demanded a recommendation from her former working place. Hearing that she doesn't have them, without hesitation pointed the girl to the door. She even, having gathered pride in a fist, decided to go to Mano r-t, but Mr.Ryza did not want to see the problematic waitress.
In the evenings, Defne returned home and, in order not to fall completely into despair, sat down to draw. New models appeared from under her pencil. Beautiful, unusual, stylish ... that no one needs.
Omer searched for her in Istanbul every day. Appearing in the office for a couple of hours in the morning, he solved urgent problems, let go of Sukru, got behind the wheel and drove along the narrow Istanbul streets. He was looking everywhere for his Defne. Favorite cafes, parks, even markets in her neighborhood. He asked waiters and street sellers about her. But they only shook their heads. For a long time, no one had seen the funny red-haired Defne.
The last destination every day was the seafront. He parked at the curb, sat on the Defne bench and waited for her to appear. When the sun was hiding behind the horizon and the sky above the Channel turned blue-red, he rose, got into the car and drove home. And there, in order not to go crazy, he drew all night. Each new drawing was a worship of a woman, at whose feet lies the whole world. Adoration of Defne.
Iz flew in from Marseille and immediately got into work. Together with Sinan and Koray, they, half-heartedly, agreed on a concept and began preparations for the presentation. Omer gave them a full carte blanche for the activity and did not intervene in anything. He sank head-on into his grief and longing for his little red-haired angel. He slept very little and ate practically nothing. He kept on a double espresso and bagels ... After all, Defne loved eating bagels so much.
He forbade Zehra from changing bedding on the bed. After all, it smelled of Defne. And this scent helped him not to lose his mind and not to fall into the abyss of despair.
He repeated the messages to her voicemail again and again. He talked about his love. Like then, in the hospital, when she was in a coma. And each time with pain in his heart he realized that his confession would again remain unheard.
And he wanted, more than anything, he wanted Defne to hear ... and returned to him.
***
The days passed. And with every new day, Defne's hopes for a decent job melted, and with it her meager savings. She was saving on everything, but with horror, she understood that there was no point in it.
One morning, Fikret called. Defne's heart sank from an unpleasant foreboding. It turned out, not in vain.
Having paid courtesy of short "Hello!" And "How are you?", the ex-girlfriend went to the point:
- Defne, I'm calling about your debt. I don't want to rush you, but Tranba called me. He insists on its return as soon as possible. And now I am tight with money. The village for orphans takes the lion's share of my earnings ...
"I understand, Fikret," Defne interrupted. - Don't worry, I'll pay Back Mr. Denise."
- Well! - agreed Fikret. "Then I will tell Tranba, let him contact you."
Fikret completed the call, and Defne remained seated, grasping her throat with both hands. Again, these damned two hundred thousand TL were like a sword of Damocles hanging over her head. Will there come a day when she will become free from all debts?
And like a mockery of fate, on the same day, Defne saw an announcement that Tranba's company needed young designers. Defne hated the idea of working for such an unprincipled person, but there was no choice.
She wore a formal gray suit, stilettos, and a turquoise top blouse. She took her drawings and resolutely went to the office of Tranba.
On her soul was dreary. She realized - Omer, learning about her decision, would never understand it and wouldn't forgive her working for Tranba's. But that no longer mattered. She still had no other choice.
She was denied. Again. The girl in the personnel department, learning that Defne had no recommendations, unceremoniously pointed her at the door.
Immersed in her gloomy thoughts, seeing nothing in front of her, Defne went out into the corridor and ran into a tall man. From the blow, the folder flew out of her hands and the drawings scattered across the floor.
"Sorry," Defne grunted and, crouching, began to collect the drawings.
- Defne? - the voice was familiar. Too familiar.
She looked up. Denise Trаnba, in his own right, stood and astonished looked at her. Dealing with surprise, he squatted down and helped Defne collect the scattered papers, but was in no hurry to give them back. He carefully examined each drawing and an avid gleam appeared in his eyes.
- Is this your work? He asked the girl.
"Yes," she rose to her feet and pulled the drawings toward her.
He followed but was in no hurry to give it. He held them tightly and carefully examined Defne's face.
- What are you doing here?
- I came for an interview about work. But they refused me. I am already leaving.
- Wait! - Tranba held her forearm and turned her toward the door from which she had just stepped out. - Let's go.
The girl in the office, seeing the boss on the threshold, got to her feet and greeted. Tranba nodded and asked sternly:
"Ozge, why did you refuse Mrs. Defne?"
"Nnnn, no recommendations," the girl stammered.
- What recommendations ?! Shouted Tranba in response. "Have you seen her drawings?" This is Defne Topal! Defne Topal !!! She doesn't need recommendations.
The girl's chin trembled and her eyes filled with tears.
"But, there is a written order." Do not accept anyone without job recommendations ...
"Did you hear me?" - in the voice of Tranba sounded a threat.
- Immediately appoint Ms. Defne on the position of the leading designer.
Ozge quickly nodded her head and, falling on a chair, hastened to carry out the order. Tranba looked at his new designer and nodded his head at the door:
- Defne, let's go to my office.
She silently obeyed and went out into the corridor.
In his office, the new boss pointed the girl to a visitor chair, and he sat down in his place. Defne looked around. The interior shouted about the wealth of the owner. Everything was too much. Too trendy design, too expensive furniture, too pretentious decor items. And in the most prominent place - a glass cube in which on elegant stands stood two models of shoes - scarlet "Love" and black "The Bitterness of Love". The same ones that were drawn by Omer, the designs of which Tranba stole from Sinan. Defne hastily averted her eyes from them. This gesture did not go unnoticed by the boss. He grinned wryly and said:
"I'm not proud of my actions, Defne." But this is a business. His rules are cruel. Or you, or they.
"Omer wouldn't do that," Defne protested.
"Perhaps," Tranba agreed. - But such as Omer are few. His talent gives him a head start and a position of unattainable magnitude. In such a situation, it's easy, to be honest. And what should ordinary mortals do in the face of fierce competition?
Defne said nothing. Without waiting for her answer, Tranba nodded to these shoes and continued:
- The time for these models has expired. Soon they will be replaced by others, - he took up the drawings of Defne. - These. Defne, your talent is not inferior to that of Omer, and I am delighted that Tranba's company has you for a designer. I promise - your work will be rewarded very generously.
He named an amount from which Defne was a little taken aback. With such a salary, even a debt of two hundred thousand can be returned for a short time. Defne said:
- Mr. Denise, we have one more topic. The debt of Fikret Galo ... or rather mine. Let's discuss the schedule according to which I can return it to you.
Tranba was not at all surprised by this turn of the conversation. Excitement flashed in his eyes.
"It is possible to repay a debt much easier," he said.
Defne's face tensed. Noticing this, Tranba laughed briefly and reassured the girl:
- Don't be afraid. It's about work and nothing more. In October, Milan will host the European Shoe Festival. This is a great event. Only one participant will travel from Turkey. Now the committee is conducting a competition for this participant. All applicants are preparing a presentation of eight pairs of shoes under the general concept: "The world at the feet of a woman." Defne, let's conclude a contract - if you draw models with which Tranba will win this competition, the debt will be closed.
Defne was dizzy. To compete with the best shoe designers in Turkey and Omer himself? How is this possible? After all, she is nobody.
А beginner in design.
But risk promised freedom ...
And killed the last hope for the future with Omer ...
Defne decided.
She looked into the eyes of Denise Trаnba and firmly answered:
- I agree.
He beamed with a jubilant smile:
- Well! I will order our lawyer to draw up a contract. You'll get to work tomorrow. And now, come with me, to introduce you to my colleagues and show you your office.
***
- Here!
Omer threw on Sinan's table a bright orange folder with the Passionis logo. Sinan looked incredulously at his friend's haggard face and took the folder in his hands. He slowly examined the sketches and with each new drawing, his face changed. An alarmed expression melted, and in its place came glee and pure delight. Putting the last drawing on the table, he looked at Omer and smiled broadly, tapped the victorious melody with his palms on the table, and then said in delight:
- You are a genius! No one in Turkey can beat Omer Iplikci! Victory is in our pocket.
Omer did not answer a word. He just nodded and left the office.
The satisfied smile slowly slipped from Sinan's face. He looked after his friend and his heart was contracting with pity for him.
Omer was dying.
Sinan saw this clearly, but he couldn't do anything. Only one person in the world could save Omer. More precisely, one woman. Defne. But she disappeared into Istanbul among millions of people and did not want to see or hear anyone.
***
It was an August morning. Fresh and bright. People going out of the houses on the street and, before joining the stream of passers-by, stood still for a minute, bewitched by the magic of the morning sun.
And only Omer didn't notice either bright colors or the warm kisses of the sunbeams, reflecting from the windows. He sat in the back seat of the car and looked out the window. Like all previous days, he looked out among the passers-by for a bright redhead woman with a flying gait who was his most bitter torment and the greatest happiness.
The phone vibrated in his pocket. Iz called. Once again, she said in a guilty voice that the taxi was completely blocked and if Omer didn't pick her up, she would be late for work. Having ordered Sukru to stop at the hotel to take Iz, Omer stared out the window again. Peering intently at passers-by, he mentally decided today to speak with Sinan about how to allocate a car to the new creative director. He did not want companions. Not in the mornings, nor in the evenings. He didn't want to talk to anyone, he didn't want to see anyone. Especially Iz.
On her first working day, Defne almost ran to the skyscraper that housed Tranba's office. The road was familiar to her to the smallest detail. For a whole year, she was passing on this gray, perfectly laid tiles. The building where she was going was next to the one from the sight of which she received a sweet and painful pain in her chest. She allowed herself to stop for a moment and raise her eyes to the windows of the seventeenth floor. She looked sadly at the rectangle windows, reflecting the sun's rays, then she lowered her gaze down and froze. A painfully familiar car stopped ahead of her. The helpful Sukru got out of it and hastened to open the back door. The one who was her life got out of the car slowly. Omer looked tired, but the same as before, incomparably beautiful and immaculate. A close loved man.
Defne looked at him and felt that she was ready to forget everything. Her pride, the arguments of reason, that he will never love her the way she wants it. The fact that he took off his ring and went to his ex. At all and all. She didn't care. Just to see him, to breathe the same air with him...
She took a step forward and called:
"Ome ..."
His name stuck in her throat.
Iz, beautiful and self-confident, beaming with a sparkling smile, got out of the car and hurried to follow Omer. She said something to him, and he bowed his head and listened. Again Defne was dying. She looked at this perfect couple and realized that they fit together. Both are beautiful, confident, successful. Prince and Princess. And she was Cinderella, who dared to dream that she could be equal to the prince and had the right to his love ... Silly, stupid, Cinderella!
The phone rang. Defne mechanically brought it to her ear and said:
- I'm listening.
- Defne, good morning! This is Kerem. I'm calling to say that I'm bringing to your husband the divorce document to sign. Have you changed your mind?
She looked at Omer's broad back ... his bowed head ... laughing Iz and her fine profile ... The ice crust closed around her heart.
"No," she said firmly and ended the conversation.
Spreading her shoulders, proudly raising her chin, she turned and went to where her place was now - in Tranba's company.
Omer signed the last document in the folder and angrily shoved it away. Where did the days go when work pleased him? It was annoying now. The piles of documents were infuriating, and persistent visitors aroused his only desire - to strangle them. And along with the sluggish Derya. Why has she still not announced to him the schedule of the day? He was about to call the secretary to his office, as she entered and shrugging her shoulders, froze at the threshold.
- Well! Omer barked at her. "Have you forgotten how to speak?"
She looked bewildered. Her lips moved, but her voice was so quiet that Omer could not make out a word. What is the matter with her? Is this Derya?
- Speak louder! He ordered.
- Mr. Omer, a visitor has come. Kerem Yilmaz. He hasn't been appointed, but he says that he is Defne's lawyer.
It was like he was hit in the head. His eyes darkened. He tried to breathe, but the air didn't want to enter the lungs.
- Mr. Omer! Mr. Omer! Are you feeling bad? Shall I call a doctor?
- frightened Derya pulled his hand.
With difficulty breathing in, he sat up straight in his chair and ordered her:
- Let him in five minutes. Derya, like a dummy, nodded her head and instantly evaporated.
Omer frowned and covered his face with his hands.
Lawyer? Allah! What are you doing, Defne?