Tranba was waiting for him in the deserted corridor, which led to the elevator. He stood with a bored look, legs wide apart and hands clasped in his trouser pockets. Realizing that to pass by, pretending that he had not noticed his constant rival, would look at least implausible, Omer sighed and stopped.
"I'm listening to you, Denise."
"Do you love her so much?" - asked Tranba.
Omer was surprised not so much by the question as to the tone it was asked. Ordinary malice and bravado disappeared. He spoke ... normally. And he looked like a man whose world was turned upside down. Omer looked into his eyes and answered:
- So much.
Tranba shook his head in disbelief.
- I don't believe it. This doesn't happen. For a man, business is always more important than a woman.
Omer smiled wryly.
- Until a certain moment, it is. But when you meet Her ... everything changes. There is nothing more important than love, Denise.
Tranba intensely scanned Omer's face, as if he wanted to find traces of falsehood there. But they were not there.
"Why are you revealing the cards and telling me the truth?"
"Because you ask openly." No catch, "Omer answered.
Denise bowed his head, and then from under his eyebrows looked Omer in the eye and firmly declared:
"I will not yield to you Defne."
"She is already mine," he answered confidently.
"She wants a divorce," Tranba reminded him.
- She is mistaken. There will be no divorce.
- You're so sure?
- Absolutely!
Tranba laughed hoarsely and returned his usual ironic-mocking expression to his face.
"You're still the same arrogant man." And I thought that Defne was able to change you. But there are no miracles. ... Okay, I wanted to tease you and specifically put it wrong. To paraphrase my words: I will not yield Defne to Passionis. Her talent belongs to Tranba.
"Defne herself will make this decision," Omer muttered through gritted teeth.
"You're right," Denise agreed. "But I will do my best to choose Tranba."
"But you understand that I will do my best for Defne to return to Passionis?" - countered Omer.
Tranba grinned and declared:
- She won't be back.
- You're so sure? Omer repeated the question that Denise had previously asked him.
"Absolutely," Denise repeated his answer. - In Tranba Defne is an independent designer, personality, star. But if she returns to Passionis, she will again become your application, your shadow. Current Defne will not want this.
Omer's chest tightened painfully. He never looked at Defne from such an angle, but now he understood that Denise was right and that was why he wanted to slap his smug physiognomy.
And before, and now he was seeing her as part of himself, and he did not want to change anything. She is his Defne, his soul, his ... she is just his!
He straightened up and asked coldly:
"Is that all you wanted to tell me?"
Tranba mockingly bent eyebrows.
"You hint that the conversation about Defne is over?" - Omer did not answer, he just looked firmly. - Good, I get it. I change the topic. Thanks to a certain designer in love, Tranba and Passionis will now have to work together. And we have very little time. It is necessary to immediately organize a meeting and develop a work plan.
"At three in the afternoon, in Passionis," Omer rapped out. He walked around Tranba and headed straight for the elevator.
Denise looked after him, smiled ironically, and headed for his office. Near the assistant's desk, he paused for a second and gave the order:
"Ruya, call Defne." Let her come in immediately. And also warn Kivanc and Seda that at three we have a meeting in Passionis. You come too.
"Good, Mr. Denise," the girl answered in a flat, emotionless voice. - Mr. Kivanc wanted to see you. What should I answer him?
"Later," Tranba answered without hiding his annoyance. - First I need to talk with Defne.
As soon as the cabinet door closed, Talat appeared in the reception room. Ignoring the assistant, he arrogantly lifted his chin and contemptuously twisting his lips, walked straight to the office of the big boss.
- Mr. Kivanc, wait! Ruya blocked his path. "Mr. Denise will speak with Defne, and then he will receive you."
- What? - Talat's eyes filled with fury.
The girl shrugged.
- This is his order. Even Mr. Denise asked me to inform you that at three o'clock we have a meeting at Passionis.
The furious Kivanc turned sharply and went to his place. Malice choked him. This upstart Defne, who worked for only a week here, pushed aside him and the Kivanc models. Received the title of the best designer in Turkey. For what? For her beautiful eyes? And everyone, including Tranba, jumps around her and you can only hear: Defne! Defne!
Тhey found a Queen, right!
How he hated her. Even more than her husband. Hated and wanted.
And he always got what he wanted.
***
Defne entered Denise Tranba's office and stopped near the long table for visitors, which was perpendicular to the boss's table.
"Mr. Denise, did you want to talk to me?"
He pointed to a chair with his hand.
- Have a seat.
Defne sat down and clasped her hands in her lap. She didn't want Tranba to notice the trembling of her fingers and understand how emotionally agitated and defenseless she is now.
- Defne, I want to talk about our contract. To be honest, I did not expect such a result.
"Me too," Defne muttered and sighed.
"The victory of both firms," continued Tranba, "brought confusion." We did not foresee such an outcome and did not introduce the corresponding clause in the contract.
Well, yes ... they didn't.
- And what do you suggest? Asked Defne.
Confident and firmly. Tranba was even taken aback. Where is that naive, emotional girl who has all her feelings written on her face? Before him sat a cold, unflappable stranger with an impenetrable face and a straight, full of proud dignity, posture. You cannot deceive such a person. And he answered honestly:
"I agree to close your debt if you sign a three-year contract with Tranba."
"For a year," Defne calmly advanced a counterclaim.
Tranba shook his head in amazement.
- You have changed. Where did the cute, gullible and shy kitten go?
"Grew up," Defne answered.
- Oh yeah! - agreed Tranba. - Grew up and turned into a proud and strong lioness. And I appreciate it! Therefore, I make concessions and offer a contract for two years and the salary is twice as high as now. Plus a percentage of the sales of all the collections you created.
"I have one more demand," Defne said firmly.
"Speak," Denise agreed immediately.
"You will give Seda a loan as soon as possible."
He made a mistake.
Defne has not changed. Yes, she became more mature and more confident in herself and her strength, but her heart remained the same as before - huge and ready to help everyone in need. And for this, he respected her even more. He did not know-how.
- Good, Defne. I should not write down this clause in our contract with you. I will immediately give a loan to Seda.
"And two days off at her request," the girl intensified the pressure.
- I agree with this. But in response, you give all your best and draw awesome collections. I want to return the positions won by Passionis.
Defne thought for a moment. The conditions were more than good. First, debt disappears. Secondly, with such a salary, she will be able to repay Omer the money for the Topal family home. She can help her family, rent a decent apartment and move out of the present, which she does not like at all. She can help Seda. In the end - she can do what she loves. True, there is still Kivanc Talat with his lustful glances and anger, but where is no guarantee that such as Talat will not be in another workplace? And of course, Omer and Passionis. Her love and weakness. Well, being a competitor is not a crime. She will do her job, and let Omer do his own.
She raised an impenetrable glance at Trаnba and asked:
"Can I show the contract to my lawyer?"
Denise was not even surprised that Defne doesn't take words on faith and wants to protect herself. He nodded in agreement and answered:
- Of course. "I am not modest, Defne," Tranba said ironically. "But you already know it." Therefore, I did not wait for your consent and ordered the legal department to immediately prepare a contract. You can show it to your lawyer today.
"It would be great," Defne agreed, ignoring his words of modesty. "I'm meeting him tonight." Mr. Denise, I will have a request. Can I take unpaid leave tomorrow for half a day? Tomorrow morning I need to be in court.
- Your divorce case? Defne nodded silently. "Don't you think you are making a big mistake?"
The composure so carefully kept on her face slipped from his words. Did they, these men, decide to shock her today?
"And you tell me this?" The man who considers Omer his enemy? -with widely amazed eyes asked Defne.
Tranba looked away. His fingers drummed a simple melody on the countertop. After a brief silence, he spoke:
- Well, the enemy is too pathetic. Let's just say - a competitor who is very annoying to me, - Denise grinned ironically. But the next second his face became serious. "Yesterday it would never have occurred to me to say such a thing." But today ... today I saw something that I had never met before and considered all these conversations about real love as fantasies of teenagers far from reality. But hell, when a self-confident, strong man for the sake of a woman renounces his success ... this is no longer a fantasy. This is probably ... that same love. Think about it, Defne.
***
Omer nervously examined the meeting room for the hundredth time. The air conditioner is turned on at a comfortable temperature. Hard chairs were replaced with comfortable chairs with soft seats. In the middle of the table is water in narrow glass bottles. Nearby are thin tall glasses. There are Italian cookies in earthenware plates (if suddenly Defne gets hungry and wants to have a bite ... although Koray most likely eats it), and most importantly, name cards. Hearing from Mr. Iplikci that they need to be printed and fixed on the backs of chairs, and even in a certain order, Derya stared but did not argue with the excited boss. She nodded silently and set off to obey the order. Leaving the room, she raised her eyebrows and shook her head in amazement. It looks like the boss is quite moved by love.
But Omer did not care who what thinks. The meeting should be productive. To do this, Defne should sit next to him, and this blond-haired moron Kivanc Talat - on the other side of the table.
- OU! Exclaimed the incoming Sinan. - Do we welcome Tranba or an English delegation?
"Don't be a jerk," Omer stopped him. "Tranba or other guests, what's the difference." We, as hosts, must provide them with comfort.
- Yes Yes! - Sinan said cheerfully.
Iz came into the room, and Koray followed her. The latter's eyes lit up from the sight of the cookies, and he headed straight for the table.
- Koray! Omer called out sternly. - Leave the cookies alone. At least until the meeting begins.
The photographer pouted his lips resentfully, and Derya, who neatly laid out paper on the table, giggled. Koray bumped into her and started to shout:
- And-and-and! She laughs! Ugly. Your forehead is like a tower. Did she lay eyes on cookies? And don't even dream! You are an assistant - sit and write down what I will say. I! I am Koray Sargin! All of Turkey knows me. Everyone wants to hear me ...
"Koray, shut your mouth and take your place," Sinan interrupted him, and the photographer's righteous anger now fell upon him.
- Sinan, you envy me? - He proudly walked to the chair with his name. And he saw a catastrophe - the name on the nearby chair. His face twisted in a grimace. - What is it? Will I sit next to the nasty man? Omuus !!!
"Koray, stop the tantrum," Omer commanded imperiously. "Or take a seat at the end of the table next to Derya."
Koray glanced at the slyly smiling assistant and sat down with a hurt expression on his face.
Tranba entered the office, and Talat and Defne with Seda followed him. When Omer saw his wife, he stood up and nervously adjusted his shirt cuffs.
"Welcome," he gestured to the chairs. - Have a seat.
Scanning each other with gazes, both teams, Tranba and Passionis, began to sit in the allotted seats. Omer pushed back his chair and helped Defne sit down. His fingers touched her hand and, for a moment lingering, gently stroked the tender skin of her wrist. She held her breath and scaredly looked around - if anyone had noticed such liberties of Omer, and then squinted at him with a stern look. He just smiled wryly.
Seda's place was next to Sinan. They sat at the table and smiled at each other in a completely civilized and welcoming manner. That can't be said about Iz and Tranba. Sparks flew in different directions from their mockingly insolent glances. Koray, contemptuously pursing his lips, squinted examined Kivanc and, risking breaking a chair, noisily moved away from him. He turned red and turned away from the shameless photographer. Derya watched the bosses with burning curiosity, Ruya - calmly. Both sat side by side at the end of the table and pretended not to notice each other.
Omer nodded to Sinan and he opened the meeting. After his first words in the office, hostilities began. Tranba's team met with hostility the proposals of Passionis, who in turn criticized the ideas of competitors. Kivanc insolent tried to push through his work and vision of the concept. Iz criticized them to the nines and rightly remarked that spoiled Europe does not need battered clichés, but creativeness, style, and identity. And let Mr. Talat not be offended, but in his designs, as well as in ideas, this is not close. Kivanc, crimson with anger, sourly asked if Mademoiselle Iz herself had any ideas or experience working in such events.
The girl replied that there was no experience, but there was an idea, which Talat only grunted contemptuously. Tranba unexpectedly supported the girl's words and offered to voice her vision. Everyone liked her ideas, except for the offended Kivanc. Even Defne. And although the appearance of Iz in Passionis was the most painful blow for her, now she couldn't help but acknowledge that her presence was a great success for the company. It may be true that Omer took her to work as a professional, and not as an ex-girl, to whom he had feelings. Although ... the first does not exclude the second.
Omer sensitively grasped the moment when Defne suddenly subsided and then sighed sadly. He didn't know what she was thinking, but these thoughts disturbed her. And that means him too. Or is she tired?
He raised his hand and the voices immediately died down.
"Gentlemen, ladies, let's take a break and have some coffee." Derya, get busy," he ordered the assistant. "Make tea for Defne." Weak with two tablespoons of sugar.
- Smoothie for me! From strawberries! - clapped hands Koray, but Omer cut short his delight.
"Koray, we're going to take a ten-minute coffee break, not a party." You will make yourself smoothies in the evening at home.
- Then why tea for the skinny girl? - the photographer was indignant.
Omer had an irresistible desire to strangle him. He had already opened his mouth to stop Koray, who was deprived of delicacy, as cool fingers touched his hand and Defne said:
- Derya, I will also have coffee. Let me help you make it. - She got up from her chair.
"Ruya will help," Tranba intervened, showing with his whole appearance that making coffee was not the responsibility of the lead designer. Defne silently sat back.
Omer gritted his teeth. He understood that Denise was the boss of Defne, but the fact that she was obliged to obey his orders infuriated him. No one, no man in the world has the right to order his wife!... Except for himself. Derya brought coffee. Omer laid a pair of cookies on the edge of Defne's saucer and ordered:
"Eat," she wanted to be indignant, but Omer strictly reminded: "Forgot what the doctor said?"
Defne silently took the cracker and angrily bit a corner. She chewed on delicate, crispy cookies and had no taste at all. Anger bubbled inside. These damn men got on her nerves. They turn her around like a doll, and everyone expects her to obediently bounce with every click of their fingers. This must stop! She will learn to say firmly "NO!" Especially to Omer.
Her angry look caught on to another, sympathetic and understanding. Seda smiled at her encouragingly and winked. Defne's heart warmed and her anger subsided. For some reason, the realization that others at times experience such feelings calmed up her nerves.
"Sorry." Omer's warm breath touched her ear. He spoke very quietly, and from the low, vibrating sound of his voice, Defne's hands were covered with goosebumps. - When it comes to your health and well-being, I get a little crazy.
Defne nodded and, without looking at him, answered equally quietly:
- I'm fine.
And she looked down into her cup of coffee.
And why should he worry about her health?
Either coffee had a magical effect, or both teams finally realized that they were in the same boat and success depends on a compromise, but after the break, work went more productively. Seda supplemented the ideas of Iz with her own, and between the girls, there was such a necessary understanding at a glance. One started the thought, the second picked up. From time to time, Koray wedged between them, and, if we put aside the monologues about his genius and the endless crunch of the cookies eaten by him, his proposals were very interesting. An hour later, the general concept was ready.
"Now it's up to the designers," Sinan drew the line and turned to Omer and Defne. - You must decide on the models by the end of the week. And then we will have enough time to make samples, shoot the catalog and prepare for the presentation. But you cannot lose a minute.
"Mr. Sinan is right," leaning back in his chair, Kivanc Talat complacently declared. - Mr. Omer, I am ready to start work immediately.
"I will work with Mrs. Defne," Omer answered calmly.
- What? - Kivanc was taken aback. His smug expression gave way to an idiotic grimace.
"She is the author of the models, Mr. Talat, and not you," Omer explained his position firmly.
- Denise! Cried Kivanc.
"Mr. Denise," Tranba corrected him, and the crimson redness on Talat's face gave way to a bluish pallor. - Mr. Omer is right. The drawings of the models belong to Defne ...
"Madame Defne," Omer corrected him.
"Madame Defne," agreed on Trumba. - It is for her to continue working on the project.
Talat fell silent. He just looked at Defne with undisguised hatred. This look of his shook coldly in Omer's chest. For a moment he was scared. But then, fear was replaced by determination - he would not allow Defne to suffer from this hatred. Until the festival itself, he will follow along on her heels, and then he will do the impossible, to take her away from Tranba.
To his company, to his home, to his life.
He looked at her. Defne looked bewildered. She shifted her discouraged gaze from one face to another, and when she looked at him, Omer smiled warmly at her and mentally promised that everything would be alright. Her lips relaxed and faltered in a barely noticeable, reciprocal smile.
After the meeting, Omer, leaving Sinan to deal with the routine, hurried after his wife. She walked next to Seda, and Omer shamelessly overheard their conversation.
"Sorry, I can't drive you home today," Seda said. "At seven I have to be in the hospital." And on the way, I need to drop into the supermarket. Girls are girls even in the hospital. They want to be beautiful. There are three of them in the ward. All about the same age as Nisa. So cute and pretty. Even now they're pretty ... It's so scary to look at them and feel helpless ...
Defne with a sympathetic gesture touched her friend's shoulder and replied:
- You are doing everything possible - this is the main thing. The rest is in the hands of Allah.
- I was called to accounting today. A loan was issued. Tomorrow the money will go to my account and doctors will be able to plan and prepare Nisa for surgery, "Seda's voice vibrated with joy.
"You see," Defne smiled broadly. - Everything will be fine!
She will recover, and we will still dance at her wedding.
The girls went into the elevator. As soon as the shutters closed, Omer rushed to the second and eagerly pressed the call button. And he, meanwhile, called Sukru and asked him to drive the car to the entrance, leave the keys at the guard, and go home himself. He'll drive tonight.
Defne stood at the bus stop. Thin, graceful, she clutched a bag in her hands and, impatiently tapping the heel of an elegant shoe, looked at the road. Omer drove up to her, slowed down, opened the door on the passenger side and patted the seat.
- Sit down!
Defne shook her head.- Thank you, I will go by bus.
"I will not budge until you sit down," he delivered an ultimatum.
Defne cast an angry look at him, and then looked back at the road. A bus was approaching the stop, but Omer's car did not allow it to drive up and stop at the designated place. The driver gave a signal. Omer remained calm. He looked at her from the passenger compartment through the open door and smiled. The bus driver pressed the signal harder. The people at the bus stop began to resent.
Defne exhaling angrily: - Off !!! - got into the car. Omer, still smiling pretty, set off.
"You never back down, do you?" She asked in a ringing of anger voice.
"Never," answered Omer cheerfully. - Dictate your address.
"I'm not going home," she answered him maliciously. - I have a meeting with the lawyer now.
He sighed. What a stubborn woman!
- Well, tell me the address where the meeting will be held.
Defne dictated. Omer turned in the right direction and pressed the gas.
- Defne, and maybe you'll change your mind? Why do you need a lawyer and this stupid court? I still won't give you a divorce.
"The divorce is possible without husband's consent," she answered looking out the window.
- But not when the wife has a real possibility of pregnancy.
Defne sharply turned her white face. Her eyes threw lightning.
- I'm not pregnant!!! She cried.
- Not pregnant? - Omer sounded disappointed. "It's a pity ... and I already fantasized myself a red-haired little girl with black eyes like mine and your radiant smile." Well, nothing, we still have everything ahead.
"Stop there," Defne ordered icily and pointed to a parking lot near the store. Omer obediently complied with her request. She unfastened her seat belt and turned to him. Her eyes flashed with lightning, and the words were whipped. - There is nothing ahead of us. There is no us. Forget it! It's over.
She flew out of the car and rushed to the building, on which the sign "Lawyer Services" was adorned.
Omer gritted his teeth and followed. A little to the side, on the court, the boys were playing ball. One of them, noticing Defne, raised his hand and cried out:
- Hello, carrot!
"Hello, blue-eyed," Defne answered him and, waving her hand, disappeared behind the door of the law office.
Omer went to the boys and called the blue-eyed:
- Hey brother! Can we talk?
The boy first carefully examined Omer, then the car parked at a distance spat out on the ground with an important look, pulled off his shorts and walked closer.
"Well, say it," he said graciously.
"Do you know this girl?" - Omer nodded to the law office.
- Defne? Asked the boy. - I know her of course. She is my neighbor.
Omer pulled out a wallet from the inside pocket of his jacket and slowly pulled out a 100 TL bill. The boy's eyes lit up.
- Will you give me the address? - Omer creaked a banknote.
- Her? - the boy asked without taking his eyes off the bill and immediately corrected himself mockingly: - Well, yes! Why the hell not. He laughed shortly and pointed a direction with his hand. - Drive right down the street. In the end, at the intersection, you will see a brown two-story house. There is a sign on the second floor: "For rent." And on the first floor, the Carrot lives.
Omer handed the boy the bill and thoughtfully said:
- So the apartment on the second floor is for rent?
"Yeah," he said joyfully and hid the money in a pocket in his shorts. - Only those who wish are missing. No one wants to mess with nasty Fatima.
The boy had already run back a few steps, but suddenly stopped abruptly and looked suspiciously at Omer.
"Are you happen to be a maniac?"
Omer smiled at the boy's directness and his rude concern for Defne. He shook his head and answered:
"No, I'm not a maniac."
"Well, look, otherwise I remember you," he threatened, and Omer smiled again.
Still smiling, he got into the car and drove in the indicated direction. He found the house right away, and the sign was in place. Plywood board, on which clumsy letters were printed with blue paint: "For rent", and below a phone number. Omer grinned wryly and looked at the windows of the first floor. Cleanly washed, curtained and empty. Not a single flower. Not good!
After discussing tomorrow's court session with Kerem and the contract with Tranba, in which he, as a lawyer, did not find a single catch, Defne returned home along a narrow, dusty street. She felt exhausted, hungry and frustrated to the limit. Mentally recalling what she had in the refrigerator, she went to the porch and stopped, looking in surprise in front of her. On the wooden, frayed steps, red geraniums smiled at her. Nearby stood a box from which there was an aroma coming so that her head started spinning. Defne came closer, squatted down and opened the lid. There were small dishes with pilaf, kofte, and salad. And also milk baklava and rose jam. On the box of baklava was a rose. Delicate and fragile, the color of the morning dawn. Not a single spike on the short stalk. Neither Serdar nor Iso would have thought of putting a rose on a food box. Only one person could do this. Defne sighed - Omer has found her address. And again, he is trying to subdue her with care.
Defne closed her eyes and swallowed.
What a sin to hide - she so wants to be subdued! To fall into his arms again and dissolve in them, dying from bliss...
And then again it turns out that she is not the only one. And Iz, or Fikret, or someone else in the life of Omer - this is quite a common occurrence.
She cannot survive this. It hurts too much.
After what happened a month and a half ago, she realized that life is very fragile and Omer is the only one who can easily give her heaven ... and just as easily - kill ...
Defne opened her eyes. She got to her feet, unlocked the door. Grabbing the box and geranium, she entered the apartment.
Omer stepped around the corner of the house and looked at the closed door.
The tight, painful knot in his stomach was weakening. He exhaled and closed his eyes for a moment. She took it. So the ice between them has broken.
Once again with a longing look at the light lit in the window, he turned and headed for his car.
Omer walked with an easy gait of a self-confident person, completely oblivious to those around him. And in vain. Girls from nearby houses poured out into the street and stared with admiration at the handsome, elegantly dressed man and his big expensive car. Each sighed sadly and dreamed by some miracle to attract the attention of such a chic guy.
Defne sat at the narrow table in her tiny kitchen and, mechanically stirring her tea looked absently at the amazing rose. There was no vase in the apartment, and she put it in a tall glass. By some miracle, this rose, and a pot of geraniums placed on a windowsill breathed warmth and comfort into her temporary home. Defne felt for the first time here ... at home. And this feeling, as if she did not want to convince herself otherwise, was given to her by Omer.
Defne was never ungrateful and now, hesitating for a moment, turned on the phone, quickly wrote a message and sent it to the addressee.
Omer sat in his austere living room. Palms tenaciously squeezed a cup of coffee, which had already cooled down, and the man never took a sip. The phone vibrated with the message and Omer, hastily putting the cup on the table, opened it. There was one single word, but it was of great importance to the man exhausted by the constant refusals and coldness. On his soul became easy. His face lit up with inner light and tenderness lit up in his eyes.
Defne wrote: "Thank you"...
Unable to resist, he called her. She answered after the first ring. She said in her bewitching voice:
- I'm listening.
And as if a light was lit in the gloomy room. Omer breathed deeply and ...
- Have you eaten? He blurted out and grimaced. Not that, not at all, but the words continued to fly from his lips: - Was it tasty? If not, just say ...
"Hush," Defne stopped the flow of his words. - I have eaten. Everything was delicious. Thanks.
- And the rose? Did you like it? And another flower. Sorry, I forgot the name.
"Geranium," Defne reminded her. - Rose is beautiful. And I love geraniums.
"I know," he breathed.
- Did you call only about this? - Defne asked and Omer was afraid that she would say goodbye now and her gentle voice would melt in the night.
- Not! Not only. I wanted to talk to you, but you ran away so fast ... Okay. ... What am I talking about? Oh yes! I confess, today I overheard your conversation with Seda. When you walked to the elevator. About Nisa, the hospital and her roommates. Defne, what's wrong with her?
She hesitated. What to say? The secret is not hers, and she promised Seda not to talk in vain. But this is Omer. He will not ask out of idle curiosity. And Defne decided.
- She has leukemia ...
The silence on the phone seemed to Defne ringing. She knew that Omer was feeling now and was silent too, allowing him to cope with his memories. Finally, he spoke hoarsely:
"Other girls ... too?"
- Yes...
- Are there any chances?
- Nisa has one. She needs a bone marrow transplant. Fortunately, Seda can be a donor. But money is needed. Very big amount. For surgery and rehabilitation. Mr. Tranba gave a loan to Seda, but whether it is enough to cover all expenses is an open question.
"I'll think about it ... find a way out."
"You don't have to do this."
- I must!
Yes! This is her Omer. Magnanimous and knowing firsthand what compassion is ... Now, with her story, she opened the old wound and it hurts him.
"Forgive me," Defne asked.
- For what?
"For reminding you of mom."
Silence again.
And then a vibrating, furious whisper:
- I love you!!!
O, Allah! Why, why does he say these words and tear her heart? How does he not understand? Gratitude, pity, compassion, affection ... passion is not loving! Not love ...
"Good night," she said muffledly.
- Defne !!! - a desperate scream tore the speaker, but her finger already pressed the red dot on the screen.
- Curse!!! - Omer threw the phone on the sofa and grabbed his head.
How? How to explain to her, to prove that she is his life?
Defne, as in a slow-motion movie, gently put the phone on the table and covered her face with her hands.
"I love you," she whispered and cried.
***
The meeting room turned out to be an ordinary room in an old, slightly gloomy courthouse. A long table with wooden chairs stood in the middle. At its end was another, higher. A brass stand gleamed dimly on the countertop and lay a hammer with the same, copper, knob. The chair was also different from the rest in the room. It was more likely a brown leather-covered chair with a high back and curved armrests. It was it that Defne considered. Because Omer sat opposite and stared at her with a heavy gaze. And she did not want to meet this look. She didn't want to. Therefore, she looked anywhere, but not directly in front of her. And nervously wrung her fingers.
"Defne," Kerem sitting next to her softly called. - Calm down. Everything will be fine.
She nodded. She laid her hands on the table and finally looked at Omer. His jaws were clenched tightly, and his eyes glowed with dark fire. An elderly lawyer, familiar to Defne, was sitting next to him. A little earlier, entering the room, he greeted her very warmly and politely. It was so different from his behavior on that memorable day that Defne was taken aback. Why would such metamorphoses?
The secretary asked everyone to stand up and an elderly man in a judicial robe entered the room. He took his place and nodded, inviting those present to sit down. Having examined the spouses with an attentive look, the judge spoke:
"So you want a divorce?"
"Yes," Defne answered.
"No," Omer said in unison with her.
"I see," the judge nodded and turned to Kerem. - Explain the reasons for the divorce.
The guy, holding a straight expression on his face, spoke:
"Your Honor, my client got married, having a secret that directly concerned her husband." Not wanting to start a family life with deception, at the wedding she confessed to her husband in everything. He could not forgive her lies and left her that very day. The Defne and Omer Iplikci did not become spouses. Therefore, my client decided to annul the marriage and asks the court to invalidate it.
"I protest," Omer's lawyer objected in a well-posed voice. - Mr. Yilmaz deliberately misleads the court.
Kerem, alarmed, with poorly hidden confusion on his beardless face, turned to Defne. She sat pale as a canvas and looked down. Then he looked at Iplikci. His face was carved from stone. Dark, solid, decisive. He was going to win and was ready to do everything for this.
"Explain your words," the judge turned to Omer's lawyer.
"Your Honor, sir let me do this," Omer himself spoke suddenly.
The judge's eyebrows rose in surprise, but he nevertheless gave his consent:
"Please, Mr. Iplikci."
- Mr. Yilmaz is right - I was so killed by the shocking recognition of Defne that I left her on her wedding day. But there is another truth - our marriage became valid long before the wedding - amber eyes shot up and looked in amazement at the burning blacks. Dead pallor gave way to crimson blush, indifference to shock. But Omer was not going to spare her honor and natural shyness. "Besides, when I returned, Defne and I lived in my house for several days, and I have every reason to believe that these days did not go unnoticed."
Now Kerem went pale, and Defne cried out:
- I'm not pregnant!
"I'm not talking about pregnancy," Omer glared at her, "although this is possible." But now I'm talking about feelings. You follow the grudge and misconceptions and ruin our family!
- I protest! - exclaimed Kerem. - Mr. Iplikci should not assess the feelings of Madame Defne.
"Accepted," the judge turned to Omer. - Mr. Iplikci please talk about your feelings and arguments.
"I'm sorry, sir," Omer's voice became quieter and deeper.
- My feelings are simple. Being away from my wife, I understood the reasons for her misconduct and forgave her with all my heart. I realized that she is my life and I love her with all my heart. "He looked in the eyes of Defne and, turning to her alone, said fervently: " I love you! ".
He slowly turned his head and said in a trembling voice to the judge:
- Your Honor, I ask you to give us a chance.
There was a deafening silence in the room. One could hear a fly buzzing between the frames of the old windows, how people were talking outside the wall, how the police boots stomped heavily in the corridor. The judge scanned Omer's face intently, he answered with an open and firm gaze. Nodding his head, the servant of the law looked at Defne. She looked bewildered and scared. Not at all what a confident woman in her decision should be. The judge looked strictly into her eyes and asked:
"Madame Defne, do you love your husband?"