Omer stood on the doorstep of the hotel and looked with heavy eyes at his wife's footprint. He didn't know what he would do if she got into the car of Tranba or the disgusting Kivanc. He wouldn't stand it. He will not stand it. He will spit on decency and, like a jealous owner, will pull Defne out of the car, will throw her over his shoulder and carries her to him.
But fate was good to him. Or maybe the other way around ... but Defne didn't sit in the flashy expensive Porsche, and not in the pretentious Mazda, but in the bright yellow small car, which Seda Berensel was driving. Exhaling lightly, he, having forgotten about his companions, hastily went to his Мercedes. Sinan looked at him knowingly, Korai - offended, and Iz ...Iz sighed sadly and offered the sniffing photographer to give him a lift home.
Omer, hastily climbing into the back seat, ordered Sukru
- Drive behind the yellow car.
He started off and obediently followed the stylish small car which drove towards the Bosphorus and parked in the parking lot of an inexpensive fish restaurant. The girls left the car and took a table on the outdoor terrace overlooking the Bosphorus. Omer ordered Sukru to drop him off at the restaurant, leave the car in the parking lot and go home.
Visitors to the restaurant and just passers-by were staring in surprise at the representative car and no less representative, expensively dressed, handsome man who entered the summer terrace.
Omer stopped at the door, looked around the tables set under the tiled canopy, and confidently headed towards the one at which the two beautiful girls were sitting. Silently he pushed back his chair and sat down next to the redhead.
Defne looked at him and in a silent question raised her right eyebrow.
"I decided to have dinner with my wife and her dear friend," Omer answered casually, which caused Seda a knowing smile, and Defne had an angry blush. Ignoring her displeasure, he called the waiter with a click of his fingers and, while the guy was walking to their table, asked: "Have you already made the order?"
Defne silently turned away, examining the gulls diving over the strait, and Seda nodded.
"Fine," Omer turned to the waiter who had approached and nodded to the girl sitting next to him.
"The same thing my wife ordered for me too."The guy marked something in his notebook and left.
Defne snorted mockingly.
- Omer Iplikci is going to eat in an ordinary restaurant Balik ekmek? Holy heaven! It will snow in Istanbul tomorrow.
- Did you order a Balik ekmek? Omer asked disappointedly.
"Exactly," Defne confirmed. Turning her head slightly, she squinted at her husband. "But you can still cancel the order, go to Lunch r-t and order yourself a lobster there."
"Thank you for the care, love," Omer took her hand and brought it to his lips. Kissing her knuckles lightly, he laid her cool hand on his knee and covered with his. - If you and Seda keep me company - with pleasure.
- What else! - Defne was indignant. She pulled out her hand and laid it on the table. - We are quite happy with this restaurant and the Balik ekmek for dinner.
"Then I will also have dinner with fish in the bread," Omer agreed easily.
Seda, folding her arms over her chest and leaning back in the chair, was looking at the couple tossing sharp remarks at each other. She smiled slyly - they were so sweet and in love.
Defne squinted angrily at her husband, and then averted her eyes. But their brilliance and the delicate blush on her face, which replaced the transparent pallor, betrayed her. Still, she frowned and stubbornly held a mask of proud indifference. Unlike her, Omer did not try to hide his feelings. He looked at Defne with such a look from which even Seda's heart was trembling. And this stone heart girl does not understand where to look and what she is thinking about. Eh ... If only someone looked at her, Seda, like that ...
And the stone heart girl was silently horrified at what was going on with her heart. From the slightest movement of Omer, his scent, the sound of his velvet voice, the gently, as if by accident touches, her heart either fell down with like a stone, then frantically beat in the temples, then with crazy force hit the ribs. Defne could only pray that these treacherous somersaults would not be heard by the culprit for her state.
It seemed to her - the air around sparks with tension and one wrong word or gesture is enough to make it glow with a blue flame. Therefore, when the boy-waiter brought their order, she saw in him her savior and smiled broadly. The young man has blushed from such a radiant smile and his mouth involuntarily sprawled in a reply, stupidly admiring, which was wiped out as soon as he noticed the cold look of the companion of the beautiful girl. The man looked at him point-blank and a warning was read in his eyes. The boy quickly arranged the dishes on the table, wished them a pleasant appetite and evaporated. Omer smiled wryly and happily bit off a large piece from his Balik ekmek.
Silence reigned at the table for some time. All three silently ate their dinner. Defne nervously, Omer leisurely, and Seda was enjoying every bite. It was she who broke the silence. Having wiped her lips with a napkin, she asked Omer:
"You are Defne's husband." How did you let her go to work for your competitors? With her talent.
Omer lost his appetite. He put on the plate an unfinished Balik ekmek and, looking at his wife, answered:
- I did not allow it. I only today learned about it. Defne is sometimes very stubborn and secretive.
"Who would say," Defne was indignant. - Omer Iplikci, who hides his feelings and thoughts behind seven locks.
"That was before," he objected. - I changed.
Defne grunted skeptically and sarcastically said:
- What are you saying? If your words are true, then Iz will be delighted with such changes.
- Who is Iz? - Seda asked livelily.
"Omer's first and only love," Defne answered. "You saw her today." The Creative Director of Passionis.
Seda's eyes went wide. She looked incredulously at first at the frowning Omer, then at her friend, and specified:
"Your husband's ex-girlfriend works in his company?"
"It's me, the former," Defne said with bitter irony. - And Iz is a very real one.
Omer gasped at her words. The former? Defne - the former? How can she say that? His hand clenched into a fist, and the eyes on the instantly darkened face flashed with anger.
"Seda, don't listen to her," he said to the girl. - The aforesaid is just Defne's fantasies that are separated from reality. Iz - is my childhood friend and nothing more.
Defne only grinned wryly. Did Omer call her a dreamer? However, nothing new. He never took her thoughts and words seriously.
Seda didn't smile anymore. Only now, looking into Defne's face, she realized that there was an abyss between the spouses. She felt sorry for both of them, but, having long since lost her naivety, she understood that life does not at all look like a beautiful fairy tale with a happy ending. It is sometimes cruel and inexorable. It breaks a person and makes him pass seven circles of hell. The phone rang in her purse. Seda took it out and looked at the screen. Her face turned pale. She instantly accepted the call and brought the phone to her ear. As she listened, she turned pale all the more and threw short phrases into the phone:
- When did it happen? ... did they call an ambulance? ... I'm going ... Mom, do not dare to cry and scare Nisa with tears. Tell her everything will be fine.
Throwing the phone in her purse, Seda looked at her companions. A feverish fire of fear and despair burned in her eyes. Defne stroked her shoulder and asked anxiously:
- What happened?
- Nisa ... She's worse. I need to go, "she got up from her seat and began fumbling in her purse in search of a purse.
Omer stopped her.
"I'll pay the bill," he said confidently. - Don't waste time. Can you drive a car? Can I give you a lift?
Seda shook her head. A bewildered look gave way to firm determination.
- Not. I will drive myself. Thank you. See you.
"I'll call you in the evening," Defne promised.
Seda nodded and forcedly smiled back. Then she grabbed her purse and quickly left the restaurant. Omer asked Defne:
- Who is Nisa?
"Seda's sister," she answered, and got up from the table.
- What with her? - Omer put a bill on the table, which more than covered the cost of their meal, and, carefully holding Defne's elbow, led her to the exit.
"I don't know," Defne answered. - Seda didn't say. I only know that she is red-haired and Seda loves her very much.
"It turns out we have a lot in common with her," Omer muttered quietly.
- What? Asked Defne.
- Just thoughts aloud. Don't pay attention to it. "He stopped and looked into the bottomless amber eyes. - Defne, let's sit on the promenade. Just sit. Please.
"Not!!! - shouted her mind. - Do not dare!!!"
"Good," she agreed.
Omer sighed. His palms were itchy from the desire to touch her, to take her hand, but the fear that Defne would push him away overpowered him. He smiled affectionately at her and slowly walked beside her.
The sun was approaching sunset, and the hot heat of the day gave way to evening coolness. Defne sat down on a bench and, closing her eyes, turned her face to the light breeze. She asked the wind to dispel her heavy thoughts and restore her ability to enjoy the small things. Defne with all her heart wanted to feel free from pain, jealousy, and resentment.
Omer crouched beside her. He looked at her pretty face and the dark-red eyelashes and in his chest, his heart quivered. He leaned closer, touched the soft strands with his fingers and asked:
- Defne, let's go home.
The serene expression faded from her face. She opened her eyes and in their depths reflected an endless sadness."
-This is your home, Omer." Only yours.
"No," he shook his head. - You are my wife. All that is mine is yours.
Her eyes became cold and impenetrable. Defne moved to the edge of the bench and said:
- Empty words. The truth is completely different. I have no home. No husband. There is no family. There is nothing.
A spasm tightened his throat and made Omer's voice low and hoarse.
- Do not say that.
Defne leaned forward and wrapped her arms around herself. She stared blankly at the dark waters of the Bosphorus and indifferently agreed:
- As you wish.
Omer reached for her hand. He almost touched her narrow back, but at the last moment, he clenched his hand into a fist.
"Are you still angry with your grandmother?"
- Not. Do I have a right to this? She did as she should. Besides me, there is Serdar with Nihan and their unborn son ... and, of course, Esra. They should not suffer because of my mistakes. The neighborhood can be very cruel to those who stumble.
"Have you visited them?"
Defne shook her head.
- I only call sometimes. I say that everything is fine.
Omer lowered his head. How hard it is to hear it. Defne's pain and resentment burned him with fire.
"I know why you left ..." she looked back and fear flashed in her eyes. But Omer did not see it. He looked into the ground and continued to say: "For the same reason why I left on our wedding day ... Lies ... I lied to you." I made a mistake and then wanted to protect you from pain ... you, like no other, should understand me.
- I understand ... But our stories are different. I lied but always chose you. And you ... You chose Passionis, Iz, your pride ... but not me. Perhaps you are attached to me in your way, but this is not loving.
"Why do you think so ?!" Cried Omer desperately.
"You took off the ring and left to Iz." Deliberately or unconsciously - it does not matter. You went to her. Just to her. And now you took her to work. ... Your soul reaches out to her, Omer. I understand and accept this. But don't expect me to agree again to be a silent shadow and a second best. I want to be the only one. The most important, the most necessary ... - Defne looked at her watch. - Soon my bus comes. I have to go. See you on Monday.
She got up from the bench, put the handbag strap over her shoulder, and without looking back went to the bus stop on the other side of the road.
"You're the only one," she heard behind and stopped for a moment. There were tears in her eyes and a lump in her throat. - The most important and most necessary!
She swallowed, stubbornly pressed her lips and went forward.
Words ... these are just words.
At home, shutting the door behind her, Defne leaned back against it and covered her face with her hands. How much she wanted to succumb to Omer's words, to pretend that she believed them, to rush into this love with her heart and eagerly catch the crumbs that he agreed to give her.
Only she will be doomed.
She will be lost in it, dissolve without a trace and disappear as a person. Defne couldn't allow this. She could no longer.
She lowered her hands, shook her head, and resolutely walked into the room. She called Seda, but she didn't pick up the phone. Defne wrote her a message with words of support, and then called her grandmother. She said the usual: "Everything is fine," she listened to the news and instructions, promised to call in and ended the call. Her heart ached. She lied to Omer when she said she was not offended by her grandmother. She was offended. She didn't tell anyone about it, but her heart burned insult. Grandma didn't choose her either ... Why, well, why does everyone always choose not her? Why are they leaving her so easily, as if she doesn't mean anything in their lives? And why can't she be like them? Why, having left Omer, does she suffer so much? These painful questions, to which Defne could not find answers, again dragged her into the abyss of tears and self-pity. And she again stopped this flow in the already familiar way - she picked up a pencil and sat down to draw.
At home, Omer entered the office and sank heavily into a chair. On his soul was lousy. The hope hid in the corner of his heart and lowered her head. He was choking with longing and despair. Taking up the portrait of his mother, Omer turned to it:
- Mom, she doesn't believe my words. Cuts me off from her life. And I can't live without her. What should I do, mom?
His words vanished into the air and silence fell again in the room. And suddenly, as if thrown off by an invisible hand, the papers fell on the floor from the table. Omer bent to pick them up and froze. The top one was the very picture of shoes that Defne draw in the hospital. Omer picked it up and thought.
***
On Monday morning, Defne entered her office. On one hand, she held a folder with drawings, in the second a flowerpot with blooming gardenia. Large, white flowers exuded a delicate aroma that instantly spread throughout the room.
Laying the folder on the table, Defne put the flower on the windowsill and admired it.
- How are you getting on? - an insinuating voice was heard, from which an ice wave ran down Defne's spine.
"Good morning, Mr. Talat," she answered with restraint.
"You can call me Kivo," he let his sticky gaze touch her figure in such a tone as if giving alms.
"Thank you, but I do not like familiarity, and at work, I adhere to the rules of subordination," Defne coldly rejected his offer.
She took off her leather backpack and turned to the hanger to hang it on a hook. Ugly short fingers closed around her wrist and gripped it painfully. Kivanc pulled her hand and turned her to face him. Blue eyes brazenly examined the girl and stopped on her lips.
- Are you offended? - He hissed in her face.
His breath was sour and Defne turned her face away. Dealing with a fit of nausea, she looked into his hateful face and said in an icy tone:
- Immediately release my hand.
Kivanc grinned cynically but opened his fingers. Defne stepped aside and, folding her hands on her chest, warned him with icy calm.
"Once again, you dare to touch me, and I will show you the manners of the girls from the neighborhood." Believe me, you will not like it.
"You dare threaten me?"
- I warn you. But you are free to take my words as you please. Kivanc grunted mockingly and reached for the folder.
- What do you have here? - He laid out the drawings on the table and jabbed a finger at one of them. - We'll take this one for the contest.
Defne collected the drawings calmly and put them back in the folder.
- If you have forgotten, then I will remind you - Mr. Denise Tranba will personally choose the drawing for the contest.
Kivanc turned red. He grabbed the edge of the folder and pulled it toward him.
"I will give the drawings to Tranba myself," he declared.
Defne covered the folder with her hand and pressed it firmly to the countertop.
"Well, what are you," she objected boldly. - Is the creative director fit to act as a courier? The meeting is twenty minutes later and it will not be difficult for me to bring the folder to Mr. Tranba's office.
Kivanc's face took on the color of ripe cherries. Defne had serious fears that he will have a fit.
- Do you consider yourself the smartest? - his voice sounded furious.
"No," she sounded absolutely calm. - just fulfilling my duties and orders of Mr. Tranba.
Striking the table with his fist, Kivanc flew out of the office. Defne fell on a chair and closed her eyes. Incredible fatigue and devastation swept over her whole body. She won the battle, but how many are yet to come? Why can't her life be calm and measured? Why does she get into trouble every time? Will there come a day when she will wake up in the morning and fall asleep in the evening with a serene smile on her face?
The door creaked. Defne winced and opened her eyes. But then she sighed in relief. Instead of the ugly face of Kivanc Talat, she saw Seda's sweet, but haggard face.
- At last! - Defne rises from her seat and hurried to her friend. - How's Nisa? I called a hundred times, but your phone didn't answer.
"Sorry," Seda tiredly sank into the visitor chair. - I could not answer the calls. Nisa is better. The crisis is over.
- What's wrong with her? asked Defne sympathetically.
"Leukemia," Seda said. Defne gasped and covered her mouth with her hand. Her eyes instantly filled with tears, and her friend continued to say: "We need a bone marrow transplant." We are lucky, I can be a donor. But a lot of money is needed for the operation itself and subsequent rehabilitation ... That's why I went to work for Trаnba. I knew about his reputation, but the salary here is an order of magnitude higher than in other companies and he promised to give me a loan. "She looked into Defne's surprised eyes and smiled sadly. "Do you think I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth?" Not. This is not true. Yes, I am now a pro in my field, but I was born in an ordinary family and studied at the university on a scholarship. My father died when I was in my second year. The three of us were left alone. And then Nisa got sick ... I can't lose her ... I can't!
Seda covered her face with her hands and her shoulders trembled finely. Defne hugged her and pressed her temple to the top of her head. Her troubles suddenly seemed to her so shallow and insignificant in comparison with the depth of her friend's grief.
- Everything will be fine. Believe it, "she said confidently. Seda sniffed and took her palms away from her face. Shaking her head, she smiled through her tears and scolded herself:
- What is it that I got crying about? You might think my tears will help. "She looked at Defne with gratitude. - Usually, I don't tell anyone about my problems, but there is something in you that makes a person turn his soul out.
Defne smiled warmly in response and stroked her hand.
"You can always come to me with your troubles." I will not talk about it with other people, but I will always try to help.
- Sunny girl! Allah must have sent you to support me.
Seda's face took on the usual, mockingly perky expression. As if not she had just cried from hopelessness. She got to her feet and thrust a folder with drawings into Defne's hands.
- Let's hurry up. Three minutes later, the meeting will begin. We will not anger Tranba and give a trump card to Talat. He is already ready to throw you on the earth. But that's not going to happen!
Trumba, laying aside the pattern chosen by Kivanc, chose another. It was the one that Defne herself considered the best of the drawings.
"This one," he said confidently. Talat twisted his mouth in displeasure but said nothing. Denise gave him a close look and continued: - The final meeting will be held with us. The committee members and the Passionis team will appear here in an hour. For the work. Everything should be perfect.
The employees nodded their heads and silently reached for the exit from the office. Left alone, Tranba picked up the selected drawing and smiled triumphantly.
"Well, Iplikci?" Someone appeared cooler and more talented than you. Defne will get around you and her works belong to Tranba!
He put his hands behind his head and leaned back in his chair. A satisfied smirk wandered over his face. How sweetly is anticipating victory over a strong opponent!
***
Iz peered into Omer's office.
- Can I come to you? She asked with a beaming smile, and without waiting for permission, she went inside. - Ready for a decisive battle?
He did not answer. With his hands clasped in his trouser pockets, he stood by the huge window and watched intently as the sun's rays pierced the airy white clouds. A thin cotton shirt wrapped over broad shoulders. Its whiteness set off the swarthy skin and black bristles of a short, neat beard. It ached in Iz's chest. Her smile faded. The playful notes disappeared from her voice, as she said:
"Tranba was quicker." The meeting and the announcement of the results will be held in his office.
Not one muscle didn't flinch on his handsome, proud face.
- "Will you let me see the drawings?- Iz reaching out to the orange folder with the Passionis logo lying on the table. Omer turned away from the window with lightning speed and was two steps away at the table. He covered the folder with his palm and answered:
- You will see it at a meeting.
"What a mystery," Iz said mockingly, but he ignored her tone and words. He removed his jacket from the hanger, put it on, carefully pulled out his sleeves and adjusted his trouser belt. He smoothed his beard, ran his fingers through his thick hair, picked up the folder and nodded at the door:
- Let's go to.
Sinan was already waiting for them at the Derya desk. Slyly smiled and asked Iz:
"Didn't show you either?"
"No," she answered him in tone. - All so mysterious that I want to hit him.
"Be patient," Sinan asked cheerfully. - After the meeting. We still need him safe and sound.
"How good you are," Omer muttered through his teeth, and without looking back went to the elevator. Friends, exchanging glances and holding back laughter, hurried after him. Already at the door of the elevator, they were stopped by a capricious call:
- Where to? And I? Have you forgotten me?
In a poisonous yellow, trendy cardigan over an acid-green T-shirt fluttering like a sail, Koray flew down the corridor. He met the courier girl on the way, with one movement of his hand he pushed her to the wall and immediately turned his attention to his friends.
"How can we forget you," Omer muttered vexingly, which caused a loud laugh from the companions.
"I-and-and, they laugh," Koray squint his eyes and proudly jerked his head back like a king and stepped into the elevator." There he looked flatteringly in Omer's eyes and asked: - Omush, will you show me the drawing?
"No, Koray," he replied seriously and pressed the first-floor button.
"Allah Allah, what pathos," the photographer scornfully measured his eyes. - Here your skinny girl will win, you will lose, you will cry, and I will proudly pass by and will not console you.
- Koray, hold your tongue! - Sinan was indignant. - What are you talking about?
Koray narrowed his eyes and hissed like an angry cat. But Sinan no longer paid attention to him. His gaze settled on Omer. He stood with a stone face and only his eyes burned with dark fire. Sinan felt cold in his chest. Allah! What was his partner planning?
Tranba met them on the threshold of the conference room. Without hiding his contented smile, he greeted the Passionis team. He held out Iz's hand a little longer. Defiantly looked into her bold eyes and, lowering his voice, said:
"Glad to welcome you to my empire."
Iz raised a brow and mockingly besieged him:
"Denise, you certainly won't die of modesty."
He laughed hoarsely and let her inside the conference room.
Omer did not hear anything. A frantic beat of the heart and the sound of blood running through the veins were heard in his ears. His eyes looked for the slim figure of Defne. He saw her barely crossed the threshold. She stood with her back to him and talked with Seda. A gray-green narrow dress clung to her body. Omer envied it and the weightless golden-copper curl, which was knocked out of the knot at the back of her head and gently touched a graceful neck.
"Omer," Sinan called muffledly to him and quietly nudged him.
He woke up. Reservedly greeted those present and took his place at the table. The rest followed him. For a few minutes, only the rattle of the reclining chairs and quiet conversations that soon subsided were heard. On both sides of Omer sat Sinan and Iz, Defne's place was the opposite. She laid a folder in front of her and folded her hands over it. Her eyes looked everywhere, but not at Omer. Near her, imposingly lounging in a chair, sat Kivanc Talat. A painful knot formed in Defne's stomach, which she tried to relax by pressing a palm against the upper abdomen. This gesture didn't escape Omer's attention.
His already heavy look darkened even more. He kept his eyes on her. He didn't give a damn about the people around, about decency, about possible gossip and guesses, he burned her with his eyes and caught the manifestation of the slightest emotions on her beloved face. He saw pain flashing in her gaze as she looked at Iz. He saw the efforts that she made to seem calm. He saw her jerk when Talat touched her with his elbow. A dark wave rose in his chest and his fingers, breaking a pencil clamped in them, involuntarily clenched into a fist. Defne finally looked at him. There was a request in her eyes ... and fear. He nodded slightly and unclenched his hand. Gently put the pieces of the pencil on the table. The assistant of Tranba quickly removed them. Defne's face relaxed a little. The line of her lips softened. The burning in Omer's chest became bearable.
The organizers of the contest entered the hall and, having greeted those present, took their places at the head of the table. The last to sit was Tranba. He took the folder in front of Defne and handed it to the head of the committee, Mr. Shinasi. He opened it and took out a drawing. There was a deafening silence in the conference room. Everyone looked at the man's face and waited intensely. His eyes lit up with admiration. He picked up a sheet of paper and showed the drawing to those present, and then turned to Tranba.
- Great! Your designer is undoubtedly talented and extraordinary. "He turned to Defne. "Madame Topal ..."
"Iplikci," Omer said firmly and clearly.
- What? asked Mr. Shinasi.
- The surname of Defne - Iplikci. She is my wife.
Those present with open mouths stared dumbfounded at Omer. And only Defne sat, looking down and gritting her teeth.
"I apologize," Mr. Shinasi apologized confusedly and again turned to Defne: "Madame Iplikci, your work is impeccable." You will undoubtedly become one of the key figures among the designers of the shoe sector in Turkey.
"Thank you," her tone was steady, but her voice trembled slightly.
"Look at me," Omer asked her mentally. - Look at me! She looked up at him, eyes shining as if in a fever. - Believe me! Everything will be fine!"
"Mr. Iplikci, your drawing," Shinasi addressed him.
- I have no words. Once again you were able to surpass yourself, Mr. Iplikci. Ms. Defne's work is great, but yours is a masterpiece. Competition wins Passionis.
With these words, he unrolled the drawing and lifted it higher. A delighted whisper swam across the hall. With his side vision, Omer saw that Tranba's eyes were bloodshot, and Sinan was looking at him disbelievingly. But he, ignoring both the rival and the friend, kept looking at Defne. She turned pale, shock widened her eyes.
"The drawing belongs to Passionis, but it was not me who draw it," Omer said calmly. Now shock was reflected in the eyes of Shinasi and his colleagues. - Design by Defne Iplikci.
The hall gasped in unison. Tranba turned pale, Talat froze with his mouth open and a silly expression on his face. Sinan exhaled noisily. And Defne ... Defne shot up at him a bewildered, completely confused look.
The organizers of the contest looked at each other and Shinasi turned to Tranba:
- Mr. Denise, we need to consult.
"My office is at your service," Tranba replied and told the assistant: "Ruya, take the gentlemen away."
The men went out. There was a ringing silence in the conference room that Koray had broken. Blinking his eyes, he turned to Omer:
- Omuus, I didn't understand. Your skinny girl painted your design?
"Koray, shut your mouth and sit still," Sinan hissed at him.
He pulled his head into his shoulders and, press his lips offended, shot his friend an angry look. But he obeyed the order.
And again silence reigned in the room. The rivals silently stared at each other, and the atmosphere in the room resembled a powder keg with a lit wick. Only Defne sat staring at the glass top and tried to digest what she heard. Omer submitted a model for the contest, which she drew at the hospital. What for? He, as a designer, worked four years to this day and at the last moment gave her victory. The girl from the neighborhood, a novice designer ...
"And also his wife," whispered an inner voice.
The organizers returned to the conference room. Two sat down in their seats, and Mr. Shinasi remained standing. He took turns looking at the owners of both companies and began his speech:
- Gentlemen, we consulted and made a decision. I will not hide - the situation is non-standard. The best design belongs to Passionis, but its author is the designer of Tranba. Whoever we give priority to - the second company will be in an unfair loss. Therefore, for the first time during the existence of our competition, we declare both companies the winner and Defne Iplikci as the best shoe designer in Turkey.
The hall exploded with applause and enthusiastic exclamations. Dumbfounded Defne looked at Omer. From his barely perceptible, diabolical smile, her brain exploded completely. Well, here's how, how can you understand him ?!!
After waiting for the first wave of delight, Mr. Shinasi, calling for silence, raised his hand up. When the noise died down, he continued:
- But, there is one "but." At the festival, you will represent Turkey as a country, which means you must join forces and develop a common collection under a single concept. It should be teamwork, not pulling a blanket over yourself. Is the task clear?
The stunned Tranba and Sinan nodded slowly.
- Well! You have exactly one month. Easy work gentlemen!
The organizers said goodbye and, accompanied by Deniz, left the conference room. Behind them, one after another, went out to the employees of Tranba. Only Defne, digesting the information, was in no hurry to leave. Omer, having made a sign to Sinan so that they would return to Passionis without him, lingered. He went to his wife and, bowing his head, looked into her face. She burned him with an angry look and hissed through her teeth:
- Into my office.
Straight as a string, she went out into the corridor and resolutely headed towards her office. Omer followed and smiled like the Cheshire cat. As soon as the door of her office closed behind them, he grabbed Defne in his arms and, laughing, circled the room.
- Omer, stop it! - she was indignant. - Immediately put me on my feet!
He stopped, sighed in disappointment, and obediently returned her upright position. Defne walked a couple of steps and only then asked:
- You damn ingenious strategist specially planned all this?
"Yes," he answered honestly and recklessly cheerfully.
- But why?!
"I wanted your victory."
- And the defeat of Passionis?
- Passionis did not lose.
"But you lost!" More precisely, he voluntarily gave me the laurels of the best designer in Turkey.
- And I'm very happy about that!
He did not lie. He was glad. Defne saw this in his eyes and a happy smile. She tried to reach out to his pride.
"Omer, I'm a Tranba worker." Tranba's! Your rival and old enemy. This victory is not only mine but also his. You, who didn't want to have anything to do with him, now have to cooperate? Remember, when I first sold my design to Tranba, you did not forgive me for this act. You considered it a betrayal. Why are you doing differently now?
"You really don't understand?" - he looked into her eyes, but it seemed - in her heart. - I choose you. Not myself, not my pride, not Passionis. You!
How she wanted to believe his words! To forget doubts, fear, reason, and rush into his arms!
Defne looked away and stepped back a step.
- I did not ask you about it.
Heck! Omer got angry. She again moves away and builds barriers between them. He stepped forward and wrapped his palm around the back of her head. He bowed to her face and disarmed her with his gaze, objected:
- And I did not wait for a request.
Her lips trembled and Omer couldn't restrain himself. He clung to them with a short, hot kiss. Moving away, he turned and went to the door. Seeing her phone on the table, he stopped and picked it up. Defne watched anxiously as his fingers ran across the screen.
- What are you doing? - she was indignant.
"I am removing myself from the blacklist," he said imperiously. - Enough of these children's games. I am in your life and be kind to come to terms with it.
Putting the phone on the table, he walked to the threshold.
- This means nothing! Defne shouted into his back. "I will not change my mind." Tomorrow is the court and we will get a divorce.
"We'll see," Omer threw over his shoulder and closed the door behind him.
Dumbass! Damn stubborn fool!
We will see!!!