AHYAN
At night, when I come back home, everyone’s asleep––including Nur. I quickly heat the leftover food in the microwave and grab a big bottle of water from the fridge.
Sitting on the dining table alone is never a good feeling. Especially when there is dim lighting and the only sound you can hear is the tweeting of crickets. So depressing.
I chug the water down like a thirsty dog who has been roaming the streets with an empty stomach. Staring into oblivion, I stuff pasta into my mouth.
“Ahyan,” Annem startles me and I almost drop the spoon into my lap. Almost.
“Why are you still awake?” I ask in Turkish.
That’s when I notice her red-rimmed eyes. It’s like a sucker punch to the stomach and I feel physically sick. She had been crying. Of course she had.
“Don’t look at me like tha
