The sound of the doorbell shattered the quiet night.
He went to check, his steps steady but wary, while Ahce stood motionless in the living room. Her feet felt glued to the cold floor, her pulse hammering in her ears, each beat echoing louder than the chime that had just faded.
Then a voice tore through the silence.
"Ahce… see me!"
The name struck her like lightning. Her breath caught. That voice, rough, familiar, unforgettable. It carried years of memories she had fought to bury.
"Where is she?" The man's slurred demand rang out, bouncing off the stillness of the gated street. His words came heavy with alcohol and desperation.
"Ahce…" he called again, voice cracking under the weight of longing and pain.
From outside came the sound of something crashing, a dull thud, the scrape of metal, the clatter of objects being kicked aside. The noise jolted her awake from her paralysis. Without a thought, Ahce rushed out, her heartbeat pounding like war drums as she ran toward the gate. And there he was.
Patrick.
Her ex-lover stood beneath the dim porch light, his clothes drenched, rainwater dripping from his hair and sleeves. His unsteady posture betrayed the alcohol coursing through his veins. His eyes, red and wet, locked onto her with the same fire that once had made her heart falter, but now, she felt nothing.
Cold. Hollow. Empty.
"Why are you here?" Her voice was sharper than she intended, cutting through the night air.
"Ahce…" Patrick's lips quivered as he clung to the iron bars of the gate. "I still love you. Please… come back to me."
The sight of him, once the man she'd shared laughter and dreams with, now filled her not with pity, but anger. It coiled inside her chest, hot and bitter.
"Go home," she said, her tone flat, final. "And never disturb my life again."
He laughed, a brittle, broken sound that barely passed for amusement.
"Why? Is it because of him?" he spat, his gaze darting toward the man standing just behind her. "Do you only love someone when they're handsome? You married him because he's handsome, right?"
Ahce froze, disbelief twisting into fury.
"You..." Her voice trembled, but only from rage. "You have no right to compare yourself to him. You… are nothing!"
The words fell like shards of glass between them. Something strange surged within her, an unfamiliar protectiveness toward the man behind her. She didn't even understand it herself. Why did she care? Why did her heart race at the thought of someone insulting him?
It felt as though something buried deep within her had been disturbed, a ripple spreading across still waters, a forgotten emotion resurfacing.
Patrick's shouts grew louder, angrier, drawing attention from the nearby security guards. Within minutes, two guards and several curious neighbors appeared, pulling him away as he struggled, shouting her name again and again.
"Ahce! Don't leave me! Ahce!"
But the more he screamed, the deeper her disgust grew. The past she once cherished had curdled into something she couldn't bear to touch.
When silence finally returned, Ahce noticed blood. It dripped from a cut on the man beside her, her husband, staining his fingers and the cuff of his shirt. He had shoved Patrick away when he got too close.
"You're hurt," she whispered, her tone softening.
He didn't answer, only watched her with unreadable eyes, deep, dark, and filled with a quiet intensity that made her chest ache.
"Come inside," she said firmly, guiding him back into the house. "Let me take care of that wound."
Inside, the tension still lingered like smoke after a fire. She fetched the first-aid kit, her hands steadier than her heart. Gently, she cleaned the wound and wrapped it with care. He didn't flinch or speak. He simply watched her, eyes fixed, searching, as though trying to remember her face from another life.
Under the weight of his gaze, Ahce felt something stir, confusion, sorrow, and an ache she couldn't name.
"I need time," she said quietly, breaking the silence. "To sort things out in my life. Marriage here can be annulled, not divorced. I can't remember anything about you… And I'm sorry. But I need time for myself."
He didn't waver.
"I'll wait," he replied, his voice steady, absolute.
"Why me?" she asked, barely above a whisper.
A faint smile curved his lips, but it never reached his eyes. "Because I promised… You are my first, and you will always be my last."
Her heart twisted painfully at his words.
"I don't understand…" she murmured, her voice fragile. "The age gap…"
"Is just a number," he said softly, almost reverently. "That's what you told me."
Something flickered in her, a flash of recognition that died as soon as it came. She stared into his eyes, searching desperately for the memory that refused to surface.
She knew those eyes. She had seen them before, in dreams, in fragments of forgotten moments, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't grasp the truth behind them. The familiarity both burned and comforted her.
He stepped back, his face unreadable.
"I'll wait for you," he said again, quieter this time, before turning toward the door.
When it closed, the silence that followed was heavier than before, pressing down on her until she could barely breathe. Ahce stood there, trembling.
She returned to her bedroom, but the darkness offered no comfort. It only deepened her confusion, echoing the emptiness that had taken root in her chest. Lying on the bed, she stared at the ceiling, hand over her heart.
No one had ever made her feel like this, not Patrick, not anyone. What she felt now was something deeper, heavier, as if she were standing on the edge of a memory she couldn't access. It was like stumbling upon a story she had once written, then forgotten, only to find it again and ache at its words.
When morning came, the light did nothing to ease her restlessness.
Ahce left the house earlier than usual. Her parents had just returned from their trip, but she couldn't face their questions or concern. She told them she had to return to school and slipped out before they could stop her.
The streets were unusually quiet, or perhaps the world had simply grown distant beneath the weight of her thoughts. She hailed a ride, gave the driver the address of the small apartment she'd rented near the school, and watched the city blur past the window, a silent witness to the chaos unraveling inside her.