Who are You?

Chapter 3: Deep Suspicion

Defne Ateş

When I woke, my eyelids were still heavy, but my mind was already awake. I felt suspended on a thin line between waking and not waking—even as if I were standing at the edge of a dream, about to fall.

“Emir…” I whispered, my voice vanishing almost with my breath. The echo of that name lingered in my mind like a residual hum from the night. It felt as if I heard it just before waking.

I fixed my gaze on the ceiling, searching its white surface for meaning. Finding nothing, I simply listened to the silence—my breathing, the faint rustle of my body beneath the blanket…

But something stirred inside me. A small creature, a tumbling knot of doubt, had quietly slipped in during the night and made itself at home in my heart. No matter how hard I tried to hush it, it whispered the same question into the hidden corners of my mind:

Is this man really Aras?

I bit my lip. My heart beat slow and heavy. A void opened inside me—familiar, yet utterly unfamiliar. It was him—his looks, his voice, his gaze, even his smile. But what about what lay behind that gaze? The silences? The weight in those evasive phrases?

He was the man I’d been with for four years. I knew how he drank his coffee. I knew how his lip quivered when he was angry. I knew how his brow furrowed when he read a book. But the man standing before me may have looked like Aras—but the same feeling wasn’t there.

A small, insistent whisper echoed inside me:

“He can’t be Aras… He’s not Aras…”

I closed my eyes. Inhaled, held it, exhaled slowly. But nothing passed. The unease that had come with waking had taken root in me.

Emir.

A name.

A name I’d seen in a message but that Aras had never mentioned to me.

My head filled with hum. I went straight to the bathroom to silence my thoughts. I stepped into the shower, letting the water wash down the heaviness weighing on me. As it streamed over my head, I tried to drown out that familiar voice.

“It’s been nearly ten whole years, Defne,” I whispered to myself. “People change…”

Even that sentence echoed back like empty consolation. I closed my eyes.

“Okay, I’m being ridiculous,” I said softly.

I turned the water colder. As the chill droplets hit my face, the fog in my mind seemed to lift—just a little. I took a deep breath. I had to do this for myself. Doubts, names, the past… they all needed to quiet down now.

Stepping out of the shower, I felt a bit back together. I dressed in a simple yet tidy outfit. I looked in the mirror, applied light makeup to erase the traces of sleeplessness. No longer pretending—I just wanted to look and feel genuinely okay.

Without breakfast, I left. When the cool morning air hit my face, it felt as good as that cold water.

Today I would act as if everything was normal. At least I could try.

When I walked through the office door, I was greeted by a familiar chill—someone had cranked up the AC as always. I nodded in passing to a few coworkers; everyone was buried in their own tasks. Just the way I liked it.

My feet took me almost on autopilot to my desk. As I shrugged off my jacket, my inner voice persisted: “Act normal. Don’t meet his gaze. Don’t even say his name… Just focus on your work.”

I turned on my computer. As the screen brightened, I stared blankly at it for a moment. My fingers hovered over the keyboard, but I had no idea what to type. My mind still felt foggy—as if I was still wrapped in that steamy water from the shower.

“Good morning.”

The voice was so close that it startled me. I glanced up and found Aras—or whoever he was—standing right beside my desk.

He was smiling. That familiar smile. But now it felt foreign.

“They moved the meeting up an hour, just so you know,” he said. After a pause, he added, “Are you okay?”

I nearly screamed inside, Who are you? but I just nodded. “I’m fine, thanks.”

I managed a forced smile, gripped my coffee, and sank back into my chair. As he walked away, I watched him out of the corner of my eye. His walk—it was the same.

But something felt off. That but sat heavy inside me. A suspicion that wouldn’t be silenced or suppressed.

I took a sip of my coffee—unaware of its taste.

Today would be long.

When I stepped into the meeting room, the team seated around the table immediately caught my attention. Aras was sitting right in the center. As the meeting began, faces showed professional seriousness—but what drew my attention was Aras’s odd mannerisms.

While he was presenting, I flinched when I heard him mispronounce a technical architectural term. He never made that kind of mistake. Is he tired? Or is something else going on? I wondered.

Then my eyes fell on his hands. Aras normally used his right hand—but now he was taking notes with his left. A flash shot through my brain.

Was he left‑handed? I thought, stunned. It was impossible that I hadn’t noticed in four years.

Clearly something had changed. His voice, his gesture, even his hands.

This small but significant detail left a huge question mark in my mind.

Was this really Aras?

Or had someone taken his place?

I lifted my eyes from the table and looked at his face, searching—yet terrified of—the answers.

The meeting ended. I set my pen down on the files, packed my notes. Everyone filed out slowly. As I stood to leave, Aras came over. He leaned in, in his familiar “close-but-distant” way, without putting pressure on my shoulder.

“You know…” he said quietly, waiting for the room to empty. “On my way here today I couldn’t help but remember the old days. That place in Sapanca… the small stone house by the lake. You stayed up all night gazing at the sky. You wrapped yourself in a blanket when you got cold. And you spilled your coffee on the ground.”

I froze.

Only Aras knew that memory. I hadn’t told anyone else—it was a secret moment between us. Could he possibly remember that detail, word for word?

I choked on my tongue. I couldn’t think of what to say. I just stared at his eyes. He simply smiled.

A silent voice was now crying inside me: It’s either Aras… or... someone who knows everything.

But how?

“Shall we have dinner this week?” he added, his voice still that soft, familiar tone that made me tremble inside. “Let’s put everything on the table. Maybe it’ll help.”

I swallowed. My heart clutched at my stomach. I didn’t know how to respond. A dull hum filled my head—as if the walls were closing in.

“No one else knew about that. What is this? What’s happening?”

“I don’t know,” I said softly. “I need to think.”

There was no smile left on my face. As I turned and walked away, I couldn’t even hear my own footsteps. Only the echo in my mind:

“That moment was just ours alone.”