FRIA
I woke up early this morning to the soft sound of birds chirping outside. Alara was still sleeping peacefully beside me, her chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm.
For the past three days, she's been staying with me, offering the kind of comfort only a sisterly bond can provide. She's even been skipping her college classes, worried about how I've been holding up.
I'm grateful for her. Her presence has been grounding, even as I try to shift my focus away from Evren and toward things that actually make me happy.
Mornings feel lighter now, like a fresh start.
I stretched lazily in bed, letting my muscles wake up with me, before sliding out from under the covers. As the cool tiles met my feet, I made my way to the washroom. After brushing my teeth, I splashed some cold water on my face, wincing at the reflection in the mirror. My morning face—puffy and tired—wasn't exactly my favorite look.
Today felt like a lemon iced tea kind of morning. I slipped on a bra, threw on a comfortable top, and headed downstairs toward the kitchen. But as I neared, loud, frustrated cursing broke the peaceful silence.
"Where the fuck is that?"
"I'll fucking burn this all!"
I quickened my steps and stepped into the kitchen to find Derin pacing back and forth, his face a storm of anger and frustration. Pots and utensils were scattered across the counter, as though he'd been searching for something in a frenzy. His hands were clenched into fists, and his brows furrowed so deeply they looked like they might stay that way forever.
"Derin," I called out cautiously, crossing my arms as I leaned against the doorway. "What's going on here?"
He froze mid-step, his glare softening slightly when he realized I was standing there. "I can't find the damn coffee filter," he muttered, gesturing to the chaotic mess. "And if I don't get caffeine soon, I might actually lose my mind."
I bit back a laugh, shaking my head. "Alright, angry man. Step aside. Let me help before you actually burn the kitchen."
"It's so early, even Seyran isn't here yet," Derin grumbled, running a hand through his messy hair.
I leaned against the counter, smirking. "Actually, I don't even know where things are either, but I can try—calmly," I said, putting deliberate weight on the word calm.
He shot me a look, one eyebrow raised, but didn't argue. I started searching the cabinets and drawers, taking my time to sort through Seyran's borderline chaotic organization. After a few minutes, I found the coffee filter tucked away under the countertop. Pulling it out, I placed it on the counter with a triumphant smile. "I have no idea why Seyran loves to hide things in the most random spots."
Derin sighed in relief, but his frustration wasn't entirely gone. "You know what? I'll just call her. She's going to kill me for this mess anyway, and besides, I don't even know how to turn this thing on." He pulled his phone out of his sweatpants, ready to dial.
Before he could, I reached out and gently held his forearm, stopping him. His eyes flicked to mine, momentarily startled. "It's okay," I said softly. "I know how this thing works, and it's too early. Let her sleep, alright?"
He studied me for a second before nodding, slipping his phone back into his pocket. I withdrew my hand and turned to the machine, setting it up with practiced ease.
"Just plain black coffee. No sugar," he said, his tone finally less tense.
I nodded and got to work, the smell of coffee quickly filling the air. As I waited for it to brew, I glanced over my shoulder. "You're such a caffeine addict," I teased lightly. He chuckled at my words.
I passed him the glass and he took a sip of his coffee, leaning back against the counter as he studied me. "So, why are you up so early?" he asked, his voice calmer now but laced with curiosity.
I shrugged, opening the fridge to grab a lemon. "I don't know... I guess these days waking up early makes me feel less tense," I admitted, placing the lemon on the counter. "It's like the world is still quiet, and I can actually think straight. Lately, I've even started meditating—it helps."
He raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "Meditation?"
I smiled faintly as I searched for some tea bags. "It's new. Helps keep my mind off things." I hesitated before adding, "Besides, I was craving lemon iced tea this morning. Something refreshing to start the day."
"Ah, a tea person," he teased lightly, his lips quirking into a small smile.
"Don't judge, you caffeine addict," I shot back playfully as I gathered the rest of the ingredients. The kettle started to hum as I boiled some water, and I busied myself slicing the lemon.
As I worked, I glanced over at him, the sound of my stirring slowing. "By the way, what was with all the anger yesterday?" I asked casually, though my curiosity was genuine. "You hurt yourself, didn't you? Is this... like, a regular thing for you?"
His smile faded, and he set his mug down with a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. "I don't know," he admitted after a pause. "I've always had a short fuse, I guess. Yesterday just... went too far."
"Clearly," I said, my eyes flicking to his bandaged hand. "What happened?"
He hesitated, his jaw tightening as he looked away. "I had a fight with a client," he said finally, his tone sharp. "He said something... below the belt. So, yeah, I beat the shit out of him."
I paused, my hands still as I processed his words. "Wait... you hit a client?"
Derin shrugged, his expression clouding over. "Yeah. I lost it. The guy was being a complete asshole, saying things he had no business saying."
I raised an eyebrow, leaning against the counter. "What did he say to set you off like that?"
For a moment, he didn't answer, his jaw tightening as he stared into his coffee. Finally, he muttered, "He made a disrespectful comment about Alara."
My grip on the countertop tightened as his words sank in. "He what?" I asked, my voice sharp.
Derin's eyes flicked to mine, anger simmering just beneath the surface. "You heard me. He made disrespectful comment about Alara. I couldn't just let it slide."
I took a deep breath, forcing myself to stay calm. "I get it, Derin. I do. But beating someone up doesn't solve anything. It just makes things worse for you."
He scoffed, crossing his arms. "So what, I was just supposed to let him run his mouth?"
"Yes," I said firmly. "Or better yet, channel that anger into something constructive. Ever thought about trying yoga?"
Derin blinked at me, his expression a mix of disbelief and amusement. "Yoga?" he repeated, as if the word itself was foreign.
"Yes, yoga," I said, crossing my arms. "It helps with stress, teaches you how to breathe through your anger."
He let out a dry laugh, shaking his head. "Yeah, no. That's not my cup of tea. Sitting on a mat, stretching, and humming? I'd lose my mind."
"It's totally your choice, but you should try it," I said, my tone soft but persistent.
Derin laughed, a low, dismissive sound. "You're really not giving up on this yoga thing, huh?"
I smirked, leaning over the countertop, resting my chin in my hand. "Not giving up on you, actually."
That seemed to catch him off guard. His laughter faded, and he glanced at me, his expression softening. "You've got a lot of faith in me for someone who just saw me lose it over a coffee filter."
We both stood there for a moment, the lightness of our earlier conversation hanging between us, but then Derin broke the silence, his tone suddenly more curious. "So, I heard you play the piano, too? How long have you been at it?"
I smiled softly, a little surprised by the question. "Yeah, I play. My mom was a pianist, actually. She's the one who taught me."
Derin's eyes softened, and he leaned in slightly. "I didn't know that. I didn't realize you had a musical side."
I took a deep breath, the memory of my mom flooding my mind. "Yeah, it's kind of a special thing for me. I was five when I first started. I still remember it so clearly—it was just before her birthday. I wanted to surprise her with something. I learned my first tune, this little melody, and I was so excited to play it for her, to give her a gift. But... a week before her birthday, she died."
Derin went quiet, the weight of my words hanging in the air. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice soft, though I could tell it made him uncomfortable.
I shrugged, keeping my voice steady. "It's okay. It's just one of those things that stays with you, you know? Music's always been my way of connecting with her, even though she's gone."
The silence hung in the air for a moment, but then Derin broke it with a grin. "But I think you should change that piano instructor of yours. She's seriously scary. I saw her once—she was all about the lecturing."
I couldn't help but laugh at his observation. "Yeah, she can be a little intense. Well, maybe not a little... more like a lot," I admitted, shaking my head. "But, you know, she's actually really good at what she does. She pushes me, even if it feels like I'm about to crack under the pressure sometimes."
"Yeah, I get it," he said with a smile, his expression warm and relaxed. And suddenly, my stomach did this weird flip.
What the hell? Did I just get butterflies? When he smiled at me?
I quickly coughed, trying to shake off the sudden, unexpected feeling. I choked a little, trying to play it off, but Derin noticed. He immediately stepped closer, gently patting my back.
"You okay?" he asked, his voice a little concerned but still casual, as if nothing had happened. I placed my cup near the sink and added, "I'll talk to you later. Bye."
I didn't even look back, my heart racing for reasons I didn't fully understand. I hurried to my bathroom, locking the door behind me. I knew my cheeks had to be flushed—could feel the heat creeping up my neck and face. What was happening?
I stared at my reflection, eyes wide in disbelief. Butterflies? Really?
I stepped outside to find Alara already awake, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.
"Good morning," she greeted, her voice still tinged with sleep.
"Morning," I replied with a small smile.
"Heading out for meditation?" she asked, noticing my attire.
I nodded. "Yeah. And you, make sure you go to college today. You must be falling behind."
Alara rolled her eyes dramatically, throwing her hands up. "Falling behind? Please! I've already studied everything they're teaching right now. But fine, since you're so insistent and because I miss my girl gang, I'll go."
She stretched, her confidence shining through. "Just you wait, in a few years, I'll be the best clinical psychologist around."
I chuckled, meeting her determined gaze. "I don't doubt it for a second. I'd bet on it."
I went inside the closet, slipped into yoga-appropriate clothes, grabbed my mat, and made my way to the terrace.
The cool air brushed against my skin, instantly refreshing me. I unrolled my mat and laid it on the floor, taking a deep breath to center myself.
Sitting cross-legged, I began my meditation, focusing on my breathing. Inhale, exhale, repeat. But almost immediately, my mind betrayed me, drifting back to him. Derin.
I mean, how could I not? Butterflies swirled in my stomach when he smiled at me today. That smile—it wasn't just charming, it was disarming. And yes, I know he's hot. But today, in that black, tight-fitting T-shirt that clung to his body like a second skin? He looked beyond hot.
I shook my head, scolding myself silently. Focus, Fria. Breathe.
I inhaled deeply, exhaled slowly, but then my traitorous thoughts slipped back to him again. How had I not noticed before how gorgeous he really is? And those tattoos...
"Ugh, shut up, Fria. Focus," I muttered under my breath, squeezing my eyes shut tighter.
Zehra's words from the other day echoed in my mind. 'Derin is hotter than Evren,' she had said with absolute certainty. Back then, I didn't focused. But now? Now I wasn't so sure she was wrong.
I mean, the way he talks to me with so much patience, it's so unlike his usual demeanor. He's not the guy you'd expect to be calm or soft-spoken, yet he brought food for me that day, sat with me, and even calmed me down during my panic attack.
Fria, stop. Focus! I squeezed my fists on my thighs, trying to redirect my thoughts to my breathing.
But I couldn't. No matter how much I tried, my mind kept looping back to him. Why did I have to go to the kitchen today? If I hadn't, none of this would have crossed my mind.
I could have just stayed in my room, oblivious and unaffected, but no, I went there and saw him standing there, looking ridiculously good, his dark hair slightly messy, that stupidly tight shirt, and the way his tattoos flexed when he moved.
Ugh, Fria, stop obsessing! I groaned internally, sitting back on my heels. Meditation was a lost cause at this point. How could I focus on inner peace when my thoughts were utterly consumed by him?
I sighed, running my hands through my hair in frustration. My chest felt tight—not from anxiety, but from this restless, buzzing energy I couldn't shake.
Why was he suddenly occupying so much space in my head? It wasn't like this before. Sure, I'd noticed him, anyone with eyes would. But now? It felt different—more personal, more... intense.
I hugged my knees, staring out at the sky as the morning sun painted the sky in soft pinks and oranges. Maybe it was the way he'd looked at me in the kitchen today. Not just looked, but really seen me.
I shook my head. Stop romanticizing, Fria. He probably looks at everyone like that.
But deep down, I knew that wasn't true. The patience in his voice, the way he stayed during my panic attack when he could've easily walked away—those weren't things he did for everyone. They felt intentional, like he cared.
"Why did I even let myself think this way?" I muttered under my breath.
Taking a deep breath and closing my eyes. But even then, his face—his smile—flashed behind my eyelids.
What was I supposed to do with all this? These feelings were new, overwhelming, and completely uninvited.
Maybe I just needed to avoid him for a while. That sounded like a plan.
Except... did I really want that?
I rolled up my mat in frustration, deciding that meditation was a lost cause. Picking it up, I made my way back to my room, only to find it empty, Alara wasn't there.
Perfect. I needed some time alone to sort out my thoughts.
I grabbed my towel and headed for the shower. The cool water felt refreshing, washing away some of the restless energy clinging to me. By the time I stepped out, dried off, and threw on a simple outfit, I felt a bit more grounded. My hair still slightly damp, I ran my fingers through it absently, trying to keep myself distracted.
After a while, I headed downstairs for breakfast, hoping a good meal might bring some normalcy to my morning. But of course, as luck would have it, there he was—Derin.
He was sitting at the table, casually leaning back in his chair, looking as effortlessly good as always. And just as I was about to sit down and ignore him, he said something.
I didn't even register what it was, to be honest. It didn't matter. The sound of his voice alone made my stomach flip, and I couldn't let that happen. Not today.
So, without thinking, I replied curtly, keeping my tone as indifferent as possible.
I needed a distraction, and the perfect idea struck me: call Zehra. Of course, she'd probably be furious that I hadn't reached out in days, but honestly, I didn't care. I was going to call her.
Determined, I quickly finished my breakfast and headed to my room, already planning how to smooth things over. As I picked up my phone, I glanced at the time—9:30 a.m. She was probably still asleep or just waking up. If I called her now, she'd be even more annoyed, maybe even yell at me. No, better to wait.
I decided to kill some time instead. A movie would do the trick. Two hours would fly by, no problem. I turned on the television and started scrolling through the options: romance? Too cliché. Horror? Absolutely not. Finally, I settled on a thriller. Perfect.
The movie started with a quiet, suspenseful scene, the kind that grips you right away. For the first fifteen minutes, I was completely immersed, forgetting everything else.
But as the plot thickened, my mind began to wander. I started imagining how Zehra's voice would sound when she picked up—half-asleep, annoyed, or both. I could almost hear her sarcastic remarks in my head.
The thought made me smirk, but then guilt crept in. She had every reason to be upset. I'd been distant lately, too caught up in my own mess to check in.
I shook the thought off and tried to refocus on the movie. The protagonist was now chasing a lead, running through dark, winding streets, but I wasn't feeling it anymore. With a sigh, I grabbed my phone.
It was 11:15. Good enough. She'd definitely be awake by now, and I couldn't put this off any longer. Taking a deep breath, I dialed her number.
The phone rang. Once. Twice. A third time. For a moment, I thought she wouldn't pick up, but then her voice came through, crisp and sharp.
"So, you finally remembered I exist?"
I winced, but there was a smile in her tone that made me relax. "Hey, Zehra. Yeah... about that."
"Save it," she cut me off. "You're buying me coffee to make up for it. And don't you dare say no."
"Actually," I began, hesitating for a moment, "how about you come over to my place instead? We can catch up properly. I'll make coffee—your favorite."
There was a pause on the other end, just long enough to make me wonder if she was about to refuse.
"You? Make coffee? That's rich," she teased. "What happened to the 'I only know how to boil water' phase of your life?"
I rolled my eyes, even though she couldn't see me. "That was years ago. I've evolved. I can even froth milk now—professionally, I might add."
"Oh, I have to see this," she said, laughing. "Fine, I'll come over. But if your coffee is trash, you're ordering to compensate."
"Deal," I replied, relieved she'd agreed. "See you in an hour?"
"Make it 45 minutes," she said firmly. "You owe me, remember?"
The line went dead, and I set my phone down, suddenly feeling lighter.
But then a thought lingered. Should I tell her about my marriage situation with Evren? It wasn't something I had planned to share, but Zehra... she had a way of noticing things. If I didn't tell her, she'd probably figure out something was off and press me until I cracked.
The truth was, I needed someone to talk to—someone who wasn't a Demirci. Zehra was good at keeping secrets, and even better at offering the kind of blunt honesty I needed.
I got up from my bed, pulled on a pair of jeans and a casual top, and tied my hair neatly into a ponytail. After a quick glance in the mirror, I swiped on some lip balm, the subtle shine making me feel a little more put together.
Once I was ready, I sent Zehra my location and took a deep breath. She'd be here soon. I headed downstairs, settling on the couch to wait, my mind running through how this conversation might go. Would I actually tell her everything?
Before I could overthink it, my phone buzzed.
"Hey," Zehra's voice came through, crisp and familiar. "I'm outside."
"Okay, I'm coming," I replied, already springing up from the couch.
I stepped out into the garden, the crisp air brushing against my face. Zehra was already walking in, but the moment she spotted me, her eyes lit up with mock irritation.
"There she is!" she called out, striding toward me with purpose. Before I could react, she smacked me hard on the arm.
"Seriously? That's your hello?" I said, laughing as I rubbed the spot. Without thinking, I retaliated, smacking her arm just as hard.
"Oh, so that's how we're doing this?" she shot back, narrowing her eyes.
"Hey, I don't start fights, I just finish them," I teased, taking a step back as she lunged playfully at me.
We mock-wrestled for a moment, swatting at each other like kids, until she tugged on my ponytail.
"Careful!" I yelped, stepping away. "Do you know how long it took me to make this look decent?" I smoothed it down, glaring at her through a laugh.
"Oh, excuse me, Miss Ponytail Perfectionist," she said, rolling her eyes but smiling. "Let's go inside before your bodyguards think we're actually fighting."
"Good idea," I said, leading the way back toward the house. "And for the record, I could have won if I wanted to."
She snorted. "Sure you could've."
We stepped inside, and I was about to lead Zehra to my room when I caught sight of Derin coming down the hallway. My heart skipped a beat.
Wait—why was he still here? He should've left for work by now. Instead, he was strolling toward us in a plain T-shirt and sweatpants. Casual, effortless, and somehow annoyingly attractive.
Stop it, Fria, I scolded myself, shaking off the thought as quickly as it came. But my gaze lingered for half a second too long on the way his shirt clung to him just right.
Zehra, of course, noticed immediately. Her eyes gleamed with a mixture of attraction and mischief, a sly smile tugging at her lips.
Before I could say anything—or compose myself—Derin looked up and spotted us. His eyes met mine first, then flicked to Zehra.
God, please, I hope Zehra won't flirt with him, and that he leaves as soon as possible.
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