Fikret entered the office and stopped at the threshold. Defne, folding her arms over her chest, stood by the window and looked at Istanbul bathing in the winter sun rays. Hearing the sound of the door closing, she looked around.
"Good morning," the girl quietly greeted.
"Good morning," Defne replied, staring at her face.
Fikret looked strange. Pale and detached. The feverish light that had burned in her eyes for the past few weeks had gone. Her glance acquired clarity and depth. She was silent, and Defne spoke first:
- Alina said - you want urgently to talk with me. I am listening to you.
"I came to ask you for forgiveness," Fikret spoke in her cold voice.
Defne raised her eyebrows in surprise.
- Аbout what?
- For the story with the letter. For my harassment on Omer. For the stinging ridicule to you. "And for wanting to kill you and your child," she added mentally.
Defne was amazed. But she didn't show it. Remaining calm and collected, she answered:
"Fikret, I don't know what made you suddenly change your mind." And to be honest, I don't want to know. Your apologies are accepted. I do not hold anger on you. But I beg you - leave us, Omer and me, alone. We do not want our orbits to intersect.
Fikret looked sadly into Defne's wary eyes and nodded her head.
- I understand. Don't worry, after the charity evening, I will leave Istanbul. I will work in a village for orphans. I decided to devote my life to them.
- A noble decision.
"You don't believe that I can be noble?" - In the voice of Fikret sounded bitterness.
"I believe," Defne answered without hesitation. She went to the table and began to sort out papers on it. Not looking at the uninvited guest, reasonably continued to say: - In every person, there is both good and bad. It depends only on him on which side he will choose. If you have chosen the side of goodness and nobility, I am only glad for this.
- Mom helped me to choose.
Defne shot her a surprised look.
- Your mother? - asked again. "But she is dead."
- Yes. At my birth. All my life, I thought that no one needs and no one loves me. And yesterday my grandmother gave me her diary. I read, - tears glistened in Fikret's eyes - and realized that they loved me. She loved me more than life, and these are not just words. Mom sacrificed herself so that I could be born.
Tears rolled down her cheeks, but the girl did not notice them. In Defne's chest, pity embraced her heart. She could no longer remain indifferent.
- Was your mother sick? - asked sympathetically.
- Yes. Severe diabetes. Now medicine has stepped forward, but twenty-seven years ago, for such patients, the desire to have a child became a sentence. Doctors did everything possible, but a miracle did not happen.
"I'm sorry," Defne said sincerely. Her hand instinctively covered her stomach. "But, I understand your mother."
"Because you are as bright a soul as she was ... Now I understand why people like you love so selflessly." With all their heart until the last minute.
Defne looked incredulously. Is this Fikret? Although, once upon a time, when they first met, she was like that. Magnanimous and ready to help.
"People love not for something ... but because they fall in love." Just the planets converge. It is fate.
"No," Fikret disagreed. - People love someone because one heart is attracted to another. Warm heart. It recognizes it between thousand. But, unfortunately, not always that, another heart reciprocates. And there is no one's fault.
"I'm glad you realized that."
-So do I.
An awkward silence hung in the office. All words said, secrets revealed, and idle chatter was not appropriate.
"I guess I'm holding you back," Fikret said. - Goodbye. Thank you for listening.
She went to the door, but Defne stopped her.
- Wait! - Fikret looked around. "You said your grandmother gave you the diary." If she is alive, why did you consider yourself useless and unloved?
Fikret smiled sadly.
- Because mom was very beloved. Grandmother could not come to terms with her death. And dad, buried himself alive. It happens. The mistake of one, the wrong choice of the second, breaks the life of the whole family - having finished the phrase, she again moved to the exit.
Again Defne stopped her.
"Fikret," the girl froze but did not look back. "Your mother made the right choice."
"Thank you," she answered and went out the door.
Defne went to the chair and sat on the edge. She looked thoughtfully in front of her, and then tore off and ran to the top floor. Nodding to Derya, without knocking, she burst into Omer's office. He stood by the window and spoke on the phone. Defne walked up to him, hugged his waist and pressed her cheek to his back. Without stopping the conversation, Omer covered her palms with his free hand and squeezed lightly. Defne's face lit up with a soft smile.
Hastily saying goodbye to his interlocutor, Omer turned to his wife. Taking her chin, he raised her face to himself and looked into her eyes.
- What happened? - asked in alarm.
"I missed you," she answered.
Omer smiled. Covering her nape with a large palm, he pressed her head to his chest and kissed the top of hеr hair.
"Kitten," he said gently. - Come to me.
Defne trustingly rubbed her cheek against the soft layer of his gray jacket.
- How do you smell so good? When I breathe in your scent, all the problems fade into the background.
"So, is there a problem?" - Omer pulled away and, raising an eyebrow inquiringly, looked into her face. Defne answered with an uncertain grimace. "So, let's sit down, and you will tell me everything," he ordered and led his wife to two armchairs facing each other. Having seated her in one, he sank into another, took her cold hands in his hands and ordered:
- Tell me.
- Fikret came to me.
- What? Cried, Omer. "She upset you again?" No, this woman does not understand the human language. I have to act differently...
- Shhh! - interrupted his angry tirade Defne. "She didn't want to upset me." She came to apologize.
- To apologize?! He got angry. "Let her shove her apologies ..."
- Omer! - She looked at him reproachfully, and then smiled and gently touched the black stubble of his beard. - Take it easy. Sometimes people make mistakes, and then repent of them and ask for forgiveness.
"And what made Fikret repent?" - Omer asked with an evil mockery. "Maybe because I warned about breaking all Passionis's contacts with her after the charity show?"
"No," Defne tried to stay calm, "she was convinced by her mother's diary, which many years later fell into her hands.
Omer got to his feet and began to measure the office in broad steps. Defne looked wary. She knew this habit of his and the fact that it means the boiling point of his anger. He stopped in front of her and, angrily flashing his eyes, asked:
- My love, how can one be so naive? She told you an improbable story, and you believed her!
Defne turned pale. She rose to her feet and looked at Omer with a look from which his anger instantly subsided.
- You're right. I am naive, trusting, and too easy I forgive insults. But I don't know another way. Have a good day.
She went to the door. Omer caught up with her in two steps and held her by the shoulders.
"Sorry, I said such stupidity," he said with sincere repentance. Defne silently removed his hands and moved on. "Are we going to quarrel over Fikret?" Omer shouted into her back.
Holding the doorknob, she looked around and answered:
"Not because of Fikret ...," and left the office.
Omer nervously ruffled his hair and exhaled!
"And when will you learn to keep your anger within a frame and not splash it on others?" - Sarcastically asked his inner voice. "Okay, basically, you were right, but couldn't that be said softer?"
Omer moved toward the door, but then stopped. You need to cool yourself and give Defne time to calm down. And then talk calmly and thoroughly. Did Fikret apologize? Perfectly! Let his beloved, precious wife forgive her and forget her name. Never, for anything, and in no way will Fikret Galo be in their life!
Holding back the urge to rush to Sapphire, immediately dot all and make peace, Omer sat at the table and, loading himself with work, endured steadfastly for several hours before lunch. As soon as the two hands of the clock converged at twelve, he raised, put his coat, and hurried to Sapphire.
But Defne was not there. The young secretary answered to his question: "Where is the lady-boss?" that she, together with Ms. Laura and Ms. Seda, went to lunch.
Omer cursed through gritted teeth. Clarifying their relationship in front of outsiders is the worst thing you can think. He will have to wait. He went downstairs and went outside. Looking for the baby-yellow car of Seda, he laid his hands behind his back and froze like a statue.
That's just waiting was never his strong side. Instead of calming down, he became even more nervous and angry. Remaining calm outwardly, it boiled inside like a tightly closed pot with soup over high heat. And when the yellow car stopped at the parking lot, the soup threatened to tear off the lid and splash out with a hissing fountain.
- Girls, I'm sorry! After lunch, deal without Defne. We have urgent business with her.
The wife looked at him with eyes wide with amazement and opened her mouth to be indignant, from such impudence but meeting his eyes blazing with dark fire, closed it, and silently followed Omer to the Mercedes parked in the parking lot.
Having informed Sukru that he would drive the car, Omer ordered him to go home. He helped Defne to get into the car, personally fastened her seat belt, went around the car and got behind the wheel.
- Where are we going? - Dared to ask Defne when the car went on the road and rushed off towards the Bosphorus.
"Walking in the woods," he answered impassively.
"Omer, it's cold, and I don't have clothes suitable for walking," she objected.
He glanced at her legs, covered in thin tights and shod in elegant suede ankle boots, and turned sharply in the other direction.
- And now to where? - Defne was even more confused.
- To a hotel.
- Where? - Her amazement knew no bounds. "Omer, why do we need a hotel if we have a beautiful house?"
He silently steered to an old six-story building and stopped the car. Only then he turned to her and answered:
- We will not quarrel and sort things out at home - this is, firstly.
- And secondly? - Defne asked sarcastically.
- And secondly - I do not want to do this with witnesses. This hotel has walls like a fortress. So that you can scream at me as much as you like.
- And why did you decide that I'm going to yell at you? – A dark red eyebrow arched in a perfect arc. Omer stroked it with a finger and answered:
"Because I want it." Your silence, for half a day, was enough for me. Shout, let off steam, then we make peace and forget.
While Defne was digesting his words, he got out of the car, went around it and opened the door of the passenger seat. He helped his wife go out and, without releasing her hands, took her to the hotel. She did not have time to look around, when Omer paid for the room, took the keys from the receptionist, and, in no time, both were in the elevator.
It, like the building itself, breathed antiquity - polished wood panels, dark green velvet, and bronze mirrors. But puzzled by the behavior of her husband, Defne did not notice this magnificence. She still did not understand what they were doing and why. This escape from work, an old hotel, everything was unreal like a dream.
The elevator stopped on the fourth floor and opened its patterned wings in front of them. The corridor ahead was long, echoing, and dimly lit. Lamps recessed into the gray granite walls, cast a dull glare on a dark, patterned parquet. Defne cringed. Beautiful, of course. But somehow creepy. As if in a medieval castle where a ghost is hiding around every corner. Well, Omer chose a place for reconciliation! Reminding of himself, he lightly pushed Defne in the back. She stepped out of the booth and looked around.
"We are here," he pointed to the second door on the right.
The key turned out to be modern. A thin magnetic card that Omer applied to a flickering dot on the door. Pushing it, he motioned Defne to go inside. She walked in and looked around. The room was more like a room in a palace. The walls decorated with gray-pink wallpaper, on the floor were expensive oriental carpets. A crystal chandelier with bronze hooks hangs from the ceiling and floods the room with soft golden light. Narrow windows curtained with heavy velvet curtains. From the same fabric, a bedspread on the big bed. Above its wooden headboard is a wall draped with bright silk.
"Beautiful," Defne said quietly.
Omer silently closed the door and went to her.
- It's warm here. Let's undress," he suggested and reached for the buttons on her coat.
She intercepted his hands and, push them away.
- I can.
Omer frowned but did not object. He threw off his coat, grabbed it, and hung both on a massive, wooden hanger. Having scratched his head with a nervous gesture, he looked at Defne and said:
- Sorry, I was wrong.
- About what? She asked.
- The fact that I flared up.
- Aaaa, that you got angry. Yes, of course.
He was wary. He did not like Defne's tone at all.
- Yes, that I flared up and did not find words softer.
She straightened up and crossed her arms over her chest. Looking him in the eye, she pointedly said:
"One would think that if you had softly called me a gullible fool, it would not have offended me."
Omer choked on such injustice and cried out:
"I did not call you a gullible fool!"
"In other words, but the meaning is the same," Defne retorted quite calmly.
"Beloved, but you must admit, you are too kind and often see only the good in people," he spoke a halftone quieter and walked a step closer. True, he did not dare to touch her. This calmness strained him and made him act more cautiously.
- I agree. What's next?
- Dishonest people use this quality, and you suffer. I'm scared of that!
- Allah Allah! How did I, a poor, miserable naive, survived in the neighborhood?
- Defne, do not overreact! I know that you can fend for yourself. The thing is different - you tend to trust people who do not deserve it.
"And I give a second chance," she prompted helpfully.
- And give a second chance!
Defne turned away and went to the window. Looking at the gray city outside the window, she asked:
- It's interesting, but how can one understand to give a person a second chance or not? What are the signs? How to see - did one sincerely repent of his actions, or did he have his selfish motives? Or maybe not to give? To nobody!
She turned and looked at Omer. He got cold inside. His stomach tightened in а painful spasm. Selfish bastard! After all, he is one of those who had a second chance. And his guilt before Defne is much bigger, and the pain that he brought her is stronger than Fikret's malicious deeds and offensive words.
"Or is possible happiness more important than possible new pain?" She asked the next question softly. - And everyone has the right to forgiveness?
Omer went to her. He embraced her from the back by the shoulders, pressed his cheek to her temple and whispered in repentance:
"Sorry ... I'm a fool."
She turned to face him. She looked into his eyes and smiled softly.
- Accepted. By the way, I told Fikret that she had my forgiveness, but demanded that she leave us alone. And I explained that we do not want our and hers orbits to intersect.
"And what did she answer?"
- She said that after the charity, she is leaving Istanbul for a village for orphans. She wants to dedicate her life to them.
Omer sighed and pressed his forehead to Defne's forehead.
- I am ashamed. Not knowing all the circumstances, accused you of naivety - he fell silent and gently kissed the tip of a small, straight nose. "How can I atone for my guilt?"
Defne bit her lower lip, squinted at the bed, and then looked up slyly at Omer.
"Because you brought me into a room with such a luxurious bed ..."
Omer's eyes lit up with fire.
"Defne," still not believing that he understood correctly, he asked, "you are hinting ..."
She smiled. Omer grabbed her in his arms and circled the room.
"My love, I spoke of redemption, not reward."
Defne laughed and, hugging his neck, whispered in his ear:
"Are you going to make amends or talk?"
Omer put her on her feet, burned her with gaze for an instant, and fell to her lips in a hot, ardent kiss. And then, without taking his eyes off hers, deep and shining, he pulled off the bedspread and threw it onto the floor.
"I'm going to smooth my guilt," replied impudently to her question. - For a long time and sweet. While I have enough strength, - He pushed her to the bed, and together they fell on the snow-white sheets. Omer reached for buttons on a silk blouse. Unbuttoning bowed to her ear and whispered fervently: - And I have a lot of them.
He did not lie. Higher and higher, raising Defne to heaven, he burned in the fire of desire and was reborn even strong and more irresistible. His tenderness knew no bounds. His passion burned with a hot flame, burning the thoughts, but not feelings. They only became sharper and brighter. Turned one soul for two and changed the rhythm of hearts. Defne thought she was seeing paradise.
"Do we have to get dressed?" Defne leaned on her elbow and looked into Omer's face. He lay with his eyes closed, relaxed and handsome, like a god. Slowly lifting his eyelashes, he looked into amber eyes and smiled idly.
- As you want. I paid for the room for a day. We can order dinner and stay here until the morning.
Defne looked around the room and wrinkled her cute little nose.
- Well no! She protested. - Of course, it is beautiful here, but like in a museum. Let's get back to our house.
Omer laughed and smoothed the ruffled red hair of his hooligan.
"My wife is completely devoid of vanity and the pursuit of luxury," he winked, and Defne bloomed with a pleasing smile.
"Why do we need it?" Don't sit there, don't stand there, don't you breathe over it. The house should be cozy, warm, and not luxurious," she thoughtfully scratched her eyebrow with her finger and asked in frustration: "I will never make a lady from high society, right?"
Omer laid her down on the bed in one motion and hung over her, resting on his forearms.
"Why do I need a lady from high society?" A woman should be natural, warm" he glanced at her disheveled hair, the blush on her delicate cheeks, and the pink skin of her breasts. Eyes froze on swollen red lips and lit with fire" - such woman as you...
He pressed a kiss to these lips, and again they forgot about time and space.
***
"So we agreed, the wedding on December 20th?"
Sitting at her desk, in her own office, intently studying the financial report Iz, started and looked up at Deniz with astonished eyes. The numbers she looked at and tried to keep in her head scattered like flies. Well, is it possible to appear like a devil from a snuffbox and ask such questions? Yes, even during work? Yes, and about the wedding, which has become the subject of endless debate?
Iz wanted to get married in the spring, when everything around blossoms and turns green, and Deniz insisted on the end of December and did not want to hear anything. The arguments that it was impossible to organize a decent wedding in less than a month were not taken into account.
- Well, why are you in such a hurry? - grimaced Iz.
"Are you still asking?" - He slammed the door behind him, went into the office, and stopped at her desk. "Don't you insist on the stupid rule of no sex before the wedding?"
"It's a completely logical rule," Iz again looked down at the unfortunate report and monotonously enlightened: "The groom should wait for the wedding with impatience, and not with lazy satiety."
- Allah Allah! - He was indignant. - Yes, my impatience threatens to spoil all my trousers and make me a violent madman who, even in a cream Brulee, sees a woman's breasts on a plate.
Iz left the report aside and laughed loudly.
- Nothing funny! - Deniz said, offended. "Another week of abstinence, and I will either attack you or turn into a eunuch." Since everything bursts with me down there from an overabundance of pressure.
"Don't dramatize," the girl waved him off. - You will not burst. And anyway, you're stopping me from working. If you have important business - say, if not - close the door on the other side.
Deniz pressed his hands to the countertop and leaned toward the girl. Staring angrily at her face, hissed:
- I have a very important business! I came to announce to my bride that our wedding will take place on December 20th. The date is final and not subject to appeal.
- Yes? - Iz arched an eyebrow mockingly. - Well. Congratulations. True, you have to find another bride. Well, or marrying herself," she smiled fervently. - Listen, but a cool idea! Deniz, what clothes do you dress: the bride or groom? – A dangerous glow appeared in the eyes of Tranba. She raised her hands and assured: - I am silent, silent!
- That's better! Your wit is out of place now.
"Like your conversations on abstract topics," she snapped. "Deniz, I have a lot of work." Let's talk in the evening.
"In my house," he set the condition.
In his house? Inside Iz, fear moved.
"Come on! - ironically extended an inner voice. "The worst thing that can happen is you get awesome sex." Which, by the way, you want, but you can't cope with your harmful nature and admit it! "
- Good! At your house, "she agreed. - And now, be kind, disappear. Let me finish this damn report.
Deniz returned to his room. Pausing in the middle of the study, he thought for a few minutes. And then he punched in the palm of his hand and smiled with his trademark ironic-cunning smile.
At six o'clock, they left Trаnba's office and headed for the Porsche.
"You let the driver go again?" - Asked Iz when Deniz opened her the passenger door.
"I love driving in the evening," Deniz replied, taking his seat in the driver's seat. - Well calms nerves.
"Well, are they shaky?" She asked in an innocent tone.
"As if you don't know," he pricked up and mentally added: "A vixen! ... Favorite tease! "
"A menace! thought Iz. "Beloved menace!"
Deniz's house greeted them with shining, warm, golden light windows. Looking at them, Iz exclaimed:
- Oh! What kind of illumination?
- Isn't it clear? Here they are waiting for you! Come on!
The door was opened to them by a middle-aged woman in the uniform of a housekeeper.
"Good evening, Mr. Deniz," she greeted and glanced curiously at the guest.
- Good evening, Ozge! - Tranba strictly greeted, and the woman, looking down at the floor, stretched shoulders. - Is everything ready?
- Yes, Mr. Deniz.
He helped Iz take off her coat and with his gave them to her.
- Hang in the closet, and you can be free. Then we can handle it ourselves.
"Good, Mr. Deniz."
Forgetting about the housekeeper, he led the guest inside a very modern house. She examined it with interest and secretly admitted to herself that she liked it here.
A table was laid up in the dining room, separated from the living room with a Chinese screen, painted with branches of blossoming sakura. Sparkling glasses of finest crystal and silver cutlery, porcelain plates were covered with silver caps polished to shine. The scent of fried meat was in the air. The hungry mouth of Iz immediately filled with saliva.
- Where can I wash my hands? She asked without ceremony.
"There is a toilet room to the right," Deniz pointed out.
Glancing at her back, he took off his jacket and tie. Carelessly throwing them on the sofa in the living room, he unfastened the top buttons of his shirt and rolled up his sleeves. Then he went to the kitchen. He took out wine from a wine cabinet and took out the cork with a corkscrew. Splashing ruby liquid into the glass, he inhaled the bouquet and sipped it. Nodding in satisfaction, he took the bottle and went into the dining room.
Iz came back when he poured wine into the glasses. For a moment, admiring the play of light in the depths of blood-red crystal, she shook her head and sat down at the table. Deniz followed suit. Raising his glass and waiting for her to do the same, he lightly touched his to her and said:
- For understanding and mercy.
"For patience and endurance," she retorted and brought the glass to her lips. Having taken a sip, she attacked her steak and salad.
- Almighty! But your housekeeper cooks better than a chef in a cool Parisian restaurant - enjoying the taste of juicy veal, she praised the culinary abilities of Ozge.
"So what is the problem, get married immediately, and you will eat her dishes every day," Deniz suggested.
- And get fat like a barrel.
He looked around at her thin figure, and confidently declared:
"It does not threaten you." Also, you can pleasantly burn calories. I agree to participate as much as necessary.
"What kind of person are you?" You wrap everything in your favor! - Iz was outraged.
"Well, what did you want?" I am a businessman. A good one.
- And very modest!
Not knowing to laugh or be angry, Deniz imposingly leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. Bowing his head to his shoulder, he smiled smugly and said:
- And here you are mistaken. Modesty is not for me - looking at her empty plate, he asked: - Satisfied? Maybe more wine?
"Thank you, it's enough for me," Iz answered defiantly jerking her chin.
"Then let's go," he helped her up from the table and pulled her by the hand up the stairs along the snow-white, transparent railing.
"And where are you pulling me?" - having no choice but to hurry through the steps after him, Iz curiously asked.
Deniz stopped at a frosted glass and metal door. Opening it, he led the girl into a bathroom lined with blue and silver tiles. There was a thick aroma of expensive wine in the room. Iz looked around. On the opposite wall, a white bathtub size of a small pool was on the floor. The water in it seemed suspicious to the girl. It played with bubbles and had a golden color. And red rose petals floated on the surface.
- What is it? - refusing to believe in a hunch, asked Iz.
- Champagne. French, by the way.
She looked at him with narrowed eyes.
"You have decided, if it doesn't work out the traditional way, to get me drunk in a perverse way!"
"Yeah," he admitted honestly. "Maybe then, you will become kinder and take pity on me."
She stared into his impudent, masculine eyes, and her whole decisive disposition to build of herself untouchable was crumbling like a house of cards.
- Damn! She gasped. Grasping the collar of the white shirt pulled his head to her and kissed him.
Bubbles gently tickled the skin, scent dizzied the head and sharpened feelings. The champagne in the bathtub was delightfully warm and silky. Iz relaxed, she threw her head back on Deniz's chest and sighed sweetly.
- Well, what - we get married on the twentieth? He asked lazily, stroking her hands.
She turned her head to him and asked in surprise:
- Why? I have succumbed and am not going to refuse you the sex anymore.
"Because I want to see is you next to me, eating at the same table, sleeping in the same bed, and having a baby."
- Will you give birth or me? - laughed Iz.
- Together! - Deniz promised and kissed her. Letting go of the champagne-smelling lips, he warned: "Keep in mind!" If you refuse to marry me on the twentieth, then I will put on a chastity belt. No sex before the wedding!
She laughed briskly and said:
- You persuaded me! Let's get married!
***
All days until Saturday passed in preparation for the charity evening. A team of representatives of various companies and invited artists worked harmoniously and amicably. Fikret performed her part of the work and only occasionally looked with sad eyes at Omer. He treated her coldly, but politely. And Fikret was grateful to him. Defne behaved kindly. Just as at the time of the beginning of their acquaintance. When she smiled openly at her, Fikret felt burning shame. Iplikci, not knowing what she almost did, treated her like a human being. But she knew, and could not look at herself in the mirror. It seemed to her that she saw there not her face, but a grin of a terrible monster. And she, turning away, hastily covered her face with her hands.
One evening, they sat with her grandmother by the burning fireplace and talked all night. She first told Fikret about her mother, about her illness and her great love for Halit Galo. About how she, having buried her tragically dead husband in her youth, was terrified to lose her only daughter. How crazy she was after her death. She needed to find the culprit, and she found it. A tiny, defenseless girl who was not guilty of anything.
- Forgive me, dear! She asked her granddaughter. - It's my fault. Only mine. I screwed up your whole life.
Fikret did not calm her and downplay her guilt, but she forgave. Because she was also forgiven.
She also requested to work in a boarding school for orphans as a teacher of drawing and modeling clothes. And they accepted her. On Monday, she will begin a new life next to those who will need it. Next to the children, who, like she once did not know parental love and affection.
After that night, when she almost committed a crime, and then, without closing her eyes, until the morning read her mother's diary, something broke in her. Rage and hatred for the whole world disappeared, the soul calmed down and was no longer burning with resentment. And even the big love for Omer turned into quiet sadness. She finally realized that he was not for her and would never love her. But she will love and pray for him, his children, and even for Defne. After all, it is in her that Omer's whole life and happiness.
***
In the morning, Omer and Defne were in the hall, rented for the show. There will be a dress rehearsal and final preparations. The girls were already here. Seda had brought Nisa, and Kumru and Dila - an ambulance. Dila became worse the day before, and she arrived with a dropper connected to a catheter in her arm. But she was determined to work at the same time, and when she was offered not to overwork and not participate in the show, she flatly refused.
"As you don't understand," she said, in a voice that made tears come to everyone's eyes, "I want to feel like a princess. I don't know if I will still have such a chance, and therefore I should use this to the fullest.
- You will have. I am sure, "Defne promised her and tenderly embraced her by the shoulders. And Koray, sniffing loudly and wiping his tears, hugged both of them and said that of all the models that he had seen, the best and most beautiful were these slim and lovely girls, whom he loved with all his heart and, intends to make top models of them.
Dila walked along the catwalk - a light walk from the hip, smiling a happy smile and not paying attention to the mobile stand of the dropper, which rolled next to her. And Koray clicked on the camera lens. And he scrolled another idea in his head. If it succeeds, but it turns out for sure, then he Koray Sargin and tomorrow all of Turkey will rush to send money to treat people with cancer.
After the rehearsal, the employees Passionis and Tranba, under the vigilant look of Derya, were left to finish the preparations, and the management went home.
Omer put an orange ribbon to his lapel and cursed through his teeth - the pin did not want to fasten. Defne, completing makeup at the mirror, glanced at him, smiled knowingly, and got up from the dressing table. Approaching her husband, she averted his hands and deftly buttoned the pin. She straightened the ribbon and admired the work of her own hands. Her ribbon pinned on the bodice of her long dark purple dress. Today, each guest will have to show on their clothes the same as a symbol of compassion and support for patients with leukemia.
Omer straightened a golden-red curl that had broken out of the hairstyle and said:
- Thank you, my soul.
She smiled affectionately and answered:
- It's my pleasure. Why then do you need a wife?
"And for this, too," Omer agreed with a sly grin, and, looking for a reaction, squinted at her. Defne frowned like a feline, and he laughed briskly.
- Just kidding. I need you because I cannot breathe without you.
"I guessed that," she said. "You're not yourself until you tease me."
"It's not my fault," Omer began to make excuses. "You are so beautiful when angry that I cannot resist."
"Let's go, you innocent," Defne commanded condescendingly and took her evening purse from the table. "We must not be late."
Iplikci spouses arrived among the first. Following them, the founders of the show, artists began to gather up, and the girls the last. A soft pink blush appeared on Nisa's cheeks, and her eyes shone with a lively sparkle. This circumstance pleased everyone, without exception, and inspired hope. First of all, to Dila and Kumru. Next to Nisa, they looked transparently pale and haggard but tuned for the show.
Stylists took them to prepare. Conventional models were the first to show the ensembles, and the girls were to complete the defile. Between the shows, famous singers and musical groups were going to contribute to the noble cause. Everyone considered it an honor to participate in such an important project.
Just before the start, Kerem Yilmaz appeared in the hall. He looked calmly at those present and went up to Defne. She, delighted by his arrival, introduced him to the rest. Kerem was surprised. The society people were simple in communication and friendly. No one looked down on him or smiled contemptuously. When the show began, he watched with interest and deep down understood that what these people thought was necessary and vital for thousands and thousands of seriously ill people.
But deep down, he doubted that he was the one they needed. And then three girls took to the stage. On them airy dresses and elegant shoes. Two have beautifully tied scarves on their heads, but third has short copper curls. The girls walked along the catwalk, and in the big hall, hundreds of guests froze with compassion and a keen desire to help these ethereal birds. Kerem looked in the sparkling brown eyes of the red-haired girl and realized that he had to agree.
After the show, the auction began. For impressive sums were sold - handbag trimmed with gems, design shoes by Omer Iplikci and his wife, Defne Iplikci, dress from Fikret Galo, a leather ball with autographs of the Besiktas football team, cap of a famous actor and dinner with an actress that made millions of fans crazy. The last bid was a necklace from Defne. The very thing that she drew the very first after the ring. Similar to a patterned stand-up collar and decorated with droplets of small emeralds, it made all who looked at it delightedly gasp. Women were already mentally trying it on their necks, and men were charged with excitement to compete for the amazing, filigree made jewelry.
Ahtem waited for the announcement of the last bid with bated breath. His hands were cold with excitement and felt a trembling inside. When the auctioneer raised the necklace and announced the initial price, Laura came up to him and silently stopped nearby. But her silence was more important than a thousand words. Akhtem found her hand and squeezed it in his palm.
A little at a distance, Omer intertwined the thin fingers of his wife with his long and strong one.
"Don't worry," he whispered. "You must not." Everything will be fine.
She looked at him gratefully and nodded slightly.
Bidding began briskly, and the price of a necklace grew every second. Fifty thousand dollars, eighty, one hundred, one hundred and twenty.
"Two hundred thousand," said a man calmly with a hawk profile and touched gray hair.
Defne looked at him with wide eyes, which in the next second became bigger.
- Two hundred twenty! Shouted the imposing guy with a big belly.
"He probably wants to buy the favor of his companion-actress with such a wide gesture," thought Omer.
"Two hundred and fifty," the man said quietly, but clearly stated his price.
- Two hundred eighty!
- Three hundred.
The remaining participants, not hiding their disappointment, left the bidding. The fight continued between the smug man and the other gay.
- Three hundred and twenty!
- Four hundred.
- Four hundred and fifty!
- A million.
The hall gasped. The guy pursed his lips in displeasure.
"A million once," the auctioneer cried out. - A million twice! - pausing, he hit the copper stand with a hammer. - One million third time! Sold to Mr. Sarafoglu!
- Who is it? - dumbfounded by the amount for which her work was sold, asked Omer Defne.
"The owner of the media holding is Mr. Burak Sarafoglu," he answered.
- Media holding? Asked Defne. "But still ... a million ?!"
"Your work is worth the money," Omer answered confidently and kissed her trembling fingers.
The man settled the formalities with the auctioneer and went to the Iplikci couple. Looking into Defne's excited face, he introduced himself and spoke:
"Madame Defne, I am subdued by your talent."
"Thank you," she answered.
- I have an important conversation for you. Will you be so kind as to meet me next week? - Defne looked perplexedly at Omer, and he gently squeezed her hand. This gesture did not hide from Sarafoglu. He looked at Iplikci's face and said: "Mr.Omer if you find time for this meeting, I will be glad to see you."
- Of course, Mr. Burak. Have your secretary contact the secretary of Defne on Monday and settle the issue of time and date.
"Excellent," not a single muscle flinched on the man's face, but Omer was one hundred percent sure that he was happy with the agreement. "We will do so." Goodbye, Mrs. Defne, Mr. Omer. I was glad to meet you. Have a good evening and success in your noble endeavor.
The man left, and Defne raised a dumbfounded look at Omer.
- That is not a dream?
He took her hands and smiled proudly.
- Not a dream, my love. Sapphire, not even releasing the first collection, has become famous. Do you realize how unique and talented you are?
- And loved? - holding back tears of joy, she asked.
"And loved," Omer answered gently, and, ignoring the crowd, kissed her trembling lips. - To infinity.
The organizers were the last to leave the venue. Guests have already dispersed, artists and models have left, an ambulance has taken away Kumru and Dila, and mother - Nisa. Overjoyed by the success pairs of friends and companions decided to mark the event with a late dinner in Lunch r-t. Fikret also. Defne invited her to ride in their car with Omer. She, not believing her happiness, agreed. Making jokes with each other and talking, they all went to the cars. Iplikci's Mercedes was across the street. Omer crossed the deserted road, and Defne hesitated, putting her phone in her purse. She almost reached the middle, as the dazzling headlights cut through the darkness, and the squeal of tires and the roar of the engine cut the evening silence.
It all happened in a split second. Defne stared in fear at the car rushing at her. The distraught Omer, shouting her name, rushed to her, and realized that he would not have time. Defne turned to him, and her eyes were full of disbelief and fear. And love....
- Defne !!!!
He shouted, and at that moment Fikret, run to the girl, pushed her in the back with all her might, and Defne fell into the arms of her husband.
The brakes screeched, a dull thump was heard, and Fikret's body, like a plastic doll, flew high into the air.