Ahce fell asleep not long after, exhaustion from the morning flight pulling her under. The cleaning, the arranging, the quiet movements around her parents' house and her own had drained her more than she realized.
The bed welcomed her like an old friend, soft, familiar, wrapping her in the kind of comfort that makes time dissolve. She slipped so easily into sleep that she didn't even notice she had skipped dinner.
But what woke her was not hunger.
It was heat. A different kind of heat.
The dream lingered, vivid and relentless, clinging to her like sweat on her skin. She could still feel the softness of that man's lips pressed against hers, the way his touch roamed across her, daring, unhesitant, coaxing awake a passion she thought she had long buried.
Her body betrayed her, remembering, craving. She could still hear her own voice, weak and trembling, breaking into moans that filled the air. It was as though the dream had crossed the boundary of sleep and planted itself deep into the marrow of her bones.
She opened her eyes, startled, and her gaze fell on the glowing red numbers of the clock: 2:00 a.m.
Damn.
Why was she even dreaming of a stranger? Why was her body so alive with the memory of someone she could not even name? She couldn't picture his face, only the warmth of his breath, the weight of his presence above her… and the panic when she ran out of his room.
Ahce sat up, restless, the sheets tangled around her as though they had been witnesses to something they couldn't explain. Sleep was impossible now. Her mind spun, circling the same questions like a moth around flame. Who was he? Why him?
She dragged herself to the kitchen and pulled a cold bottle of beer from the fridge. The sharp hiss as she cracked it open broke the silence. She drank it down fast, hoping the bitterness would wash him out of her thoughts.
But it didn't.
The memory clung tighter, every sip making her more aware of the fire she was trying to smother.
She pressed the cold bottle to her forehead and closed her eyes.
Who was he?
Why did she feel like this, as if her heart already knew the answer and her mind was too afraid to speak it?
Then, her phone buzzed. A message from her brother, not by blood, but by bond, a sworn sibling she could always count on.
[Sis… Remember Patrick, your ex? He broke up with his fiancée. She caught him cheating with a forty-year-old woman!]
Ahce stared at the screen, half-amused, half-annoyed.
A forty-year-old woman? That was… interesting. But hardly surprising. Patrick was always chasing something. Be it attention, validation, and women who made him feel powerful. It wasn't new.
She remembered the way he once told her he had found someone "better" than her. And yet, that someone turned out to be old enough to be her mother. She should've laughed back then, but the words had stung.
After all, even during their relationship, she had suspected the real person who held his heart was his so-called best friend. The way they whispered, texted, shared little looks, it was all too intimate. She should've walked away sooner. And he did, in the end, end up with that same best friend turned lover.
Funny how the pieces fit together now, when back then everything had felt like chaos. Still, she couldn't recall much of the time after their breakup. Whole stretches of memory seemed blurred, as if her mind had erased them for her own survival. Perhaps forgetting had been her only way of moving on.
It didn't matter, or so she told herself. She only hoped fate would be kind enough to keep their paths separate.
But luck was not on her side.
-
The next morning, Ahce stopped by the mall for coffee, still heavy-eyed from a restless night. She was stirring sugar into her cup when she felt the weight of someone's gaze. Turning, she froze.
Patrick...
And beside him, his so-called best friend, the same best friend who had turned into his girlfriend.
So much for breakups.
Her chest tightened, not with love or longing, but with a strange cocktail of disbelief, irritation, and something darker she couldn't name. She lowered her eyes quickly, pretending not to see, but her hands betrayed her, trembling as she lifted the cup to her lips.
She thought she had left him behind. She thought the past was buried. But there he was, flesh and blood, a ghost she never wanted to see again.
Strangely, before the couple could reach her, someone slipped into the empty chair across from hers.
"Can I sit here?" he asked.
She didn't look up right away, only nodded politely. "Sure. No problem."
Maybe she wanted an escape, a shield to keep Patrick and his best-friend-turned-lover from thinking she was alone, vulnerable, available for some awkward exchange. Or maybe, deep down, she craved another presence, someone to distract her from the bitterness crawling up her throat.
Then he laughed. A low, warm sound that struck her like lightning. Her heart stuttered in her chest, trembling as though it recognized something she didn't yet understand.
She looked up.
And when their eyes met, the world shifted.
In that single moment, something impossible unfolded before her, like a film reel flashing too quickly to grasp, yet sharp enough to burn itself into memory.
She saw a home filled with laughter. A wedding ring gleaming under soft light. A pair of small hands reaching up to her, calling her mother.
Him, this stranger, standing beside her, his gaze steady, protective, and unwavering.
A whole future...
A married life...
Ahce blinked, shaken, gripping her coffee cup as though it could anchor her to reality. It didn't make sense. She didn't even know his name, and yet some part of her felt as if she already did.
Who was he?
And why did her heart whisper that he was not a stranger at all?
"Long time no see…"
His voice carried a warmth that sent a shiver down her spine, as though he was recalling something she couldn't place.
Her fingers tightened around the cup.
"Do you know me?" she asked, trying to mask the unease in her tone.
He smiled, not the smile of a stranger, but of someone who knew far too much. Someone who had once stood close enough to see the cracks in her.
Familiar, unnervingly so.
Her mind raced, searching through faces, names, fleeting encounters, none of them fit. And still, the pull in her chest insisted they had crossed paths before.
That laugh...
Those eyes...
A familiarity that didn't belong to coincidence.
"I should," he said softly, leaning forward just enough for her to catch the faint trace of his cologne. Subtle, but stirring something buried deep within her.
And for a heartbeat, she was back in her dream, the weight of a body above hers, lips pressing fire into her skin, a voice that made her tremble.
No. It couldn't be.
Could it?