The private jet cut cleanly through the sky, its engines humming steadily as the city below faded into nothing but clouds and distance.
Emrah sat comfortably among his family and allies, the cabin filled with quiet chatter, soft laughter, and the rare calm that only came when danger was momentarily behind them. For the first time in a long while, no guns were drawn, no systems warned him of imminent death, and no time needed to be bent.
Adil's voice broke the calm.
"Where is your brother, Emre?" he asked, his tone casual but observant.
Emrah didn't hesitate.
"He stayed behind with Yusuf," Emrah replied smoothly. "Someone needs to keep everything stable while we're gone."
Adil nodded, satisfied. Kureys did the same. No suspicion followed—just acceptance. Emrah leaned back slightly, relieved. Another lie held together.
On either side of him, Efsun and Efsane seemed far more interested in him than the conversation. One rested her hand casually on his arm, tracing slow, absent-minded circles, while the other leaned closer, fingers brushing his shoulder as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
"You still haven't told us," Efsun said, smiling, "what's the first place you're taking us in Dubai."
Emrah chuckled softly. "You'll see. But let's just say… there are brands there that don't exist back home. Custom pieces. Things made once and never again."
Efsane's eyes lit up. "That sounds dangerous."
"Only to my wallet," Emrah replied, earning a laugh from both of them.
They stayed close—too close for anyone else to miss—but no one commented. Perhaps they had already accepted what was inevitable, or perhaps they simply didn't want to acknowledge it yet.
Food was served soon after. The atmosphere softened further as plates were cleared and conversations slowed. One by one, people leaned back, drifting into light sleep as the jet continued its journey.
Across the aisle, Aslan sat beside Nilay, their conversation quiet but animated. Emrah noticed the way Aslan leaned in, the way Nilay smiled and looked away just a second too late. Another thread forming. Another story beginning.
Eventually, even Emrah allowed his eyes to close.
Not to sleep fully—he never truly did anymore—but to rest.
When the pilot's voice came through the cabin speakers, it was calm and professional.
"Ladies and gentlemen, we are beginning our descent. Please return to your seats and fasten your seatbelts. We will be landing shortly."
Efsun straightened, smoothing her hair. Efsane reluctantly pulled back, though her fingers lingered against Emrah's hand for a moment longer than necessary.
As the plane descended, Emrah stared out the window at the glowing city below.
Dubai awaited them.
And none of them knew that this flight—this moment of peace—had already been paid for once with blood and fire in another timeline.
This time, however, Emrah intended to enjoy every second of it.
The heat hit them the moment they stepped off the plane.
Not the suffocating kind—but a deliberate, polished warmth, like the city itself was welcoming them on its own terms. Dubai didn't overwhelm. It seduced.
Glass towers pierced the sky like monuments to ambition, gold-tinted windows reflecting a sun that seemed brighter here, sharper. Everything shimmered—cars, buildings, even the air felt expensive.
Dubai wasn't just a city.
It was a promise… and a warning.
At the private terminal, engines purred as their rentals were brought forward. Matte-black SUVs. Sleek BMWs with tinted windows. Machines built for comfort, speed, and quiet power.
And then there was Emrah's.
A Lamborghini Urus, deep metallic black, sharp lines catching the sunlight like a blade. The car didn't just sit there—it waited, impatient, hungry.
Efsane stopped mid-step.
"…You would choose that one."
Emrah smirked as he took the keys. "Dubai would be offended if I didn't."
Efsun laughed, sliding into the passenger seat beside him. "If we get arrested in the first hour, I'm blaming you."
"You won't," Emrah said calmly, starting the engine. The growl rolled through the parking area, low and predatory. "This city respects confidence."
Cars began to move, one by one, forming a quiet convoy as they pulled onto the highway.
The city unfolded before them.
Endless roads stretched like veins of polished obsidian. Skyscrapers rose higher the farther they went, some twisting, some glowing faintly even in daylight—as if Dubai never truly slept.
Uncle Mehmet leaned forward in his SUV, looking out the window.
"This place doesn't look real."
"It's real," Aslan replied. "That's what makes it dangerous."
Adil's voice came through the radio. "Dangerous how?"
Aslan exhaled. "People come here thinking money solves everything. Then they learn power has rules."
Inside the Lamborghini Efsane glanced at Emrah. "You seem… comfortable."
"I like cities that don't pretend to be humble," Emrah replied. "Dubai knows exactly what it is."
Efsun smiled softly. "And what's that?"
Emrah's eyes stayed on the road.
"A place where kings walk in silence."
They passed luxury malls that looked like palaces, hotels shaped like sails and crowns, streets lined with palm trees so perfectly arranged they felt artificial.
Aslan whistled from another car. "So what's first? Shopping? Food? Or are we pretending to be normal tourists?"
"Food," Nilay said immediately. "Then shopping. Then chaos."
Aslan laughed. "I like your priorities."
Cengiz's tone came through next, thoughtful. "Emrah… you look different."
Emrah glanced at the mirror. "Different how?"
"Alive," Cengiz said simply. "Like you finally decided to enjoy the world instead of carrying it."
For a moment, Emrah said nothing.
The Urus accelerated smoothly, slipping between lanes like it belonged there.
"Maybe," he said at last. "I just realized life isn't only about surviving."
Efsun reached for his hand. Efsane rested her head against the seat, watching the city pass by with sharp, hungry eyes.
Dubai watched them too.
It watched the convoy of powerful families enter its streets.
It watched the man who bent time itself drive through its heart.
And it smiled—not kindly, not cruelly—but knowingly.
Because Dubai was a city of luxury, yes.
But it was also a city of temptation.
And temptation always demanded a price.
When they Arrived at their destination, The hotel rose before them like a monument to excess.
Marble pillars framed the entrance, gold-trimmed glass doors sliding open in silent recognition. The lobby beyond was vast and immaculate—crystal chandeliers floating overhead, polished stone floors reflecting soft light, and a scent of luxury so refined it felt curated.
Dubai didn't just offer comfort.
It performed it.
Emrah stepped forward, composed, every trace of fatigue hidden behind calm authority. He introduced himself at the reception desk, his voice steady, his presence commanding enough that the staff didn't ask unnecessary questions.
Keys were prepared swiftly.
One by one, Emrah distributed them.
"Aslan, Nilay—you're with me," he said, handing them their card.
Efsun and Efsane received the next set. "Your room's right beside ours."
Efsane raised an eyebrow, amused. "Convenient."
Efsun smiled softly but said nothing.
The rest of the family split naturally—couples heading to their own rooms, laughter and low conversation filling the space as fatigue mixed with excitement.
Cengiz received a separate key.
"The royal suite," the receptionist said respectfully.
Cengiz nodded once and handed the card to his wife.
Melike Saygın.
Emrah's gaze lingered for half a second longer than necessary.
This was the first time he had seen her in this timeline.
She carried herself with quiet elegance—silver hair perfectly styled, eyes sharp but warm, the kind of woman whose presence didn't need volume to command respect.
Efsane's grandmother.
And she hadn't been there before.
Emrah was certain of it.
On the other flight—the one that never should have ended—Melike Saygın hadn't boarded the plane.
Yet here she was now, alive, composed, smiling faintly as she exchanged a few words with Cengiz.
A ripple of unease passed through Emrah's mind.
Just by telling Cengiz there was a mole…
Entire threads of fate shifted.
Different passengers.
Different outcomes.
Different lives spared.
Time wasn't just fragile.
It was reactive.
Efsane caught him watching and tilted her head. "You okay?"
Emrah nodded smoothly. "Just thinking."
Melike glanced at him then—briefly, but with curiosity, as if sensing something beneath the surface.
Emrah met her gaze respectfully, inclining his head.
She smiled.
Not politely.
Knowingly.
As the group began moving toward the elevators, Emrah felt it again—that subtle pressure in his chest.
Not danger.
Not yet.
But confirmation.
The timeline was no longer following the path he remembered.
And whatever he had set in motion…
…was only beginning to reveal itself.
Emrah was genuinely excited to go shopping—so much so that even his parents noticed the change. They had never seen him this light, this alive.
His mother smiled, watching him laugh, then turned to Efsun and Efsane.
"Maybe you should surprise him with a gift while you're out," she said softly.
Efsun tilted her head. "What do you think we should buy him?"
"Ask him what he likes," she replied. "Then get it later—when he's asleep or distracted."
The girls exchanged a knowing look and nodded.
What they didn't know…
…was that Emrah already had plans of his own.
Plans so precise that no surprise could escape them.
Because somewhere in Dubai—behind bulletproof glass, beneath layers of security and secrecy—a luxurious watch boutique guarded a timepiece that had never once been meant for ordinary hands.
A watch that did not measure time.
It commanded it.
An artifact capable of bending not just fate, not just timelines—but the very structure of the multiverse itself.
And before the day was over…
The Infinity Watch
was about to fall into the hands of
Emrah Aybeyli—
one of the most powerful beings walking the Earth.