The scream was creepy, desperate. It scared and at the same time sobering up. And came from the side of the exit to the roof. Everyone, as if on command, turned their heads there. A woman screamed. Pain and disgust distorted her face and it lost its age.
- Mother! - Mert rushed to her, but she stopped him with a movement of her hand and went to Talat standing on all fours. Her eyes burned with fierce anger.
"Stand up," she ordered, and he staggered to his feet. The woman looked into his swimming, crazy eyes and asked: - Where do you come such monsters? Where from? You do want women available for your perverted fantasies! Need to tarnish and cripple a worthy life? For what? Why did you stain her? What is her fault? For her purity and beauty?
- Yes! - Kivanc yelled and from rage, his eyes popped out of their sockets. Blood spray flew from his mouth, and the woman staggered back. - Yes! - He jabbed a finger at Omer. - He, so correct and principled, loved her - purely untouchable. And now, when my fingerprints are on her, can he love her?
Behind Omer, Defne sobbed and moaned. His reaction was lightning fast. He rushed from Denise's hands and grabbed Kivanc by the throat with one hand. Fingers tightened strongly. The bastard began to turn blue and gasp for air.
- Your fingerprints ?! - Omer scornfully threw to his face distorted by fear. - They are not and never will be! Not a single speck of dust touches Defne. You can't stain an angel. And you will choke in your mud.
Long beautiful fingers that knew how to be gentle and create beauty, and now squeezed the throat of a bastard, turned white. Kivanc's eyes rolled back and he began to wheeze. Denise jerked to drag Omer, but Defne was ahead of him. She darted to her husband, and with a trembling palm touched his shoulder.
- Beloved...
He unclenched his hands and turned quickly to her. Small, frightened, fragile, with her hair tousled and a tuxedo thrown over the dress, she looked pleadingly and with such piercing despair that Omer could not stand this look. With a groan, he hugged her and pressed her to his chest. Defne closed her eyes and grabbed the lapels of his jacket. She shook her head and, swallowing the words, she spoke frantically:
"Don't ... don't soil your hands ... he's not worth ... our lives ...
Omer breathed short and hoarse. His hands wandered chaotically across Defne's back. He pressed her to him with force, as if he wanted to absorb her, hide, warm ... and those standing around looked at them with a mixture of feelings tearing the soul. In men, eyes burned with anger and nerves pulsing on their cheeks. Mert and his mother stood in a tight hug. Tears flowed from the woman's eyes in an endless stream, and the boy, quite as an adult, stroked her head and spoke quietly in her ear.
Iz and Seda, who came running later, they watched the ugly scene with horror and keen sympathy for Defne.
Talat, holding his throat, lay on the gray concrete. He wheezed and spit upon curses. Sinan came closer and, scornfully kicking him in the side, asked:
- What will we do with this one? Call the police?
Defne started up. She raised her head and looked imploringly at Sinan, then at Tranba, and finally at Omer.
"Don't need the police," she pleaded. - Please!
- Defne?! Omer looked blankly into her face. - What do you mean do not need? Attempting rape is a crime. This bastard should answer for it.
- Omer, this is Turkey! Turkey! In half an hour, the whole press of Istanbul will be here. How so! Such a scandal. But they will not condemn him, but me! My name will be mixed with mud! I will be branded with shame. They will make fun of my relatives! They will say - a sluttish girl! The morning after the wedding she returned home ... seduced men ... grandmother will not survive this ... - Defne covered her face with her hands and burst into tears.
Omer wrapped her nape with his palm and spoke with feverish conviction:
- Darling, what are you saying? I will not allow this. No one will say a single bad word about you...
"They will say," as if on command, all heads turned to the woman who screamed so desperately a few minutes ago. She spoke with bitter confidence and looked at Omer. "You cannot shut everyone's mouths." Defne is right. This is Turkey. Here, the man is always right, and she is to blame for the violence against the woman. She looked wrong, dressed incorrectly, behaved improperly ... So she is guilty - and not the monster in a masculine guise, which ..., - she closed her eyes and inhaled frantically.
"Omer," Tranba spoke up, "publicity is unnecessary." It will harm primarily Defne herself. And the punishment should be harsher than a couple of years in prison," he squatted in front of a whining Talat and pulled his head by the hair. - Choose you to go to army service or.....
"There is a war," Kivanc whined. "So there will be something to do, instead of harassing women," Denise grinned wryly. "Although ... after castration ..."
Horror was reflected in Talat's eyes.
- Not!!! He screamed and crawled to Defne's feet. She stepped back squeamishly, and Omer slid her behind his back and covered her with herself. Kivanc was lying at his feet and, smearing tears and blood on his face, begged: - No, you don't! I will leave Turkey! Forever and ever. My feet will not stop here. Just not castration ... and not in the army. I am white ... blond ... I won't survive there for a week!
Omer silently hugged Defne's shoulders and led her to the door and inside the building. Mert and his mother followed. Tranba dialed his security service on the phone and ordered them to immediately drive up to the Raffles Istanbul and climb to the roof. Then he nodded to Sinan to take the girls away and made a couple more calls.
- Denise! Denise! After all, you are a man! You should understand me. I wanted her, but she pushed me away. Also this Omer Iplikci. I hate him. I wanted to destroy him ... so he wouldn't stand up anymore! - Kivanc crawled on his knees and grabbed his legs. - Let me go. I swear I'll leave. No one will know anything. I didn't do anything to her. Didn't even kiss her! Why you doing this to me!!!
- For what? - Denise looked down at him. The fire of hatred and fierce rage burned in his gaze. - You still ask for what? Fates and lives of beautiful women break down because of villains like you. They are going away. First, depressed, and then to the other world. So don't try to make me feel pity for you. You deserve your punishment.
Several black-clad men went onto the roof and walked over to Tranba and the whining Talat. One of them, tall, muscular with a thick beard and an impenetrable gaze of steel eyes, turned to Denise:
"What will be the order, boss?
"Tranba pointed to Talat and ordered:
- Take him. You will bring to the Doctor, and then along the usual route.
Kivanc cried out and knelt:
- I beg you! Just not the army. For the sake of my mother! She can't stand it ... I will fly to her in Athens and will never appear in Turkey again, I promise!
Denise looked at the man with steel eyes and nodded.
***
Mert led Omer and the trembling Defne out into the street through the back door. Fortunately, they did not meet anyone along the road and Defne, who was dying from humiliation and shame, did not receive an additional dose of curious glances. Omer called Sukru from the elevator, and the car was already waiting at the door. The faithful driver looked at Defne with compassion and silently opened the back door. She just as silently climbed into the seat. Omer shook hands with Mеrt, and when he held out his hand, he shook it tightly and thanked:
- Thank you, brother! I will never forget what you did today for Defne. If it weren't for you ..., he didn't finish, but both understood WHAT would happen if Omer was late even for a few minutes.
"Take care of her," Mert answered earnestly.
Omer nodded his head and got into the car. Defne, crouching down, huddled into a corner and stared blankly out the window. He caught her and pulled her to him. He hugged and laid her bent head on his shoulder. She did not cry. She only trembled and clenched her teeth tightly. And this trembling pain sounded in his chest. He scolded himself: why did he go down? Why did he leave her alone in this damned, luxurious hall among such a seemingly worthy public? Why didn't he save her? What kind of man is he if he cannot protect his beloved from evil? Powerlessness and guilt burned with fire and did not allow him to breathe. The air was bitter and there was a taste of metal in his mouth. He had never felt so sick in his life as now...
He brought her into the house in his arms. Sukru obligingly opened the door, and then closed it behind and lock it with a key. Fencing off from the cruel world. Leaving them together. To consol ... reassure ...to heal abrasions on bodies and pain in souls.
Omer, with his precious burden, went up to their room and put her on the edge of the bed. Dropping to one knee in front of her, he took her hands in his and wanted to kiss, but Defne did not allow. Shivering with her whole body, she removed them and hid them between her knees.
"I need a shower," she said in a choked voice.
"Yes, of course," Omer rose to his feet. - And while I change clothes and make tea. Do you want some tea?
Tea? After this, one can drink tea?
- I want. Black, strong and sugar-free.
Omer's eyes filled with tears.
Defne closed the bathroom door with a latch and began frenziedly pulling off her clothes. The Tuxedo of Sinan. The small black dress with a satin insert on her chest, which she wore with such joy and anticipation of a miracle a few hours ago. The lace underwear. Everything flew into the basket.
She needs to ask Zehra to take the tuxedo to dry cleaning tomorrow and throw out the rest. She will never wear this dress again. Never.
Shoes were the last to fall on the floor. The gift from Omer. So precious ... put on for the first time ... Do not think! Do not think about it! She rushed into the shower and hooked her shoulder on the door. A burning pain caused her to sharply breathe in the air. Defne looked at her hand. A long abrasion began at the shoulder and stretched to the elbow itself. It burned between the shoulder blades. Probably there, too, was skin stripped. Wincing, she closed the door and turned on the burning hot water. Tight jets hit the abrasions and caused severe pain. But Defne was glad of it. She wanted it. She wanted the physical pain to drown out the mental and ease the sickening disgust. She was cold. Space the size of the universe gaped in her soul, and Defne thought she would never fill it, she would never warm.
Traces remained on her. Sticky, dirty traces of a vile, disgusting person. She rubbed and rubbed her skin with a hard washcloth, trying to wash them off, tear off with the skin. But they were not washed off either from the body or from the soul. There, in her chest, it remained just as dirty and dreary.
Omer changed clothes and went downstairs. He thoroughly washed his hands under the kitchen faucet and started making tea. Pulling the sleeves of the home sweater, he concentrated on measuring tea leaves into a teapot, poured boiling water over them, and he repeated again and again, like a mantra:
"Black, strong, sugar-free. Black, strong, sugar-free... "
A door slammed upstairs and footsteps were heard. Omer left the kettle and went out to the stairs. Defne went down. In gray trousers and a gray, big sweater that wrapped her from her neck almost to her knees. Like armor...
She cаme and sat at the table. Omer silently poured tea into a large, white cup and set it in front of her. Defne clasped the cup in hands and closed her eyes. And then she took a sip.
Black, strong, sugar-free...
Allah, how she wants to cry...
She swallowed the strong, tart liquid until the cup was empty. Then she silently went to the sink and turned on the water. The cup fell out of her hand and Defne covered her face with her hands. Omer suddenly stood by and hugged her. Gently and carefully pressed to his chest and began to rock her, like a child.
"Let it be a bad dream," Defne whispered. - Just a dream. I will wake up, and everything is in order... " she lowered her hands and raised her face to him. Her gaze, pure and pleading, hurt his heart like a blade. "It won't be okay, right?" I am not dreaming.
She cried. Omer grabbed her in his arms and carried her to the sofa in the living room. He sat down and set her shivering, slim body on his lap. He stroked her hair, back, hands and whispered incoherent words of comfort. Defne, wiping her tears with her palms, asked:
- Why me? What did I do wrong? Why did he choose me among all the other women?
Omer pressed his cheek to her temple and closed his eyes. He was looking for words. The most needed. The most correct. Those who can fix the broken world inside his beloved, precious girl. He spoke abruptly, choked. The velvet notes disappeared and from the hoarse sounds of his voice, Defne became even more painful.
"You are an angel, my soul ... a pure, flawless angel." Dirty people hate cleanliness ... because against its background their dirt looks even more vile and repulsive. And they are trying to tarnish ... but it is useless," Omer swallowed a lump in his throat and spoke louder: "You are the purest, brightest woman in the world, beloved. " It is my fault that I did not save you from this creature."
Defne shook her head in protest, but Omer did not allow her to object. He touched a finger to her lips and ordered: - Do not argue. It's my fault. But I swear it won't happen again. I will protect you every minute of your life. I keep my eyes on you. No one will ever harm you again.
Defne bit her lower lip painfully. She believed Omer, but ... even he could not erase the vile, sticky cobwebs, which entangled her from the inside and prevented the heat from penetrating to the heart. No one can do it. She will always be cold now ... She sobbed frantically and Omer impulsively squeezed his hands. Defne jerked and, groaning from a sharp pain, pressed her hand to her shoulder.
- What is there? He scared scrambled and took the edge of her sweater.
She clung to his wrist and stopped his hand.
- It's nothing. Just a scratch.
"Defne, let me see." He persistently pulled the sweater up.
- Omer, do not! - she cringed, but could not ignore the anxiety and crazy fear in his eyes. She released her hand from her sleeve and showed an abrasion. Omer turned pale and gritted his teeth. He gently touched the torn skin, and then ordered firmly and imperiously:
- Take off your sweater.
Defne obeyed. She pulled coarse wool over her head and remained in a thin white T-shirt on which Omer noticed bloody droplets just above the shoulder blades. The fury swept over him. The desire to strangle the bastard rose in a wave and became uncontrollable. Defne is so tender and fragile. How could someone want to hurt her?
Pain! Rage gave way to pangs of compassion. His Defne hurts! He carefully put her onto the sofa and asked:
- Sit down. I'm coming now.
In a cabinet in the kitchen, he found a first-aid kit and took out antiseptic and sterile wipes from it. Grabbing another patch, he returned to Defne.
"Darling, let's take off your t-shirt," he asked gently and Defne nodded. Mechanically, as а robot, took the edge and pulled up. Omer helped her. He gently pulled the fabric so that it would not injure the wound once again and threw the t-shirt into the corner of the sofa. Defne covered her breasts with her hands and lowered her head. Omer carefully examined her body and again began to boil with anger.
Wound on the arm and, slightly smaller, on the back below the neck. On the ribs and forearms, there are red marks that will become hematomas tomorrow. He touched them carefully, gently. First with fingers, then with lips. Trying to take the pain and soothe. But Defne stretched out like a string and froze in tension. Omer's heart ached. He understood why Defne was not pleased by his touch, but it was not easier for him from this.
"I will burn with an antiseptic," he said hoarsely and added: "It will hurt."
"I will bear it," Defne answered choked.
The pain that burned her heart now is much stronger. She felt dirty. Neither hot water nor shower gel washed away the vile touch of Talat. When Omer touched her, it seemed to her that he, too, was getting dirty. But he should not. Never.
Omer pressed an antiseptic sprayer and the liquid coated evenly her back. Her shoulder blades came together and Defne sucked in air through her teeth. Omer began to blow on the wound. And Defne became easier. As if he blew not on her back, but a burnt soul.
Omer sealed the scratches on her back and treated the one on her hand in the same way. It burned again. Again he blows. And again she felt better.
When the scratch on her arm was sealed, Defne reached for the t-shirt, but Omer intercepted her.
- It's dirty. "I'll bring another one," he said, and jumping over two steps, he rushed upstairs for a clean T-shirt.
As soon as he disappeared, Defne groaned and buried her face in her hands. His care healed, but at the same time tore her soul. What is it for him? For what? He is the best man in the world! And he did not deserve a wife to whom other people's hands touched.
***
Iz and Denise Tranba, the two of them returned from the reception, which began so merrily and joyfully, but ended in disaster. Denise let the driver go and sat behind the wheel. He concentratedly drove the car and his face remained gloomy and impenetrable.
Iz was looking out the window. The car flew like an arrow and night lights behind glass merged into a shining strip. So bright and festive. Not at all in the mood. On her soul was dreary. Like film footage of the recent incident was changing before her eyes in terrible pictures. Defne looking like a broken doll. Distraught with fury, Omer. Shocked Sinan. An unfamiliar woman who screamed so that frost ran down her skin. And Denise ... Cold and collected externally, but there is such pain and hatred in his eyes that the heart of Iz itself was torn from compassion.
"Let's sit on the promenade," he said suddenly, and Iz shuddered. And then she nodded her head in agreement.
Denise stopped the car at the curb and together they slowly wandered to a bench by the water. A wind came from the strait and blew coldly on Iz's naked arms. She cringed. Denise took off his tuxedo and threw it over her shoulders. It immediately became warm. Both hands and heart.
Silently, they sat on a bench and stared with unseeing eyes at the lights of the Bosphorus Bridge reflecting in the dark water.
"Will you do what you said with Talat?" - asked Iz.
- Yes. He deserved, - not a single muscle flinched on Denise's face.
"That is so," she agreed. "But castration ... the medieval method ... without trial and ... I don't know ... it looks wild. And this deportation to the border ... where the war is ... and, as I understand it, without documents ... it's almost a death sentence.
Denise grinned crookedly with his lips and closed his eyes. When opened, pain splashed in them.
- It is immediately clear that you have lived half your conscious life in a law-abiding, civilized Europe where the law is one for all and everyone is equal before it - men and women, rich and poor. But here it is not so. Not at all," he pressed his palm to his forehead and ran it to his chin. It was as if he wanted to take off his mask. And it fеll, exposing bitterness and hatred. "My mother, after such an attack and rape, was never able to return to normal life." Depression broke her and led to death. With all the authority of my father, the police did not punish the offender. As an adult, I did it myself. By that time, there was more than one victim and complete impunity on his account, - he spoke abruptly and deafly. Exposing his soul.
Iz understood this, as well as the fact that perhaps she was the only one in front of whom the ironic and arrogant Tranba took off his mask and showed his pain.
"This bastard, he's not the only one you punished ... yes?" She asked. But Denise did not answer. Only under the eye а muscle twitched and lips tightened into a thin line.
"Aren't you afraid that any of them will return and take revenge on you?"
"He will not risk it," he answered confidently and asked a question from which Iz was taken aback: "Do you still love Omer?"
"Uh-weird question," she answered perplexedly. - I love him, of course. As a childhood friend...
"I'm talking about another love," Denise rudely interrupted her. - For the other love, the one with which a woman loves a man.
Iz turned to the strait and began to carefully, too carefully examine the multi-colored glare in the dark water. She is Iz! Cheeky, eccentric, free. Confident in herself and her actions. She is not used to reporting to anyone and opening her soul. But this man who excited her feelings and thoughts just opened his ... She made up her mind.
"I don't know if I ever loved Omer." Probably I loved him, in youth. But even then I knew that he was not for me. He was too right, too honest and principled. Too ... impeccable. Perfect. He was always confident in his actions and his choice. God. And I am a human. With flaws and mistakes, and desires. I wanted him next to me ... and at the same time did not want to. That's why I left Istanbul. And when I returned and saw the man, what he had become ... and even this his incomprehensible love for a completely ordinary girl...
"Defne is not ordinary," Denise interrupted, and a needle pierced her heart painfully. But she did not show.
- Now I know about it. But then ... she seemed to me just like that - an ordinary, naive girl. And I thought, if Omer was carried away by such a girl, then he simply must fall in love with me again, "she giggled mockingly. "What a presumptuous fool, huh?"
"No," Denise answered seriously and turned her face to himself. His eyes, dark, burning, looked straight into the soul. "You just lost your way and got confused."
The heart in her chest made a somersault and started to beat often.
"Have I found the right one now?" - looking straight into his eyes she asked.
"Yes," he answered without a shadow of doubt and leaned toward her parted lips. - You found him.
***
At the other end of the city, another couple was sitting in the car.
Sinan and Seda, shattered and depressed, looked into the darkness behind the glass and were silent.
"It's so lousy on my soul," Sinan broke the silence and his words became a catalyst.
"He molested her before," Seda spoke sharply and closed her mouth with her hand.
- What? - Sinan turned pale and exhaled. "But Omer ..."
- He did not know. No one knew except me. Defne didn't want to disturb Omer ... she was sure she could handle it ...
Seda sobbed and lowered her head. Sinan closed his eyes and shook his head.- I understand her. He would go crazy and smear this moron on the wall. Although ... it would be better to beat him up then and completely protect Defne from him. And maybe today ...
He did not finish. Yes, and it was not necessary. Both understood that THAT would not have happened today if Omer had learned about the harassment of Kivanc earlier.
"I feel guilty," Seda admitted, and her voice trembled. "But I could not think that he was capable of such a thing." I thought - he is an ordinary womanizer, who clings to every girl he likes. But it turned out ...
"Do not torture yourself," Sinan lightly touched her hand. "If one knew where he would fall ..."
"Please don't tell Omer," Seda asked. "He will get angry at Defne, and she doesn't need it at all right now."
- Do not worry, I will not say. He doesn't need that either. He will lose his mind at the thought that Defne herself resisted the sick bastard, and he did not know anything and could not defend her in time.
"Thank you," Seda thanked, and grabbed the doorknob. - I have to go. It's midnight, and tomorrow is a working day.
"Wait," Sinan grabbed her hand and turned her to face him. Excited, took a breath, and blurted out:
- Do you have someone? Boyfriend or a Groom?
Seda opened her eyes in surprise but answered honestly.
- Not. I never had time for this. The study, work, career. Then Nisa got sick and I was not up to personal life.
Sinan beamed. Exhaled lightly and said:
- Well! Then I seriously declare that I am going to courtship you.
Seda did not answer. She opened the car door and got out. Sinan hurriedly followed after her. He looked at the slender, receding figure and his face was getting grim with every step of Seda. At the door of the house, she stopped and looked around. She smiled a little mockingly and said:
- Probably, I should also answer in all seriousness. I agree.
The door closed behind her, and Sinan continued to stand as if struck by thunder. Agree? Allah! Agree! He jumped in place and, throwing his head back, laughed into the night sky. Whatever one says, no matter what troubles happen, but life is still good!
***
In a small apartment in one of Istanbul's neighborhoods, a sad mother and a son were sitting at the table - he was still just a boy, but the blue eyes were so penetrating and adult. In front of them stood untouched cups with tea. The woman mechanically stirred with a spoon the amber liquid and did not stop looking at the golden sparks that flashed in its depths.
"Mom," said the boy. - Drink tea, and it's time to sleep. I'm going to school tomorrow, and you're going to work.
The woman woke up and laid the spoon on the saucer.
- Yes, son. You're right. "She stroked his naughty, pitch-black curls. "You drink too." Tea is the best way to calm your thoughts.
Mert frowned. His thoughts are hard to calm today. However, his mother's, too.
"Mom, don't think about the past." And don't think about dad and grandfather either. They are morons! We do not need such ones. We have each other. This is the main thing.
The woman smiled. Sad and affectionate. She kissed his high forehead and hugged her son tightly.
"You're right, my lion." We have each other. This is the main thing.
***
Omer thought he could not sleep tonight. But when the exhausted Defne nevertheless fell asleep, he also closed his eyes. And when he opened it, the room was bright and empty. Looking around with dismay, he fell out of bed and ran out into the corridor. The bathroom was empty, and down below there was a clatter of utensils. He ran down.
Defne was making breakfast in yesterday's big sweater and hair tied at the back of her head. She seemed calm and focused. When she saw her husband, she smiled with her lips. Her eyes remained sad and empty.
- Good morning! Have you taken a shower yet?
So mundane, as if this is the only thing that worries her now.
"Good morning, my soul," palms itched to hug her, but the barrier inside stopped him. He was afraid to hurt her. And not just the bruised back and arm. - Not yet.
- Then run. Breakfast will be ready in fifteen minutes. Just in time.
"Defne," Omer stepped closer and looked into her face. - How do you feel?
And again, her lips stretched out in a smile that did not reach empty eyes.
- All is well. I'm fine. Hurry up with the shower.
He nodded silently and wandered upstairs. In the bathroom, he hit the wall with his fist and pressed his forehead against it.
Defne suffers.
And hides this suffering deep inside. But he has no idea what to do about it. How to help her survive the trauma and restore the former, happy and carefree Defne to life.
When he, dressed in jeans and a green pullover, came back down, the table in the dining room was already set for breakfast. Defne dressed in a strict business suit and buttoned-up blouse stood by the window. Hearing the steps, she turned and pointed to a chair:
"Sit down, I'll pour you some coffee."
"Wait," Omer caught her hand. - Are you going to go to work?
She shrugged in surprise.
- Yes. Today is a working day and I have a lot to do.
- Maybe we won't go? We stay at home. You will have a good rest. They will understand.
Defne gently released her hand.
"Omer, I'm not tired." And there is a lot of work. Ten days later, a trip to Milan, and so much has not been done. Let's not linger. I'm really fine with me.
"Good? Then why do you have eyes like a beaten dog ?! " - He wanted to scream to her but said nothing.
She needs time. And love. And care. Defne will forget what happened yesterday, and they will be happy again.
***
Omer led her to the very door of the office building. He examined the lobby in alarm and suggested:
- Let me guide you to the office.
Defne shook her head and protested:
- Beloved, it's impossible. If I am now afraid of every rustle, then what kind of life will I have? You see, my fear is his victory. I do not want him to win.
Omer understood that she was right. The mind understood it, but the heart refused to obey the mind and, like crazy, went from fear in a tachycardia. And yet he managed. He kissed her forehead and let go.
"Okay ... run!" And call as soon as you find yourself in the office. And then call every half hour. I will call too.
She nodded and disappeared behind the sliding door.
Having reached his office building, Omer realized that if he could not see her for several hours, he will go crazy with fear. He entered the elevator with the firm intention to speak with Denise as soon as possible about dissolving Defne's contract and her return to Passionis. He almost ran down the office corridor and, closing the cabinet door behind him, grabbed the phone from his pocket and frantically struck the screen. Defne answered after the first ring.
"I just got in and haven't managed to call you yet. Everything is good.
"I'm worried ... call me more often." Good? He asked.
"Good," she promised.
- Defne!
- Yes?
- I love you!
- I, too. Do not worry. Everything will be fine with me.
But it wasn't good. Defne was brave before Omer, but when she approached the elevator fifteen minutes ago, she began a panic attack. Her chest clenched in a spasm. She tried to breathe air, but her lungs refused to accept it. Defne realized that she could not enter the booth alone. Just can not.
Seda saved the situation. She walked quietly and stopped nearby. She smiled encouragingly and, taking her arm, led Defne into the elevator. The painful knot in the solar plexus area relaxed and breathing became easier. Allah is merciful, it's good that there is a friend nearby.
A second panic attack occurred in the hallway. The door to Talat's office was open and steps were heard inside. The horror that maybe he is there now, covered her. Seda went to her room and Defne was alone in the corridor. Freezing, she stopped by and could not budge. But not a vile blond man with pale blue eyes came out of the office, but the strict Ruya. In her hands, she held a large cardboard box.
"Good morning," she greeted Defne and, as usual, pursed her lips condemningly.
"Good," she answered and nodded to the box. - What is it?
"Mr. Kivanc is no longer working here," Ruya explained. - Mr. Denise ordered me to collect his personal belongings and transfer them to the guard.
Relief, huge as the ocean, covered her. Defne inhaled deeply. It's true! She will never again see his sickening, vile face, will not shrink from fear and disgust. And, perhaps, over time, she will be able to forget last night.
Defne vaguely remembered Tranba's words about punishment yesterday. So that was not just bullying. He was serious and ... castration. A terrible punishment. Defne listened to herself.
No sympathy, no ordinary human pity. Nothing. The only relief that she can be released from the fear. This bastard will not bring unhappiness and pain to any woman.
She went into her office. She opened the window wide and sat down at the table. Her head was empty, her soul was cold. And it seemed that this emptiness and cold would have no end.
And then Omer called and said that he loves her. This was enough to flare up a tiny spark in the ashes that her soul was now.
She was not given the time to feel bad and to plunge into a depression. First, a girl came from the design department and, smiling sweetly, said that since Mr. Talat was not here anymore, Mr. Tranba said that for all creative questions to contact Mrs. Defne. And there are a lot of them. Defne sighed and plunged headlong into the solution of these very issues. And solved them almost before lunch. At noon, Omer came and took her to a cafe for lunch. Defne did not want to go where there will be a lot of people. It seemed to her that everyone around saw a web of dirt on her and looked condemningly. But her husband, unaware of her fears, was adamant. She goes to lunch with him. Immediately.
Fears did not materialize. The people around were busy with their affairs, and no one paid any attention to Defne, and no one looked at her unkindly. She calmed up and even managed to swallow some soup. But pilaf and stuffed eggplant flatly refused. Omer frowned but did not insist. He also was not hungry, but he understood that falling into a stupor and depression was not an option. Defne now needs a strong man nearby, and he will be just that. And with the fact that a hellish fire burns in his chest and his heart feels sick and wants to howl, he will cope.
After lunch, there was a lull in the office. Nobody looked at Defne and she, wandering around the study, decided to start sketching. But she could not draw shoes. It was as if someone was holding the hand and did not let the pencil touch the paper. Then she let go of herself and allowed her to draw what was in her thoughts and hurt in her heart. Sharp lines and aggressive patterns appeared on paper. They intertwined and took shape in a necklace of amazing beauty. Tall as a stand-up collar, it covered the neck and promised the owner its protection.
Defne was so carried away by the drawing that she did not hear the steps outside the door and, when it opened, flinched in surprise. Tranba entered the office. He behaved as usual, but something subtly changed in him. Look, facial expression, gait. Everything was as before and at the same time different. Ignoring Defne's attentive gaze, he sat down in a chair and asked:
- How are you?
"It was as if my soul had been pumped out of me, and then filled up with ice crystals," she answered honestly.
- I understand...
Defne believed him. He understood. She saw it in his face and eyes. But she didn't feel any better.
"Forgive me for not recognizing the bastard in Talat before and protecting you from his harassment." If I knew...
- Do not apologize. How could you know - Defne switched to "you" and it seemed correct. Yesterday evening erased the border. There was no longer a big boss and a subordinate, but there were friends whom the misfortune connected more strongly than the years of friendly relations.
"Thank you," her gratitude was sincere and enormous. "Why did you do this for me?" Risking a reputation and even freedom for the sake of a stranger?
- Firstly, you are not a stranger. You are my best designer and the hope of Tranba's company. Secondly, those who commit violence against women should be punished. And not a couple of years in prison, after which they go free and continue their vile deeds. But with severe punishment. Without the slightest opportunity to harm someone again. But don't think about it. Just know that the person who harmed you is punished and will never appear in your life again. And yet - don't you dare blame yourself for anything, - he ordered firmly.
"You are a worthy woman and a wonderful person." The fact that some men turn out to be scum is their problem, not the women they choose as victims. Understood me?
Defne nodded.
- That's good. Repeat this as a mantra and do not let the scum, which is not worth the dust under your feet, break your life.
Defne's eyes filled with tears. The voice did not want to obey her at all, and she only smiled - with gratitude and sincere admiration.
"No, we didn't agree that way," Denise said indignantly. - Defne, please stop crying. The only thing my soul cannot stand is female tears. I then get lost and turn into a powerless idiot. Let's talk about business better. "He looked down at the table and pulled the drawing toward him. - What were you working on?
Defne only shrugged and, wiping away her tears, answered.
- Yes, nonsense got into my head. Do not pay attention to. Sketches for the winter collection are ready. Tomorrow I will translate them into an electronic version and it will be possible to submit to the team to work on the concept and presentation.
"Wait," Tranba, putting his hand forward, stopped her quick speech.
- Did you draw that?
From the sight of the necklace, his eyes lit up with admiration. Defne, not understanding his reaction, nodded bewilderedly.
- I did.
- Girl, do you understand how talented you are? Asked the astounded Trаnba. "What I see now, if you find a skilled craftsman and turn it into gold and stones, will become a work of art." Amazing!
Defne, don't quit. Draw more. This sketch is not just light, it has a powerful energy. You simply do not have the right to bury this part of your talent.
-Are you serious? Asked Defne and her eyes brightened.
- Absolutely! He looked at his watch and frowned in annoyance. "I'm leaving now, and you close the door and start to sketch." I will order that no one bothers you. And when there are enough sketches gathered, we will think about how to bring your brilliant work to life.
Tranba left. And Defne felt that the emptiness inside her had acquired boundaries. She was no longer endless as it seemed at night. Omer, Seda, Denise diminished it. The first with love, the second with her participation, the third whit his faith in her. Still, despite all the troubles and blows of fate, Allah loves her. So she, too, must be strong and grateful. And make every effort to wash away this sticky, dirty web that Talat's hands left on her.
At home, she first went to the shower. Omer was surprised but said nothing. He changed his clothes and went to the kitchen to cook dinner. And Defne washed the cobwebs. Under hot water, she tore it off with a hard brush and repeated:
- It's not my fault! I'm not guilty! Not guilty!
And it succumbed. Defne physically felt how cleaner not only the body but also the soul. She felt better. She threw back her head and set her face under the burning jets. Water mixed with tears and dissolved them. And each subsequent teardrop carried away bitterness to the place of which relief came.
Defne went down and Omer, expecting to see a big sweater on her, froze, fearing to frighten away timid joy. She was wearing a blue shirt and white jeans. The hair was not hidden in a tight knot, but freely scattered over the shoulders, and the emptiness in the eyes was replaced by a sad but alive light. Looking over his wife from head to toe, he swallowed and immediately stopped himself. He smiled affectionately and nodded at the steaming dish:
"I made your favorite pasta with sauce and salad." And Zehra baked lemon cake and made a sorbet. It remains only to lay the table and we can have dinner.
- I want pasta. And the salad. And the cake. I'm hungry.
A timid, as if an apologetic smile appeared on her face, from which stone fall from Omer's soul. He took a deep breath and said:
- And also there is ice cream. Pistachio. A whole bucket.
Defne's smile grew brighter, and her eyes sparkled either from tears, or from joy, or endless gratitude.
At dinner, Omer turned into a caring gentleman. He surrounded Defne with care and attention. He smiled and even tried to joke. Just he did not touch her and did not kiss her. Not once. Like later, when, turning off the light, they were sitting on the couch and looking at the fire in a lit fireplace. And when they went to bed, he only chastely touched his lips to her forehead and moved to his side of the bed. Defne was cold again. And scared.
Has the horror experienced left its mark that will never disappear?
***
Late October morning, frowned with gray clouds and threatened to bring cold rain on the city. Omer cringed and regretted not taking a coat from the car. But he did not return. There are only ten meters to go, and he will reach the goal.
In the last ten days, the neighborhood has not changed at all. All the same narrow streets and dull painted in green and brown color houses. All the same gossipers at the house in which Defne and he once lived. All the same dirty kids rush along the road. But the air itself has changed. Bitter notes appeared in it. Probably from the bonfires that the fishermen burned on the coast of the bay. Or from the hopelessness that Omer felt the more sharply, the closer he came to the right house. It was he who radiated this bitterness and longing.
He stopped in front of an old but carefully painted door, and knocked. It opened immediately as if they were waiting for him. The woman on the threshold had beautiful, blue eyes and pitch-black hair. There was no surprise or question in her gaze. Only piercing sadness.
"Hello," Omer bowed his head. "I came to thank you for your son ... and talk."