Chapter Three

All at once, the traveling train departed from Paris, releasing its steamy whistles loud and clear, alerting all on-board passengers of their final destination in downtown Istanbul, waking me up from yet another nightmare. Somehow my exhausted mind was fixated on old scenery from my past, where I left all my broken dreams once and forever. Sadly, my delighted memoirs turned into scars of life that were impossible to erase as I continued to live the aches of disappointment over and over again. My fairytale hero was a courageous detective named Kenan Gocer, who stole my heart at first sight, yet in reality he was nowhere to be found except in the wilds of my imagination.

“Home sweet home,” I whispered to myself with an overwhelmed breath while looking out my passenger window. People of different ages were gathered all around the train station, waiting to welcome their loved ones or perhaps say farewell to those who were about to begin a new journey, far away from their homeland. Some were visiting for the first time while others were returning to their roots of birth after a long travel, just like I was. It had been a whole year since I left to go to Paris, yet despite the many reasons that drove me away, it was good to be home again.

Walking down the steady train steps, dragging behind me the single luggage I brought back, I looked up to the sound of someone calling out my name. It was my beloved mother, Leila. Her glowing eyes stood out within the heavy crowd, bringing my inner soul a joyful smile.

“Bahar! Over here!” She waved her arms up and down, seeking my attention. “My darling! I’ve missed you so much!”

“I’ve missed you too, Mother.” I ran straight into her open arms of maternal love and endless comfort. Her sweet scent remained fresh in my memory throughout our long days of separation.

“Welcome home, my beloved daughter.” She smiled while feeling my facial contour with her soft hands. “You look rested.”

“Yes. I slept the whole trip.” I smiled back, and we walked toward the exit together while the driver swooped in to carry my luggage, four robust men clothed in black suits surrounding our every move.

“I tried calling you many times, but the call went straight to voice mail.”

“My phone was off. I didn’t have good reception,” I noted while turning my phone back on. Once we reached the parked vehicle outside the train station, I took a deep breath, observing the different details of Istanbul that seemed to have changed over the past few months. Coming back to the same ground where I once resided with my happy family brought my eyes unsettled tears of both happiness and sorrow, concealed behind a smile as I wandered back in time to the same place where everything first started.

“The Yimlaz mansion,” I declared out in the open upon leaving the scene of the past, looking directly into the eyes of the driver, which reflected a blank stare back at me through the front mirror. As I sat in the back seat of the moving vehicle with my mother beside me, she glanced my way with hesitation, possibly guessing my secret thoughts without questioning my inner fears or judging my choices. She held my hand in silence, offering me her continuous support and a boost of courage to help me move on once and for all. 

Perhaps visiting the sore memory lane of mine was a good start to such past but not condoned journey, I thought, when I turned my head backwards to find the crowd of security following our trail every mile. Some time later, the silver-colored Mercedes pulled right outside the gated palace that used to be mine, revealing a great power and history behind its giant walls. The front metal gate was locked shut with a “Foreclosure” sign hanging down its fancy rail. 

Carefully, I stepped away from the parked vehicle to stretch my legs for a moment, looking around me, screening the place from every vacant corner. I was somewhat hoping to uncover a new surrounding, one that did not remind me of my shattered dreams, but a quick glimpse at the upper floor balcony brought it all back to me in a flash.

“Bahar? Are you okay?” My mother questioned my sudden pause as I continued to look from between the metal bars of our ghostly paradise. Every possible color had disappeared without a trace.

“I’m fine, Mother. Not to worry,” I replied with great uncertainty. The closer I looked at the wicked property, the more I understood the curse behind our family legacy. Sadly, I found no similarities to the place that I once called home, yet no differences, rather a contradiction of emotions floating around.

“It’s time to leave, Bahar. Come on, darling,” Mother Leila announced. Maybe she was more anxious than I was to depart. Sooner than I thought, I left the haunted house, not wanting to return ever again. I had too many open wounds that were not granted a grace period to heal properly, yet it was necessary for me to confront my weakness before moving on. Yes. The past was my biggest weakness.

Once I arrived at my uncle Hakan’s new home, I found myself a fresh beginning written all over its stone walls, a starting location far away from all the good and bad memories. Though the first day back in Istanbul was longer than I had anticipated, I spent hours tucked beneath the silky sheets of my cozy bed with my balcony door halfway open, bringing in a gentle spring breeze. My eyes were wide awake refusing to blink as I reposed my exhausted self in bed while flipping through years’ worth of diaries.

By all means, letting go of the bygone was way easier said than done. Although the day I left for Paris I made a promise to myself to move on, somehow I kept pulling back from such a lifechanging decision. Perhaps I was still not acquainted with my recent return to Istanbul while revisiting my former life.

While drifting within the waves of old times, I overheard my uncle’s voice coming from down the hall. I then realized that the moment of mine had taken me back into the forgotten world that no longer existed except in the written words of ancient letters. Just then, I rushed to hide the stained notebook under my pillow, fearful of exposing my secret thoughts.

The last time I saw my uncle was two months prior to my coming; meanwhile, he was busy planning his multi-billion-dollar investment of the year. A brand new hotel in the heart of Istanbul, the grand opening night of which was scheduled to take place that very evening.

“Welcome home, sweetie.” He smiled, taking me into his arms for a good few minutes, then planted a kiss on my forehead. From the first day I met him, he was always optimistic, and his positive influence was what I loved about him the most. Though he was never a part of my life while growing up, he returned to his homeland after many years of immigration, offering me and my family a loving home and a comforting shoulder to lean on. I then learned of his rocky relationship with my father, Fikret, which led him to depart the country on a one-way ticket.

During his many years of travel, he established himself into a foreign businessman with more money than flames could ever burn, not to mention power. Uncle Hakan was constantly surrounded by bodyguards whom I called “Men in Black.” Being the son of a former minister, assassinated during his last year of service, turned my uncle into a very cautious man. Unlike my father, who used his power to spread fear among everyone he knew and loved, I felt a lot safer with my uncle and not scared by his authority. He never tried to control me or my choices. Not even once.

Around seven o’clock in the evening, everyone at our residence was ready to kick off my first night in town in attendance to the Yilmaz hotel and resort grand opening ceremony. Uncle Hakan had been working on his profitable project for the past year, calling the luxurious development Istanbul’s top investment of the century. Notable families and business personals were among the many guests of honor gathered around the 80,000-square-foot site. The four-story stone building was located less than two miles from Turkey’s Galata Tower, a local attraction to many tourists and history lovers.

Upon our arrival, he took the stand in the main lobby to meet and greet his privileged guests, where the freshly painted atmosphere was pleasantly welcoming, along with the soothing sounds of piano tunes played by a well-known pianist. I took my first sip of white wine in celebration of the special moment, when the man of the hour finally arrived. His name was Selim Karaman, a brilliant architect whose project was chosen by my uncle among many creative offers. Selim and I met previously in Paris where he was finalizing his master’s degree in architecture. He was a very attractive man, though I was not magnetized to him in a voluptuous way. Even though our friendship was friendly casual, sometimes the way he looked at me gave me a strange sense, one I failed to comprehend.

“Good evening, everyone. Sorry I am late.” Selim smiled while exchanging greetings with my family. “Welcome back, Bahar.” He kissed my hand in respect before my eyes shifted away for a moment to wander off at a vintage painting across the room. The bright colors of its landscape mesmerized me with its earth-tone accent, creating the perfect distraction from the crowd.

“I’ll have another glass of wine, please,” I noted to the waiter, who came by offering me a second round of drinks. Meanwhile, the successful businessmen around me were busy discussing away their big night, my mother was entertained with her own group of guests.

“Oh! There comes Iskender!” Uncle Hakan suddenly announced. His happy voice shook across the room loud and clear and started my heart pounding and my body trembling with no control. I was so terrified to look the other way, fearful of facing the irony of the moment.

“This cannot be happening,” I thought in silence, creating a reasonable answer of my own. “I must’ve heard the name wrong or something… it’s just not possible.” I murmured again and again. Soon, I turned my head around to meet my uncle’s guest, only to face a ghostly soul from my own past standing before me. It was him indeed. Iskender Gocer, the defense attorney, and by his side stood his son, my ex-fiancé, Kenan.

In exchange for a quick greeting, the awkward moment was worse than any other time in my life, and the hardest thing to swallow was to control the urge to react, especially in other people’s presence. While taking note of Kenan’s seductive eyes, my skin color disappeared and a wild numbness of marching ants crawled all over me, as if my body was about to shut down.

“Excuse me for a moment.” I forced on a smile before I fled the electrified scene. I was in desperate need of hiding, with the intention to never witness the light of day ever again. If only that were possible. The outdoor garden was the closest of destinations. I stood closely to the balcony railing, pressing my palms so hard against its heavy metal, hoping to somehow release my built-up tension. Everything around me was screaming dark. Even the sky from above me was sinking in darkness, without a single star at sight nor a visible sign of hope.

“History cannot repeat itself,” I assured myself over and over again while the tunes of music extended their sedative rhythms outdoors. It was right there and then that I lost my breathing technique, inhaling a frustrated breath wishing to chock it forever. I made a pledge to myself long ago never to drown in the past, but the moment of weakness was stronger than my sincere promise. I turned around in an attempt to leave the party at once, only to find Kenan standing in the doorway walking up to close the distance between us. For a few minutes we stared at one another without speaking, rather exchanging a look of anger and revenge, smoking up a storm in motion.

“Bahar…”

“Don’t!” I raised my hand up against his face, stopping him from talking any further. As much as I loved the sound of his voice reaching out to me, I was incapable of listening to him any more.

“Bahar. Please…” He pleaded. His innocent eyes almost fooled me, yet I refused to fall into his web of deception once again. I suffered enough already and all because of him. He had absolutely no perfect excuse to hide behind.

“Please, don’t say anything. For the sake of old times,” I declared in confidence while holding on to my burning tears, afraid of their unpredictable release. I walked past him to leave, but he grabbed my arm to stop me, leaving me sick to my stomach. “Don’t touch me!” I yelled, pulling myself back, wanting nothing to do with him.

“I am sorry,” he apologized, glancing his eyes at mine and not moving a muscle when I stormed back into the ballroom of musicals, leaving him behind. Thankfully, I managed to escape the repulsive atmosphere in which I felt like drowning, before running into Selim. He showed up just in time to save me from my own self, unaware of my resurfaced agony.

“There you are. I was looking for you,” Selim said with a smile.

“I am here.” I was secretly feeling the tension while searching for a possible sign of Kenan.

“Would you like to dance?” he politely suggested with a motivation to entertain me. A perfect distraction from the current happenings, I thought.

“Yes. Of course. I would love to dance with you.” I happily accepted his hand of invitation. Together, we walked to the dance floor to join the other couples dancing away the slow moving musical notes when an old song of grieving love began to play, reminding me of much more painful words which I chose to bury alive without a second chance of survival.

While in the arms of Selim, I felt so lonely, very much lonely. Perhaps that was my destiny with old and new memories that were refusing to leave me alone. I didn’t care anymore if Kenan was to come back to me or not, or even if he loved me or not. I felt nothing but a broken heart, dancing my longing for love.

Following my last trail, Kenan walked back inside to find me with my new partner, dancing the romantic moves together. The words of sorrow were well played, loaded with craving tears. Hand in hand with Selim, my eyes kept wandering Kenan’s way and vice versa. My heart was shattered beyond repair with too many painful recollections of us resurfacing. More pressure than I wished to possibly handle.

Just as the song ended, I excused myself to the ladies’ room. Running my way as fast as I could, I entered the fancy stall like an unannounced storm, locking the single door behind me. I leaned my undying burdens against the solid wood, facing myself in the shiny mirror across the way. I was breathing rapidly trying to hold back from sobbing, when my intact tears erupted at once. 

The last time I had seen Kenan was on the night that I was shot in his arms, where he broke up with me rather than hold me tight. Though I was still angry with him for giving up on us, I was furious with myself for surrendering to the moment of reunion that appeared out of the blue. It was too late to reconcile with such cursed destiny. It had been a long year of separation and endless pain between us. Deep within my heart, I knew that it was impossible to fix what was broken, nor to stop my heart from bleeding his first love. 

With a splash of cold water, I pulled myself together and rejoined the partying guests.

Halfway into the evening, Kenan disappeared, leaving me somewhat relieved. Seeing him for the first time in a long time was like a volcano of emotions exploding without a warning. Meanwhile, all guests were gathered in the main lobby waiting to cut the grand opening ribbon and share the delicious pastry, crafted with creativity to resemble the structure of the actual building.

In the lead was my uncle, standing with absolute pride, and to his left was Selim and, of course Kenan’s father, Iskender. My mother and I stood on the opposite side when the fiery candles sparkled up for a few seconds before the applause poured in congratulating my family’s new success. The moment of achievement was not really my own to praise, and so I couldn’t help but wonder about the sudden coincidence that brought Kenan back into my world. Though my uncle knew of my past relationship with the Gocer family, I had no opportunity to question their special invitation, yet alone my uncle’s motives. He was constantly surrounded by people left and right, engaged in endless conversations.

“Congratulations, Mr. Yilmaz.” A repeated compliment I heard all night as a result of the expected success of the event, which wrapped up shortly after midnight. Selim was kind enough to drop me off before heading to the airport for a short flight. His family was expecting him in Antalya for the weekend. We were also invited to stay over for a few days, and were planning to catch an early flight the following morning.

Once I got home, both my mother and uncle were already there. I walked into the living room of endless questions and untold truth to find unusual silence hovering like a haunted shadow. Neither one knew how to start the conversation, so I took the first initiative in breaking up the ice.

“I don’t understand…why? Why am I the last person to know about Kenan’s invitation?” I targeted my uncle with furious eyes. I’ve never argued with him before, not that he had given me a reason to do so. Not until that night, anyway. Meanwhile, my mother remained quiet. I recognized the look of guilt written all over her facial lines, which kept her from answering me back. Of all people, she was the one to always tell me everything, yet not this time.

“I am sorry, Bahar…I have my reasons,” he replied with confidence, pouring himself a glass of rum. His answer did not explain what I intended to find out. Frankly, it brought me more questions than ever before.

“What kind of reasons?” I smiled with sarcasm. “What reason could possibly be more important than the truth?” I was entitled to a reasonable explanation, because seeing Kenan that night without a decent warning was unnecessary. I felt like I was ambushed in my own territory, and I had every right to know why that was.

“I know I should have told you before, and I am very sorry for putting you in such an awkward position, but Iskender is a dear old friend of mine, not to mention my attorney. As for Kenan, his presence in our lives is very important. He’s working on a case of mine that requires his full attendance.” The burning fire was dying out quickly when he got off his seat to feed it a fresh log of wood, leaving me puzzled.

“What case would that be?” I wondered, looking at my mother, hoping that she had something new to add to the mystery conversation. Of all detectives in Istanbul, Kenan had to be the chosen one? Why? The reason failed to cross my mind, perhaps because I was still in denial of the sudden events, or rather I chose to be.

“I am afraid I can’t say. It’s rather personal, and all information is confidential. Kenan and I are obligated to keep a lid on everything happening behind the scenes. Please, try and understand my position. I cannot compromise the investigation.”

“I wanted to tell you from the beginning, Bahar, but in the back of my mind I thought you had moved on from your past with Kenan. Or, am I wrong?” My mother finally spilled the beans. She hit the sensitive nerve of mine without a chance of denying.

“No, you’re not wrong at all. Of course I’ve moved on. Kenan is an old chapter. He means nothing to me, and his presence will certainly make no difference.” Despite all the memories that kept pulling me back to my old life with Kenan, I was in search for new opportunities and a new beginning. If I learned one valuable lesson from everything brutal that I went through before, it was to never allow anything or anyone to stop me from being happy. I owed myself happiness at any possible cost. “We have an early flight to wakeup to in the morning. Good night.” Without any further discussion, I wrapped up the conversation, then walked away.

Unfortunately, my fast escape ended so quickly. My first evening in town was worse than my last. I spent all night tossing and turning in bed, trying to ease my tired mind. The past was nothing to me but a faded page of unsettled dreams. Every memory of mine was intact within a giant pit of distress, torturing me and burning my soul. The more I wished to set my reminiscence free, the closer to me it felt, capturing me with metal handcuffs.

Why was it so hard for me to turn over a new leaf? Why was it so painful to move forward? Going back in time was like turning my back to everything beautiful I decided to build from scratch. Throwing my year of recovery was a bad move on my behalf, loaded with regrets and empty wishes. The day I returned to my homeland, I thought I was ready to unlock a new path, but a closer look into the window of memories reminded me of my old self and the person I used to be.

In a strange universe like the one we are born to explore, we sometimes deny ourselves powerful feelings and possible choices, but in the end, the heart is the master of the mind, choosing for us what we fail to choose for ourselves. Perhaps that very liberty is what most people call destiny, but if that is the case, would such written fate ever lead us to reconcile with the past that we failed to make peace with once before? Or will it continue to haunt us forever? One question of reality was all it took me to retrace my previous steps, reminding me of how it all began.