Chapter 1 — Some Encounters Aren't Coincidences - MEHTAP I

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⚠️ Suitable for adult readers. May contain triggering content. ⚠️

Mehtap ~

I woke to my mother's anguished screams. Still groggy with sleep, I blinked my eyes. I saw my father standing right by the doorway, staring at his palms in bewilderment. Something flat and gleaming in his hand reflected the light like a mirror, hurting my eyes. When I sat upright on the couch, I noticed the stains on the floor.

What was all that red? Paint? Ketchup? My mother's… b-blood…

My eyes widened as I registered the screams that had woken me moments earlier. The moment I got off the couch, I found my mother on the floor, living out the final moments of her life. What was happening?

"Mom?" I said timidly. My mother's entari… was no longer cream-colored. (Author's note: An entari is a traditional long, loose-fitting dress or robe.)

I looked at my father. "Dad. Dad, what happened?"

We had come home from the movies a few hours earlier. As I was drifting off to sleep, my mother and father had been sitting on the couch across from me, talking and laughing about the movie we'd seen.

I sat down beside my mother. "Mom? Mom, are you okay?"

All she could do was look at me with her fading eyes. My hand went to her cheeks involuntarily.

"Dad… Ambulance?"

I wasn't sure whether he'd heard me. "Dad, call an ambulance right now!"

He just stood there, watching us.

"Did I do this?" I frowned, unable to make sense of his question.

As if he were in shock, my father looked at the sharp piece of metal in his hand, then at the dark, jelly-like red substance coating his fingers. When his gaze turned toward us, I noticed that his face had gone pale.

I got up and walked toward the mansion's exit. When I opened the front door, I screamed with all my strength. "Dapîr! Ap! Bıraşîr! Is anybody there? Help!"

Hearing footsteps coming from downstairs, I returned to my mother's side. "Dayê. Hold on, dayê. They're coming… We're going straight to the hospital. Just hold on a little longer." (Author's note: The Kurdish terms dapîr, ap, bıraşîr, and dayê mean grandmother, paternal uncle, milk brother, and mother, respectively. Milk siblings are children nursed by the same woman.)

She looked at my face with the last of her strength and closed her eyes. The buzzing… The dizziness… The metallic smell filling the air, burning the back of my throat… The voices and cries around me…

My nails were digging into my skin like crazy, but I felt no pain.

I looked around at the crowd. When had so many people arrived? I realized I'd completely lost track of time. My gaze shifted to my father. He had sat down where he stood, his hands on his head, rocking back and forth as he muttered to himself. I guess… he couldn't believe what had happened either.

I got up and walked toward the mansion's balcony. I'd only slept for a few hours. I could still be dreaming. All of this… everything that had happened… these weren't things that could happen to my mother and father, who looked at each other with so much love. I was just trapped in a stupid dream. I was in so much pain. I was suffocating.

As I climbed onto the stone railing, the wind struck my face and swept my hair back. I didn't hesitate for even a moment.

Everyone called it suicide. I called it waking up… It was just one of the nightmares I had every single night.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

OCTOBER 17, 2016 — MONDAY

I slowly got out of bed and opened my bedroom curtains. I placed my hand on my chest and murmured, "It's all behind me."

I was going to visit my aunt today. So I got myself ready carefully for the hospital. After making sure I hadn't forgotten anything, I left home.

I was interning at the architectural firm owned by the man who paid my aunt's hospital bills, Kalender Kandemir. Or rather, it was one of his companies. He had so many of them. He came from a well-known family and was a philanthropist. We'd never met in person, but I followed him on social media and in the news. My admiration for this man grew stronger every day.

I wanted to be a strong woman. I looked up to that man, who was able to provide opportunities for children who had suffered hardships like mine, and I wished I could follow in his footsteps.

Right now, my life revolved around working and surviving. I usually spent three days a week at my internship and two at university. The truth was… I'd gone numb. Everyone thought I was cold, and I didn't have many friends. I had trouble forming connections with people I'd just met.

I'd only stood by and watched as my heart was wounded.

After that day, my body had frozen.

I couldn't seem to get warm.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"Welcome, Mehtap."

I looked at İlknur abla. "Thanks, abla."

I noticed the papers on my desk. "Do these need to be photocopied?"

She nodded. "Yes, sweetheart. If it's not too much trouble…"

She paused as if she'd remembered something. "Oh, by the way! We have an important meeting today. You should attend, too. If you decide to stay here, you could be part of this project."

She winked knowingly. "A special project."

I smiled, feeling excited. For the first time, I'd be involved in a project from the very beginning. I knew how much this would help me develop my skills. The education we received at school was theoretical, and there were differences between what we learned and how things were done in real life. Some of the information and software we were taught were even outdated. During my internship here, I'd learned a great deal of new, up-to-date information that would actually be useful in practice.

There was a stir in the office. "Mehtap… Sweetheart, let Necmi Bey know. Our guest is arriving."

İlknur abla got up and headed toward the double glass doors. I hurried to our founding architect's office. His door was open.

"Necmi Bey, our guest is arriving."

Necmi Bey got up in a rush. Whoever was coming must have been important. Otherwise, he wasn't the type to make such a fuss.

With him in front and me behind, we walked toward the double glass doors just as they began to open. A young man with a dark complexion entered the office. He was talking to the people accompanying him. I guessed he was a few years older than me, and his arrival made everyone in the office turn their heads toward him with curiosity.

Since we were expecting someone important, I hadn't imagined he'd be so young. He was wearing a plain white T-shirt with no logo and loose, flowing fabric pants. The white contrasted with his sun-browned skin, almost seeming to radiate light around him. Suddenly, I caught myself wondering what cologne he was wearing. Immediately afterward, I frowned, uncomfortable with the thought.

I stopped a few steps behind Necmi Bey and waited. Necmi Bey extended his hand and introduced himself. The man dressed in white did the same.

"Serhat Arslan."

His voice was strong, but he seemed to have a slight accent. Perhaps he was from the region where I'd been born. Could he be from the east?

I raised my head and looked at him with my usual blank expression, and our eyes met. For the first time in my life, I felt electricity course through my body. It was as if an invisible force were sending sparks from his gaze through my entire body.

Uncomfortable, I turned my head toward Necmi Bey and frowned again.

The people who had come with Serhat Bey wore black suits and looked more like bodyguards. It felt strange that he'd arrived dressed entirely in white while his bodyguards were dressed entirely in black.

I checked my own clothes. I was dressed entirely in white today, too. There was no one else around wearing white besides the two of us. Maybe that was why I'd felt that way.

"Mehtap, could you take care of the people who came with Serhat Bey? Let's have them wait in the guest lounge. If they need anything, you can tell the woman on duty."

I nodded. "Of course! I'll take care of them right away, İlknur Hanım."

Although I addressed her formally when other people were around, we were much more familiar with each other when we were alone or talking one-on-one. (Author's note: Abla is an affectionate, respectful form of address for an older woman, even outside the family. Hanım and Bey are more formal titles of respect.)

Some of the bodyguards went outside to wait, while others followed me into the waiting room. A few of them spoke Turkish, but the others communicated in a different language. It sounded like Arabic. I'd even understood some of the words they were saying.

Kurdish, Zazaki, and Arabic were spoken in the region where I'd grown up. Because my family placed great importance on religious education, I knew the Arabic alphabet and some set phrases, but I didn't know enough to speak the language. Or maybe I just lacked confidence in myself. It had been many years since I'd even heard Kurdish.

My father had… my mother, in seventeen different places… Ah… Even remembering those moments while thinking about it was difficult. Our picture-perfect happy family had been destroyed in just a few hours that day. One moment I'd been known as Daddy's princess, and the next I'd become the murderer's daughter. Aside from my milk brother, Muhammed Baran, and my aunt, I wasn't in contact with any of my family members.

My mother's relatives hated me because I carried the murderer's blood. My father's family, especially my grandfather, had rejected my father and didn't want me either because I was his descendant. The truth was, my grandfather had disregarded me simply because I was a girl.

They hadn't been able to find room for one little girl anywhere.

What's more, I'd been born into a wealthy aşiret, so they didn't have financial difficulties like my aunt did. They simply hadn't wanted me. They'd seen me as someone they didn't need. (Author's note: An aşiret is an extended clan or tribal community organized around kinship ties.)

After sorting the photocopies into groups and stapling them together, I placed them in pocketed presentation folders. When I finished, I gathered everything and headed toward the meeting room.

My gaze shifted to İlknur abla, who was speaking inside the glass-partitioned meeting room. With a serious expression, she was pointing things out on the slides, explaining her ideas carefully, one by one, to the people in the room. I picked up my pace, not wanting to miss any of it.

"Apparently he's an Arab businessman. With that many bodyguards, he must be pretty rich…"

I turned toward the person standing diagonally across from me and saw Ekin Bey. He was one of the most successful interior architects I knew.

When I realized he'd directed his comment at me, I frowned. This was our workplace. Were we really going to sit around gossiping? Besides… wasn't he supposed to be in the meeting room?

After studying my expression, he spoke mockingly. "You've already got wrinkles at your age. Don't frown so much, Mehtap."

"Excuse me?" What was he trying to say?

He touched the space between my eyebrows with his index finger and smiled. My eyebrows relaxed under his touch, and I flinched. Instinctively, I backed away a few steps.

"If you keep frowning all day, you'll have to start getting Botox while you're still young."

He pushed himself away from the desk he'd been leaning his hip against and headed toward the meeting room. "Besides, you need to move your legs if you want to walk. Come on, Mehtap, we're waiting for the presentation folders." He went inside, leaving the glass door open.

I hurried toward the meeting room. After closing the door, I began placing the presentation folders in front of the people seated around the table.

As I looked around, I noticed Serhat Bey watching me. İlknur abla was still explaining her thoughts about the project, but his entire attention was focused on me. It made me uncomfortable. When he finally looked away, I couldn't help feeling relieved. This time, he began studying Ekin Bey. I figured he was observing us because he'd seen our conversation by the door, so I ignored him. I placed the last presentation folder in front of Necmi Bey and sat down in one of the empty chairs.

The project İlknur abla was describing was enormous and incredibly detailed. It involved two mansions to be built in Bodrum and İstanbul. There was a guesthouse, a Turkish bath, a sauna, a garden and terraces on each floor, a gym, a swimming pool, barbecue areas, a fire pit, a veranda, an elevator, private parking, and so many other details I couldn't even list them all. I continued taking notes about the project, listening in admiration.

They moved on to the mansion's interior design presentation. As Ekin Bey got up, he winked at me and nodded toward the screen. That confident gesture showed he'd worked wonders again. How did he manage to succeed every single time when he worked so little?

As İlknur abla sat down, Ekin Bey began his presentation. Afterward, the landscape architect, the technicians who would be involved in the project, the civil engineer, the mechanical engineer, and the electrical engineer also shared their ideas. Once Serhat Bey approved the project, our team began discussing among themselves what needed to be done.

Ekin Bey said, "İlknur, I'm going to need one more person. Measurements will have to be taken, preliminary work prepared, and the materials to be used selected."

İlknur abla took a deep breath and looked at the architects, their assistants, and the interns working beyond the glass. Her eyes suddenly found me, and she turned to Ekin Bey. "What do you think?"

Ekin Bey gave me a sidelong glance. "You're going to give me an intern on a project like this?"

İlknur abla looked confident. "You know I don't see her as an intern."

Her gaze shifted toward me for a few seconds. "She's both hardworking and successful… If she decides to stay with us, I see no reason she shouldn't be part of the project."

I straightened in my seat and looked expectantly into Ekin Bey's eyes. "Of course I'd love to, if it's okay with you."

Remembering one detail, I shifted in my seat. "I'm thinking about getting a master's degree, so I won't be able to work full-time, but…"

"Then you'll be my assistant."

Ekin Bey turned to İlknur abla. "Would that work for you, İlknur?" She nodded, too.

Once I had the approval I needed, I smiled and looked down at the presentation folder and my notes. From intern to assistant… I'd be staying here.

Necmi Bey spoke in a slightly mocking tone. "Just don't overwork your new assistant too and lose her to an Erasmus exchange!" (Author's note: Erasmus is a European university student exchange program.)

When Ekin Bey's hard gaze turned toward him, the meeting room suddenly went ice-cold. The tension in the air was palpable.

İlknur abla turned to me to explain the situation. I guessed Necmi Bey's sarcastic words had made her uncomfortable, too.

"With Ekin's luck, his assistants always end up leaving us for Erasmus."

I couldn't suppress the impulse. "I hope I get that lucky, too."

I wanted to travel abroad, see new places, and get to know different cultures.

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