Who are You?

Chapter 2: Confrontations

That night I couldn’t sleep properly.

Staring at the ceiling for hours, the same question kept spinning in my head: Was it really him?

His name, his eyes, his smile... But something was missing. Or something was too much.

It felt like behind that familiar face was a completely different person.

The next morning, even while waiting by the coffee machine in the office kitchen, I felt restless. The coffee jar was empty—of course, Elif hadn’t refilled it. My eyes raced the clock, but my impatience wasn’t with time—it was with reality.

I leaned my hand on the counter. My eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep, but inside me, there was another kind of energy.

Tension? Excitement? Maybe both.

When I finally grabbed my coffee and walked into the office, it felt much quieter than the day before. As I approached my desk, Elif immediately came over, lowering her voice:

“Today Aras will be working with you.”

I froze. “What do you mean?”

“Well, that new colleague. The manager wants you to support his first draft on the project. He’ll learn and you’ll feel more at ease,” she said, winking.

“He’ll put me at ease…” I repeated to myself, with a bitter half-smile. When was the last time anyone actually put me at ease?

When I sat down, a new email blinked on my screen:

“Project support – Aras Çelik has been assigned for the first draft.”

Signed by the manager. Conversation over.

After a while, Aras arrived with his folders. He straightened his jacket and sat down opposite me, wearing that usual polite yet reserved expression.

“Good morning,” he said quietly. “Looks like we’ll be working together.”

“That’s what it says,” I replied with a slight nod.

I tried not to meet his gaze. But he didn’t look away. It was as if he wanted to say something, waiting for the right moment.

As hours passed, we spoke less than usual. Working on technical drawings, he asked a few questions—I gave brief answers. Then he set down his pen, placed his hands on his knees, and stared at me.

“I’ve started remembering some things about you,” he said.

My heart raced. Another game? Or is it real?

“You always used to take notes in university,” he said slowly. “And you’d doodle on the margins—flowers, clouds...”

I was surprised. I hadn’t told anyone that.

I used to doodle those flowers whenever I felt bored, especially back when I first met Aras in class, sitting next to him.

“I won’t ask if you remember,” I said, trying to stay calm. “But only we knew that. How do you remember, if you had memory loss?”

He paused, looking down.

“Sometimes… things just come back suddenly. Like dreams. I can’t tell if it’s real or imagined,” he said, but his voice sounded uncertain even to himself.

Something snapped inside me. Was this the reunion I’d been waiting for all these years? I felt utterly disappointed. I’d imagined this scenario many times—“what if I meet Aras again?”—dreaming myself to sleep. But this wasn’t it.

Silence dragged on. Aras buried himself in the folder as if nothing had happened.

The day was ending. I went to the kitchen for my last coffee. Placing my mug on the counter, Aras entered. He had a phone in his hand, quickly closed the screen and put it in his pocket—but one word caught my eye:

“Emir – Meeting Time Changed.”

My throat went dry.

“Is something wrong?” he asked, as if he hadn’t noticed.

“No, I was just getting my coffee,” I said, trying to hide my dazed look, and left.

Walking down the corridor, my inner voice waged war inside me.

Does Aras have a second name? Who is Emir? I strained my memory, but nothing came up. Nothing like that came up in uni or on social media. He was just Aras.

Clear. Pure. Honest.

Or at least I thought he was.

My steps led me straight to the fire escape, not the restroom. I stood in that narrow grey space for a while, taking a breath. My fingers were sweaty as I grabbed my phone.

Instagram… gone.

LinkedIn… only “Aras Çelik”.

Even his Twitter profile was deleted.

Or maybe it never existed.

I leaned my head against the wall. Closed my eyes. Am I being paranoid? Or is something really wrong?

Emir…

I whispered the name to myself.

It carried a strange weight.

Like I’d found the missing note of a melody I’d heard for years but never understood.

Familiar, yet foreign.

Cold, yet tangible.

A sudden shiver spread through me.

What if he’s really not Aras?

What if the man across from me just wears his face?

Stop it, Defne, I told myself. Who else would he be?

He was there—same eyes, same posture, same voice tone… Just maybe a bit more distant. But after all these years, isn’t that normal?

I took a deep breath and went upstairs from the fire escape. Office hours were over. Elif had already left. The office was silent. I shut down my computer, grabbed my bag, put on my headphones, and headed out. The cool air hit my face and eased the gloom a bit.

I got on the bus and went home. When I opened the door, my mother greeted me with a cheerful voice:

“Defne’s home! Come on, sit at the table—we were just waiting for you!”

My dad folded his newspaper and set it aside. My little sister Ceren turned off the TV. Tonight’s dinner was baked pasta and mom’s famous yogurt eggplant side dish.

“How was your day, sweetie?” my mom asked, serving me a big plate.

I smiled. “It was busy but nice. A new guy started today.”

“Oh really?” my dad said. “Is he a good guy?”

I hesitated.

“Yes,” I said slowly. “Actually, I knew him from university—Aras.”

I picked up my fork as if to suppress the flutter in my chest.

Laughter filled the table. Ceren shared some funny school story. Grandma grumbled, “You’re supposed to eat quietly, don’t you know?”

But my thoughts were already elsewhere.

That night, after everyone retreated to their rooms, I changed into pajamas and lay down. Staring at the ceiling, the unease inside me didn’t fade—it grew heavier.

After the accident, he had memory loss…

I grabbed my phone and quietly searched: “Aras Çelik accident”.

Results came in. I scrolled quickly.

Then one headline stopped me cold:

“University student Aras Çelik and his brother Emir Çelik involved in a traffic accident in which one person died.”

My breath caught.

His brother?

Which of the brothers died?

My body went numb.

I opened the article. The words on the screen blurred together, but one sentence was clear:

“Of the two brothers involved, one was rescued with serious injuries, while the other died at the scene.”

I swallowed.

The names weren’t disclosed.

If Aras survived, then Emir must have died.

But then why did the message say “Emir”?

“I should become a detective instead of an architect,” I murmured to myself.

I placed the phone on my nightstand and tried to sleep. But I couldn’t. I felt this knot inside me, my mind stuck on that name.

Emir…

Why didn’t you ever mention your brother, Aras?

What are you hiding from me?

What are you up to?

Anyway...

Whatever happens… I’ll figure it out. And soon.