It started raining in the night. Its frequent drops were hitting the wooden flooring. It sounded like a drumbeat like thin sticks touching the taut skin of a drum. It was it which made Defne wake up. She carefully got out of bed and looked at Omer - did she wake him up? He was fast asleep. Lying on his stomach, he hugged the pillow with both hands. The sheet covered him to the waist, and his bare torso pressed down on the mattress. Unlike to this mind-boggling sexuality, the face seemed boyishly simple-minded and serene. Defne smiled affectionately and stepped silently out onto the terrace. The water wall began immediately behind the canopy and was as dense as milk. The air was soaked with warm and heady moisture. Defne walked to the terrace railing and, putting her hands on it, closed her eyes. She wanted to capture in her memory this rain and the melody that its drops played.
Omer came out of the bungalow. Rubbing his eyes, he yawned and went up to his wife. He hugged her, kissed her shoulder near the thin shoulder strap of her nightgown, and rested his chin on the top of her head.
- Why are you here? - asked with a voice hoarse from sleep.
- I listen to the rain. It is not the same here as in Istanbul. Heavy and smells different. Why did you wake up?
- I wanted to hug you and didn't find you - moody notes sounded in his voice. - I can't sleep without you. - Defne laughed softly. - Why do you laughing?
"Omer Iplikci, who preferred to sleep alone and tolerated the presence of others in his bed for no longer than an hour, has now changed his habits," she explained.
"He fell in love," Omer muttered sleepily. - And how do you know about my long-standing dislike of sharing a bed with someone?
- I guessed it. Back when I worked as your assistant.
"Shrewd Defne," he kissed the top of her head and turned her to the bungalow door. - Let's go to sleep. In the morning we have an excursion to a black pearl farm. You will need strength and energy.
- What about rain? Will it bother us?
- It's the tropics - Omer put his arm around her shoulders and led her into the bedroom. - In half an hour, there will be no trace of it.
In the morning, only the wet planks on the bridge and dewdrops on flower petals reminded of the rain. The sky was clear, and the sun shone with cheerful carelessness, warming the lagoon and creamy strips of sandy beaches with its rays.
For the trip, Defne dressed as comfortably as possible - blue denim shorts, white shirt, and leather moccasins on her legs. She braided her hair into a loose braid and went out onto the terrace. The table was already set for breakfast there. Omer, in khaki shorts and a white shirt with sleeves, rolled up to the elbows, sat in his seat, and was spreading transparent, golden-green jam on a bagel.
- What is it made of? - Defne asked, sitting down opposite. On a nearby empty chair, she put her backpack.
"I don't know," her husband replied. "But the taste is amazing."
He poured her tea, stirred the sugar in it, and slipped a dish of pastries closer.
- Eat, - ordered. "The boat will come for us in twenty minutes." He took a couple of small bananas in an unusual red peel from a fruit dish and put them in the backpack. "What if you want to eat," he explained.
Moved by his concern, Defne, hiding a smile, bent over a cup of tea.
The boat that arrived for them had a glass bottom. Turquoise water, white coral branches and colorful fish swimming between them shone through it. Defne was sitting at the stern, looking at the underwater world and gasping in admiration. Omer, watching her delight, smiled affectionately and condescendingly, and felt like the ruler of the world.
A pearl farm was located on a neighboring island. The lagoon near it was mapped. On the surface of the water, white balls-floats swayed in orderly rows on the waves. Long, curved bridges ran along the water to the shore. On one of them stood a middle-aged man. He had a dark, weathered face, gray hair, and keen eyes. Climbing into the boat, he greeted the guests and introduced himself as the owner of the farm, Monsieur Jean.
The boat sailed to the buoys. It turned out that they were attached to а ship ropes, which ropes overgrown with seaweed hung in the water. They had black oyster shells attached to them. The man talked about how pearls are grown and Defne listened to him with her mouth open. A small grain of sand that has turned into a beautiful pearl - isn't it a miracle? And doesn't it happen among people? An ordinary, nothing inconspicuous girl, whom life brought into the house of a magnificent man, under the influence of his love, turned from Cinderella into a Princess. The most real magic and miracle. Defne looked up and met Omer's gaze. He looked at her with tenderness and adoration ... Yes, it was magic and a miracle!
The man pulled several bunches of shells into the boat and let Defne choose one for herself as a gift. She looked closely and pointed to the darkest. For some reason, it was it who attracted her gaze. Monsieur Jean took a pocketknife from a purse at his waist and deftly opened the shell. Its walls were even, smooth, black, and shimmered with a pearlescent sheen. A bump was visible near the oyster itself. The man opened it with the tip of the knife and Defne gasped. There it lay. The most beautiful, most perfect black pearl.
- Madam, bravo! - exclaimed Monsieur Jean. - You are a very lucky woman. This pearl is flawless. It will become an amazing decoration for you and will protect your family from troubles and misfortunes.
Defne took it in her hand. It was smooth and warm. Its brilliance reminded the girl of the radiant light of Omer's eyes at the moment when he looks at her and they flash with undisguised desire.
She already knew what she would do with the pearl. The picture appeared in a flash before the inner eye and stuck in the brain. Yes! She would do it.
- Monsieur, madam, do you like oysters? The man asked.
Defne looked at the lump of dark slime in the shell and shook her head. Omer smiled and replied:
- Very!
"I have lemon with me." He took a yellow fruit out of his purse and, cutting it in half, squeezed the juice into the shell. He handed it to Omer with the words: - Celebrate your wife's luck.
He took it and, closing his eyes with pleasure, drank the contents. Defne winced. When Monsieur Jean turned away, she bent down to her husband's ear and quietly asked in Turkish:
- You won't vomit? It looks disgusting.
"But the taste is divine," Omer answered in the same way, leaning to her ear. "Also, oysters are considered an aphrodisiac that increases masculine strength," he looked into her eye, and then at her lips.
Defne blushed and muttered to herself:
- You might think - you need it ... but your masculine strength will be enough for ten.
Omer threw back his head and laughed merrily. And then, looking into her eye, he purred in a velvet voice:
- Oh yeah! Enough. Just let us get to the bungalow...
Defne's cheeks turned crimson. She glanced sideways at the boatman and Monsieur Jean, but they were busy talking and did not pay any attention to the couple in love. Bringing her lips to Omer's ear, she whispered:
- Don't turn your nose up too much. I also have a couple of thoughts on this matter.
Omer stared at her with an incredulous look in which fire flared up with every second.
- Defne, you...
- I, - she smiled a seductively cocky smile.
- Let us sail to the hotel!
- Eh, no! She waved her index finger in front of his nose. - I want to see the pearl shop and talk to Monsieur Jean about the contract for the delivery of black pearls to Sapphire. I already have tons of jewelry ideas.
"Cruel," Omer muttered and sighed in disappointment.
In the pearl store, apart from individual pearls, products were also sold. Their diversity dazzled the eyes. But Defne lacked something in them. Too simple. She felt that she could create jewelry much better. After all, this pearl is special and should live in special jewelry. The owner of the farm brought her a box for her pearl and a certificate for it. Defne knew - it was needed to take it out of Polynesia without hindrance.
"Mister Jean, can we talk about a serious topic," she said to the man.
He answered in the affirmative, and when he heard the proposal, beamed. His small farm could not compete with the big giants and it was almost impossible to break into the big pearl market. Therefore, it existed only at the expense of tourists. And here is a supply contract and the possibility of long-term cooperation. Yes, this is great luck! Oh, it's not for nothing that this beautiful girl with fiery hair got a perfect pearl. It's a sign! Good sign.
To celebrate, Monsieur Jean invited the guests to dine with him on the picturesque veranda of his house. The Iplikci agreed. Defne gladly, Omer - gritting his teeth. He was now worried about another kind of hunger. Defne lit a fire in him with her own words. Thoughts got out of control and the imagination drew pictures, from which the heart was pounding madly and it became cramped in his swimming trunks. If not for the loose shirt outside, he would be disgraced now.
And Defne, as if nothing had happened, chattered with Monsieur Jean and there was not even a shadow of impatience on her sweet face. Thinking how he would take revenge, Omer generously poured lemon juice on fresh oysters and sent them into his mouth. Defne also ventured to try a variety of oysters - tridacna clams baked in coconut milk. The dish was really tasty. But Defne's attention was more drawn to the large plate of sliced fruit. She pulled from it piece by piece. Ripe mangoes melted with sweet juice in your mouth, golden pineapples seduced with a sunny aroma, a thin peel burst on orange slices and it seemed to Defne that she had never eaten anything tastier. Omer watched the expression of pleasure on her face and inside everything melted with desire.
After lunch, Monsieur Jean led the guests to the boat. Gallantly kissing Defne's hand, he demanded a promise from her that this meeting would not be the last in their life. She promised, laughing. Shaking hands with Omer, he winked and wished him luck.
"Take care of your golden pearl, Monsieur Omer," he whispered in his ear. - It is unique and many men will want to take her away from you.
"The arms are short," Omer muttered, and the man laughed out loud.
Monsieur Jean himself pushed the boat away from the shore and stood until it became a small point in the distance. The wrinkled face beamed with a smile. Today is his lucky day. This sunny girl and his black pearls will conquer the world. He felt it.
The boat moored to the lower deck near the bungalow and Omer helped his wife out of it. Without releasing her hand, he pulled her into the bedroom, but Defne resisted:
- I'm sticky like candy in the sun. I want to shower.
"I have a better idea," he purred in her ear. - Let's take a bathtub.
Defne's breath caught in her throat and she just nodded her head in agreement.
Omer turned on the water into the bathtub and, without bothering with buttons, simply pulled his shirt over his head and threw it into the corner. His skin was glistening with sweat. Defne, as if enchanted, approached him and with her fingers traced a path from the collarbone to the dark brown nipple. The chest muscles tightened and became even more prominent.
"How strong you are," Defne whispered.
"And you ... brave?" - Omer lifted her face by the chin and looked into the misty eyes.
She was scared. The former shy Defne wanted to hide her eyes and come up with an excuse to run away. But the new, daring and free, took power over her and dictated her will. Without taking her eyes off his gaze blazing with dark fire, she ran her finger along his flat stomach and unbuttoned his shorts. She groped for the zip and pulled it down.
Then she took a step back and pulled the elastic from her hair. Shaking them, she let them fall freely on her shoulders and unbuttoned her shirt. Omer, without stopping, watched her movements. Their slowness was maddening. He wanted every cell of her perfect body. To touch, taste. Take her and love her until he stops breathing. On the bed.
He turned off the tap above the bathtub. Defne raised an eyebrow inquiringly.
"After," he explained, and in the blink of an eye, he removed her clothes. Pulling off his own, pushed her back under the shower, and opened the water. - It's faster this way.
They washed each other with quick, feverish movements and kissed. Omer crushed her lips with his own, bit them, and persistently made his way between them with his tongue. Defne was in no way inferior to his passion. Her palms wandered over his body. They touched the tense muscles shaking under her hands and Omer, gritting his teeth, threw back his head and growled with pleasure.
- Darling, stop! - He held her hand and exhaled: - I want on the bed. Long...
He turned off the shower and took out a towel. Removing drops of water, he ran a white cloth over her body. She took it and did the same. And then she looked into his eyes. Allowing. Promising. To hurry. Omer grabbed her under the knees and carried her into the bedroom.
***
In the snow-covered Alps, in a luxurious chalet built of glass and wood, a happy newlywed couple was sitting near a burning fireplace and drinking mulled wine. The cozy, tastefully furnished room smelled of cinnamon, wine, and oranges. The light was turned off and the room was lit only by the flames dancing merrily on the wood and the multi-colored lights of garlands, which were generously entangled on the fir tree standing in the corner. Outside the window was white snow and the frosty evening air was blue and crystal-clear. The ski tracks were empty. Luring guests, restaurants, and nightclubs invitingly lit their lights. The entire ski resort sparkled with Christmas illumination and reminded vacationers that there was a holiday on the street and you could afford to sit back and enjoy life.
- Warmed up? Deniz asked his wife and touched the tip of her nose. Warm. His heart was relieved. Taking a sip of mulled wine from his cup, he grumbled: - And why was it in such a frost to climb the highest route? Until we went down and the bones were frozen.
"But what adrenaline," Iz answered cheerfully. - We did not leave the chalet for almost a week. I wanted fresh air and speed.
- I almost turned gray from your speed. Not to go skiing on gentle slopes like all normal women, she climbed the most difficult track. And she dragged me along.
- But it was cool? She threw her head back and winked at her husband.
"Cool," he agreed. - By the way, about a week locked up. This is a blatant lie! Forgot how we went to the nightclub?
- Where did you almost crush the nose of the Greek millionaire? She asked mockingly. - Will you forget this!
- Why did he look at you like that? Deniz said angrily.
- He has eyes, so he looked.
- Let him look at his feet, and not at my wife!
She laughed and shook her head.
- I never thought you were so jealous.
"Me too," he admitted. - For the first time, I felt this.
- Have you ever been jealous before? - Iz was surprised. - After all, you had so many women!
- No, - recalling the details of the past relationship Deniz thoughtfully rubbed his chin. - When one of my ex-women began to flirt with others, I just sighed with relief. Less hassle.
- But the poor Greek was almost beaten for looking at me with interest.
Deniz looked into her eye. Taking the cup of mulled wine from her hands, he set it aside and, knocking his wife over onto a soft blanket of white sheepskin, covered her with himself.
"He was looking at you," he declared without a shadow of a smile and kissed her imperiously on the lips. - And you are mine!
She smiled seductively and boldly. Looking invitingly into his eye, she ran her hands under his sweater and ran her nails along his back. The male gaze lit up with a predatory fire. Oh yeah! She loved her Deniz like that - demanding and insatiable. From one glance of which the blood boiled and not a single coherent thought remained in her head.
"I'm yours," she whispered, and threw back her head, exposing her neck to hot lips.
***
The last day of the outgoing year has come.
In Istanbul, Laura made her famous cake and roasted lamb. Ahtem set up a Christmas tree in the living room. They talked merrily and enjoyed the warmth radiated from their eyes and voices. Loneliness no longer stood behind shoulders and did not breathe cold. A holiday has come into their lives.
"Thank you for this year," Laura said, looking at the fir tree shining with colorful lights and leaned against Ahtem's chest. He put his arms around her shoulders and promised:
- The next one will be even better.
They also decorated a Christmas tree in the Topal house. Esra hung glass balls and tinsel on green branches. Serdar with Iso in his arms circled nearby and made fun of his sister. The kid pulled his hands to the shiny toys and gurgled merrily. In the kitchen, Nihan and grandmother Turkan baked cake, cookies, and baklava.
- It was a good year, wasn't it Aunt Turkan? - Through the open door, looking at her husband and son, said Nihan.
She smiled a wide smile and replied:
- The next one will be even better.
On the same street, in a small house, a young woman was cleaning. She was at home alone. Her parents took her son home for the holidays, and her husband, as usual, was hanging out somewhere. Looking calmly in front of her, the woman was rubbing the old mirror, vacuuming the shabby carpet, and putting things in the closet. She remembered that today would be a holiday, but she knew that it was not for her. Her life is patience. So it was in early childhood and it will always be so. And those few weeks when she flew and was happy - it's a miracle. A gift from the Almighty. She will never forget them. Will never forget him...
Thoughts like a joyless carousel spun in her head, and her hands automatically performed familiar actions. The woman took a stack of her husband's T-shirts from the shelf of the closet and a sheet of paper fell to the floor. Wondering what it might be, she picked it up and opened it. The eyes darkened. The document said in black and white about the dissolution of the marriage between Cevdet and Aysegul Palala. And the date is August 25, 2016. A wave of anger rose from within and flooded her chest. She wanted to scream and destroy everything around her, but instead, she sat down on a chair and placed the document in front of her. So Cevdet, who returned home, found her. Seeing the divorce certificate, he grinned wryly and asked:
- Rummaging through my things?
She glared at him and, holding back a tremor in her voice, said:
- What for? Explain why? Why did you hide that you filed a divorce with me, and came back claiming that you are still my husband?
- Hush! He shouted at her. - Look how brave you become. I am leaving Turkey. Every penny counts. I needed to sleep over somewhere. And here - free housing and food. Like a resort. True, - he gave her a dismissive glance, - I didn't want to sleep with you. And you are such a fool that you didn't even notice it.
Aysegul got to her feet and spat out in his face:
- Bastard! I because of you...
She darted from her seat, grabbed her coat from the rack, and threw it over her shoulders. Without buttoning up and not looking back at the dumbfounded Cevdet, she jumped out into the street and ran by the chipped asphalt to the house at the end of the street. She stopped at the door and with all her might banged her fists against it. It opened instantly. Aysegul looked into the beloved eyes and drowned in them. For several minutes they, seeing and hearing nothing around, looked at each other. Iso was the first to wake up. He stretched out his arms and Aysegul fell into his hug.
Later the two of them decorated the tree and prepared a festive dinner. They exchanged happy looks and smiles. Lips met in timid kisses. Aysegul opened her heart to the holiday. She was no longer afraid. No family, no gossip, no Cevdet. Looking at the twinkling lights of the garlands, she said:
- What a wonderful year. The best in my life...
Iso gently hugged her by the shoulders and promised:
- The next one will be even better.
It was snowing in the Alps. Quiet and large. White flakes circled in a leisurely dance and covered everything around with a thick, fluffy layer. In the chalet like in a fairytale house, near a panoramic window, a girl in a long, red, evening dress stood and looked at the snow-capped mountains. Behind her, the waiters were setting the table. Tall glasses and polished silver were reflected in the window. Champagne was chilled in an ice bucket. The festive dishes prepared by the best chef in the area smelled subtly. Their aroma was set off by the pungent smell of pine needles. Everything was ... perfect. Just the way she always dreamed. But this luxury was not the reason that now filled her heart with joy. It trembled at the thought that now He will enter this room - the best man in the world. Her husband. And immediately everything around will sparkle with life and shine with new colors.
"Madam," one of the waiters said to her. She turned to him and looked questioningly. - We're done. If you need anything, call the reception.
"Okay," she smiled tightly. - You can go.
The guys left. Iz turned back to the window. The door creaked, and she heard leisurely, confident footsteps behind her. The windowpane reflected the silhouette of a man in a jet-black tuxedo and white shirt. He walked over to her and stood beside.
"The year is coming to an end," Iz said quietly.
- Yes, - Deniz answered with unusual thoughtfulness.
"It was а wonderful year," she smiled at his reflection and saw a return smile.
Deniz put his palms on his bare shoulders and confidently said:
- The next one will be even better.
In one of the neat houses of the medieval Swiss town of Gruyeres, two families - Karakaya and Berensel - gathered at a festive table. At first, the guests were a little embarrassed, but Sinan's parents turned out to be as cute and funny as himself. The father cheerfully teased his wife and son, and they did not remain in debt. Seda and Nisa easily fit into this company and the laughter in the festively decorated room did not subside for a minute. Mrs. Maryem watched her daughters and future son-in-law with a kind smile. Back in Istanbul, when Seda told about Sinan's family, she was afraid that his parents would be unhappy with their daughter-in-law from an ordinary family. But the opposite happened. They fell in love with her daughter at first sight and instantly found a common language with her. Nisa was just happy. For her sister. For herself. For the fact that the disease has receded and she can live a full life. That she celebrates the holiday in such a beautiful city and Sinan's parents are such kind people. What gifts are waiting for her under a decorated with gold and red Christmas tree? And simply because living is such happiness!
- What a great year! She exclaimed laughing.
Sinan and Seda exchanged loving glances and he said with a beaming smile:
- The next one will be even better.
Such words were heard in another house.
Mrs. Mirai, along with Mert and the girls, they were preparing to celebrate the New Year in a new apartment. They rented it after the very first salary that their mother received in Sapphire. It was in a nice area and was large, bright, and cozy. The way they always dreamed. As Omer promised, their family began a new, worthy life.
Papa Kartal said the same words to his precious Kumru. Today, for the first time since the bone marrow transplant operation, he was admitted to his daughter's ward. He brought with him a fir branch decorated with tinsel, a bag full of food and gifts for the birds Kumru and Dila: comfortable ballet flats from Omer and Sinan, golden pendants in the shape of angels from Defne, Ahtem, and Laura, beautiful dresses from Iz and Deniz Tranba. And from himself - thin gold bracelets. The links in them were made in the form of an inverted eight - the sign of infinity. So that their life was the same endless.
In a village for orphans, in her modest apartment, an old woman was sitting next to an open chest with silk dresses and woolen blouses. She went through things, breathed in their smell, and recalled her life. Husband, daughter ... granddaughter. Tears rolled from her eyes, but she did not notice them. There was a knock on the door. She slowly got to her feet and went to open it. On the threshold stood the blue-eyed Banu, her best student. She looked with her huge eyes and smiled timidly.
"Honey," the old woman said softly to her, "come into the room. Why aren't you at the party?
"The dress they gave me is too big for me and the girls laugh at me," she answered sadly as she walked deeper into the apartment. - Yes, and I do not want to go there. I'd better draw, - the girl handed her a sheet of paper and smiled, a timid, but warm and sincere smile. - Madam, today is New Year and I made you a gift. This is just a drawing, but I drew it for you.
The woman took the sheet and looked at it. Her hands trembled. The drawing was childishly kind and naive. Very good. It featured a gray cat with slanted intelligent eyes. At the bottom, there was a signature: "Gri".
"You talked about it," the girl explained. - You had such sad eyes. It seemed to me that you miss it very much and I drew it for you ... grandma.
Banu's eyes widened in fear, and she covered her mouth with her hand. The woman put the drawing on the table and held out her hands to her. The girl rushed to her and hugged her tightly. The old woman stroked her hair in silence and felt the soul thaw from the touch of children's hands.
"Sweetheart," she pulled away and led the girl by the hand to the chest. - Now we will select the most beautiful dress for you, and you will go to the party.
The blue eyes lit up with joy. She tenderly touched the turquoise silk with her thin fingers and asked:
- Can this dress?
"You can," the woman replied. - It will fit you and fit your beautiful eyes ... granddaughter.
Life, after so many years of hopelessness, has made sense.
***
And only Iplikci did not have a Christmas tree or glass balls with tinsel. There was no snow or cold either. There was a beautiful sunset. Clouds covering the top of the mountain. Humid, flower-scented air and warm, crystal-clear lagoon water.
Omer emerged to the surface and shook his head like a boy, shaking the water from his hair. Flashing in a smile with dazzling white teeth on his tanned face, and called Defne:
- Come to me.
She only in bikini stood on the top step of the stairs descending into the water and smiled at him with a wide, perky smile. Omer admired her. The painful thinness that she had after the hospital disappeared. Appetizing roundness appeared in the right places, the skin acquired an even, golden tan. Defne looked healthy and full of strength. Very beautiful and very desired. She was not shy, did not wrap herself in a pareo, but let him look at herself frankly and hotly.
"Come to me," he repeated, and she stepped boldly into his arms. Omer caught her and raised her high above his head. Defne put her hands on his shoulders and threw back her head, laughing. He echoed her with a hoarse laugh. Loosening his grip, he let her slide along his body and closed his arms around the fragile figure again. - Gotcha! I won't let you go.
"I don't want you to let me go." I'm in the best place in the world right now.
- Do you say? He raised an eyebrow.
"I say," she arched hers. - I would spend my whole life in your hands.
- I can arrange it, - the embrace became so close that Defne's body welded to his. "I'll hold you like this, and I won't let anyone come between us."
- Do you promise? - Throwing back her head, she looked into his beloved, laughing eyes.
"I swear," Omer said. - Whatever happens in our life, whatever storms come, we will hold on to each other.
- My wonderful Omer.
He ran a finger over her eyebrows, touched the wet arrows of her eyelashes, her small nose, and her mouth swollen from kisses.
- My beautiful Defne.
The lips joined in a kiss and there was no force in the world that could tear them apart. His palms stroked her body under the water, playfully made their way under the bikini, easily teased, and then squeezed imperiously, without words saying - you are mine. And Defne gave herself to them, obeyed, answering in the same silent way - I am yours. Until the end of life, until the last minute and sigh. Only yours!
Later they basked in the large bathtub, washed the salt from their bodies and hair, kissed, and made love. Long and unhurried. Each movement was slow, languid, seductive. Every kiss was crazy. Each look promised eternal love and tenderness. The pleasure was sweet like honey. It covered with waves, and each new one was higher until it turned into a tsunami, sweeping away everything superfluous on its way. Leaving only happiness to feel and love each other.
Then they dried each other with fluffy towels, blow-dried their hair, and chose clothes. Defne wore a white, light dress, Omer - a loose, blue shirt and beige shorts. Without putting on shoes, they went barefoot onto the terrace. There the table had already been laid, candles were burning and the tiny lights of the garlands wrapped around the railing of the bridges shone brightly. Fireworks rockets soared into the sky from the shore and scattered in the inky darkness in a scattering of multi-colored lights. Somewhere in the distance, cheerful music and laughter sounded. The island saw off the old year and waited for the new one. Defne walked to the edge of the terrace and looked around. Her eyes were shining.
"It is leaving," she said with a sad smile.
- Who? Omer asked hoarsely.
- The old year. It brought me so much happiness.
- And grief.
"Forget it," Defne pressed her hand to his lips. - This year was the best in my life.
Omer kissed the warm palm and pressed it to his chest. Defne felt his heart beating fast. He looked seriously into her eye and promised:
- The next one will be even better.
"Kiss me," Defne asked, and he softly covered her lips with his. On the shore, the music fell silent and an invisible clock began counting the last seconds of the outgoing year with the chimes. At the final blow, Omer released his wife's lips and said:
- Happy New Year.
- Happiness to you, - Defne echoed.
He hugged her and whispered in her ear:
- It's in my hands.