You loved me better blind

“How could you do this to me?” Cemil’s question was barely a whisper, yet it shook Airin. He stood several feet away, disbelief and hurt replacing the trust he had once given her so freely. He searched her face as though trying to recognise the woman before him, but all he could see was a stranger. “All this time,” he said. “Cemil…” “No. I don’t want another explanation. You don’t get to lie to me anymore.” Airin twisted the gold ring around her finger. “You don’t understand. I did it for you, for us.” “Then make me understand.” Silence answered him. Cemil laughed bitterly. “I gave you everything, Airin. My trust, my money, my life. And you kept the one thing I wanted most away from me.” Her throat tightened. His attention settled on her restless fingers. “You’re doing it again.” She stopped. When he stepped backward, her heart sank. How had the man who once trusted her with everything ended up looking at her like this? FOUR YEARS EARLIER Airin sat in the corner of a small café, staring at a cup of coffee she had barely touched. Her phone displayed four missed calls from her mother. “Finally,” her mother said when Airin answered. “Hi, Mum.” “Where are you?” “At a café.” “Have you eaten?” “I will.” “You always say that. Are you all right?” “I’m fine, Mum.” Her mother sighed but let it go, asking Airin to call when she was heading home. Although her mother had always loved her, Airin had spent much of her life feeling alone even when surrounded by people. She was still staring at her phone when she noticed a man searching beside a nearby table. A phone lay on the floor. “Excuse me,” she called. He turned towards her, his open eyes failing to meet hers. “I think you’re looking for this.” She picked up the phone. “I’m holding it out in front of you.” He reached for it with a smile. “You’d be surprised how many people put things into my hand without telling me what they’re doing.” “You’d be surprised how many people don’t know how to help someone without making them feel helpless.” He laughed. “You should be careful. You might frighten people away.” “Probably. But I can’t exactly see where I put things.” Airin smiled. “I figured.” “Was it that obvious?” “A little.” “Unfortunate. I was hoping to make a better impression.” “Is that what you’re doing? Making an impression?” “I was going to start by finding my phone, but I’ve already failed.” “Maybe try something easier.” “Like what?” “Introducing yourself.” “Cemil.” “Airin.” “Airin,” he repeated. “That’s a pretty name.” “You say that to every woman who finds your phone?” “Only the ones who don’t immediately ask whether I need help crossing the road.” She laughed, surprised by how easily it came. Cemil gestured towards the empty chair opposite him. “Would you like to sit?” “I was already sitting.” “Then I’m making excellent progress.” She moved to his table. Their conversation began with ordinary things before drifting towards the restaurant Cemil wanted to open. He wanted somewhere comfortable, with good food that ordinary people could afford. “The name is still a work in progress,” he explained. “Finding a location is worse. My father thinks I should forget the whole thing and join his company.” “Does he always decide what you should do?” “Only when he thinks he’s right.” “And how often is that?” “According to him, always.” His family had enough money to help him open a restaurant, but accepting his father’s financial support meant surrendering control. His father would want a say in everything, from the staff to the menu. “Why not use your own money?” Airin asked. “I am. But opening a restaurant costs more than people think. I don’t want to spend everything before the doors even open.” “So negotiate.” “I’d rather negotiate with a brick wall. At least it wouldn’t pretend it was doing me a favour.” She laughed. “What?” he asked. “Nothing. You’re different from what I expected.” “What did you expect?” “I don’t know.” “Very convincing.” She hesitated. “Maybe I expected you to be more serious.” “Because I’m blind?” The question caught her off guard. “Maybe. I’m sorry.” “Don’t be. People make assumptions. I just prefer when they admit it.” “How long?” “Five years.” She resisted the urge to ask what had happened. “And you still want to open a restaurant?” she asked instead. “Especially now. I want something that’s mine. Something I can build without someone constantly reminding me what I owe them.” Airin understood that feeling. Their lives were different, but she recognised the loneliness beneath his words. “You should do it.” “Just like that?” “Just like that.” “And if it fails?” “Then you try something else. You don’t have to give up before you’ve even started.” He smiled. “You make it sound simple.” “It isn’t. But it’s worth trying.” When they were ready to leave, Cemil asked for her number. “I could ask the café staff to enter it,” he said, “but I’d rather not have them saving their own numbers under the name of a beautiful woman.” Airin laughed. “You’re very confident.” “I’ve been told it’s one of my worst qualities.” She entered her number and returned his phone. “Now you have no excuse to lose it.” “I have plenty of excuses. I’m simply running out of good ones.” That evening, he messaged her to announce that he had finally chosen a name for his restaurant. Their conversation continued late into the night, moving from food to childhood memories and the little things that made a day better. For once, Airin didn’t have to struggle to keep a conversation alive. Cemil asked questions, remembered her answers, and teased her whenever she pretended not to care about something. Before saying goodnight, he mentioned that he was viewing a restaurant property the following afternoon. “My father insists on coming,” he explained. “Isn’t that what you wanted?” “I wanted his opinion, not his ownership of the entire process.” “Then tell him that.” “Are you volunteering to tell him for me?” “Absolutely not.” “Coward.” “Goodnight, Cemil.” “Goodnight, Airin.” The following afternoon, Airin joined him at the property after he invited her along. She told herself she was curious about the place, though she also wanted to see him again. The restaurant was small but promising. While the agent described the layout, Cemil used his cane to navigate and asked detailed questions about the measurements, kitchen, and renovation costs. His father arrived twenty minutes later and immediately began questioning the agent about the property. “I want to make an offer,” Cemil said. “You haven’t calculated the renovation costs,” his father replied. “I have the estimates.” “Estimates are not guarantees.” “Neither is waiting for the perfect opportunity.” His father dismissed the agent so they could speak privately, then listed everything that could go wrong. Cemil answered each concern, but his father seemed determined to prove him incapable of making the decision. “If you’re going to help me, help me,” Cemil said. “If you’re going to talk me out of it, save your breath.” His father turned towards the agent. “We’ll take the property.” Cemil stiffened. “I beg your pardon?” “I’ll have my solicitor prepare the papers.” “I said I wanted to make an offer, not that I wanted you to buy it for me.” “And I said I’ll handle it.” “It’s my restaurant.” “Then perhaps you should have come prepared to pay for it yourself.” “I have my own money.” “Not enough to do this properly.” “That’s for me to decide.” His father continued discussing the purchase as though Cemil had already agreed. “If you buy this place without my permission,” Cemil said, “I won’t use it.” His father paused. “You’re willing to throw away an opportunity just to prove a point?” “I’m willing to walk away from a deal that was never mine to begin with.” Cemil asked the agent to send the measurements and renovation estimates directly to his phone, then headed outside. Airin followed. “You all right?” “Perfect.” “You don’t look perfect.” “My father has a gift for making a perfectly good afternoon unbearable.” “Why does it matter so much what he thinks?” “Because every time I try to do something on my own, he reminds me that I can only do it because he allows me to.” Cemil exhaled. “I’m tired of having to earn the right to make my own decisions.” “Then don’t let him decide this for you.” He was quiet for a moment before asking, “Would you come with me to see another property?” “Me?” “You seem talented at telling me when I’m being an idiot.” “I’ve known you for one day.” “And already you’ve identified a serious problem.” She laughed. “I’d like that.” His phone vibrated. He checked the message using his screen reader, and its automated voice read his father’s words aloud. I’ve spoken to the owner. The property is no longer available to you. Find another way to occupy yourself, Cemil, because I will not finance this restaurant. Cemil checked his banking application. He had enough for the initial payment, but not enough to cover the renovations and opening costs without additional support. His father knew it. “He’s trying to force you to give up,” Airin said. “No. He’s trying to make me ask for permission.” Cemil put his phone away and turned towards the street, using his cane to find his bearings. “I’m not going to ask.” Airin followed him, unaware that this afternoon would become the beginning of something neither of them could undo. For the first time in a long while, she wanted to stay beside someone long enough to discover what happened next.