Leaving him was like circling the edge of a cliff, climbing over barbed wire with every step I took.
On the long path leading to my car, each footfall pulled me deeper.
He wasn't staying behind—
He was following me with every part of him: his hands, his skin, his eyes, his entire being.
He pierced through me relentlessly, never missing a beat.
His words echoed in my head.
All those moments he said he loved me.
All those times he confessed that he belonged to me, that life only had meaning when I was in it.
Life had become a mess to me now.
When I pulled the keys from my pocket and hit the button, the car doors clicked open.
I walked around to the driver's side, slid into the seat, and stared at the barren land stretching beyond the windshield.
I took a deep breath.
Then I leaned my head against the steering wheel.
And I wanted to cry.
I wanted to cry forever, to burn in myself endlessly.
I pitied myself—
Because I loved him enough to forgive everything he had done, every single time.
And he?
He saw me as so worthless that he could destroy everything I built with a single blow.
That cliff now stood as a symbol of the difference between us.
I lifted my head, slid the key into the ignition, and started the engine.
This was no time to cry.
As the wheels groaned and hissed into motion, I backed up slightly and turned the wheel, driving along the line of the road.
I didn't know what to do.
My mind was a total mess.
I just wanted to cry—
Loud, broken sobs.
After about fifteen minutes of driving, I reached the city center.
It was a bit more illuminated here.
At least the bright lights were still glowing, the billboards flashing, sirens wailing, horns blaring.
All these noises—
They made you forget you were completely alone.
In the midst of all that chaos, the reality slapped me in the face:
I had to focus on work again.
I was translating for a small film site, earning a modest fee in return.
No matter how hard I tried not to fall behind, everything somehow got pushed to the last day.
And every time I walked away from Poyraz, the devastation that followed crushed me all over again.
When I arrived at the apartment I shared with my roommate Asya—we split the rent—I pulled my key out of my bag.
My hands were still trembling, as if I was still standing in front of Poyraz.
With effort, I slipped the key into the lock.
I took off my shoes and stepped inside.
There was a cartoon playing from the living room.
The sound told me Asya was there, and instinctively, I tiptoed my steps.
"Is that you?" she called out, the crunch of sunflower seeds in the background.
"Mmhmm," I replied as loud as I could manage.
"Sinem!" she shouted from the couch.
"It's me," I said again, just to make her leave me alone.
I needed to be by myself.
Asya was good at comforting people.
But that wasn't what I needed right now.
I just wanted to listen to the voices in my head—
Even if I knew they were nothing more than noise.
When I closed the door to my empty room,
I felt her footsteps shifting from the living room toward me.
She knocked.
The sound echoed inside my skull.
"Sinem," she said again, this time in a softer voice.
She knew something was wrong.
I always turned into a helpless little child whenever something hurt me.
I couldn't even begin to describe how heavy everything in this world felt on my tiny heart.
My voice was trapped in my throat.
"Can you leave me alone for a while, sweetie?" I asked,
as tears began to roll down.
Now I felt safe.
"I promise I'll tell you everything later... but for now, please just let me be."
My tears blended with the trembling of my chin,
barely allowing me to speak clearly.
"Okay," she said,
and I felt her weight lift from the door.
Her footsteps faded away.
That's when the four walls began closing in on me.
I wanted to be alone—
But at the same time, I longed for someone to hold me while I cried.
That someone...
wasn't Asya.
It was Poyraz.
It was Poyraz who broke me.
It was Poyraz who shattered me.
It was Poyraz who destroyed me.
The one who lacked empathy, who only thought of himself.
The one who always blamed me, always tried to come out on top—
And lied to me, over and over again.
My teeth were chattering—
from the pain, from the trembling.
He had taken from me the last pieces of pride, the last bits of dignity I had.
And left behind nothing but autumns filled with rain.
I looked at the blanket, the one that seemed cozy under the comforter.
Then I tossed my fall coat onto the armchair and collapsed onto the bed,
still wearing my jeans and cropped white sweater.
That bed was my safe harbor.
There, I didn't have to defend myself,
didn't have to prove anything.
I reached for my phone,
my fingers trembling from the ache,
and opened the gallery.
Among all the photos lined up in rows,
not a single one felt like he was truly looking at the camera with love.
It was as if in every picture,
Poyraz had been forced into the frame by some irritated photographer—
trapped there unwillingly.
A bittersweet smile touched my lips.
My cheeks stung with the salty scrape of tears,
and I let my eyes close as my head dropped heavily onto the pillow.
There was a half-hour translation I was supposed to finish by tomorrow.
But sleep was too sweet,
too tender,
too soothing.
I wanted to ignore everything.
My eyes could no longer fight the exhaustion,
and my heart was screaming,
"Enough."
When I opened my eyes again—
somewhere between dreams and darkness—
the sky had gone dark.
I got up and walked over to the window.
The orange and yellow leaves of autumn were scattering in the evening wind.
And the weight that had settled on my heart
was mirrored in those swirling leaves.
That's when I remembered my phone.
There would be no message from him anymore.
And I wouldn't send him one, either.
No.
Even if he really texted me,
even if he apologized...
Would I forgive him?
Never.
I couldn't.
And yet—
I couldn't believe those words even came out of me.
How could someone lose all their self-confidence...
because of a man?
Wouldn't I still forgive him despite everything,
and rest my head against his chest?
Wouldn't I dream again—
of a perfect little life with him,
of a child,
if one day he pulled out a ring box and dropped to one knee?
You couldn't control your heart, could you?
My eyes began to fill again without permission.
The skin under them burned.
The house had gone quiet.
I assumed Asya had fallen asleep.
I didn't want to turn on the light—
If I did, she'd probably wake up and ask what was wrong.
But if she thought I was asleep,
she wouldn't push.
And maybe by morning, I'd have made peace with the storm inside me.
I went to the bed, reached under the pillow,
and grabbed my phone to check the time.
As the screen lit up, I took a deep breath.
My stomach clenched,
my heart pounded in its cage.
Every muscle in my body began to tremble.
The screen flashed.
But I wasn't looking at the time anymore.
I was looking at that shadow—
that dark blur that punched a cramp into my diaphragm.
A notification.
"I miss you. Sometimes I act like a child..."
The rest of the message was cut off.
I squeezed my eyes shut,
and inhaled shakily.
Could I handle the rest of what I was about to read?
If it was truly over,
why hadn't I blocked his number?
I tapped the screen,
and the full message appeared.
"You always understand me. I know you do.
I was just really angry.
Anyone would've said the same things in that mood."
My fingers were so sweaty the screen turned slippery.
As I locked the phone,
my chest struggled to rise and fall.
It felt like I'd been shot in the head.
No matter how much pain you endure...
you never really build immunity to it.
I wished I were stronger.
I wished I hadn't let him defeat me.
And yet here I was,
already questioning myself again.
Was I being too harsh on him?
Poyraz grew up in an orphanage.
Surely he'd seen more pain in life than I ever had...
But I didn't exactly grow up in a "good" family either.
I spent my whole life running from my parents too.
I couldn't even ask them for a dime.
Was I blaming him now?
Or was I the one who needed to get it together?
My mind was so clouded I decided to finish the translation work instead.
There was no other way to silence these thoughts.
I glanced over at my desk in the corner.
Even the idea of leaning back into that hard chair made my back ache.
But if I stayed in bed, I'd fall asleep again.
So I had to stay at the desk.
The screen lit up once more.
And it felt like lightning cracked straight through the center of my heart.
"Good night, sugar fairy."