forbidden whispers

chapter 13

After several hours had passed, they felt to Qasim like entire years.

He finally decided to go up to her room and call her himself. She had told him she would follow shortly, yet nearly two hours had passed since they parted, and she still hadn’t appeared.

Cursing under his breath, Qasim muttered irritably,

Was I too obvious? Did she understand? Did she read the words screaming from my eyes every time I got lost in hers?

He ran a hand through his hair, shouting sharply,

“Damn it… I’m an i***t. A complete fool!”

Taking a deep breath, he gathered himself. He would go to her and invite her to lunch. She couldn’t stay locked in her room all day. He was the one who had built the barriers, and he would be the one to tear them down.

He flicked the light switch in her room several times, but no sound came from within. He twisted the doorknob left and right—it was still locked.

What was that foolish girl thinking? Did she really believe he’d allow her to avoid him?

He pounded the door with his fist in anger and took advantage of her hearing impairment, yelling loudly to vent his frustration,

“Do you really think a damned door can keep you away from me? You’re foolish! No locked door and no fortress will stop me from reaching you!”

---

Wearing her pajamas, clutching her misshapen teddy bear, Masa sat on her bed anxiously, praying that Qasim would leave her alone and go away. She cursed herself a thousand times for not insisting on having a phone. She wanted to call Mirna to rescue her.

Before admitting it to Qasim, she admitted it to herself—with fear.

She didn’t feel safe.

Qasim’s behavior was strange, and she could no longer bear the conflict inside her—the pull and push, the rejection and attraction. She couldn’t stay alone in this house with him. She would not allow another incident like that to happen again.

Oh God…

How would she ever face her parents?

She shook her head violently. She must not sink into such shameful thoughts. She made her decision—she would go downstairs and confront him. She would put an end to these foolish occurrences once and for all.

---

She descended the stairs quietly. When he heard her footsteps, his eyes flew up to meet hers. She turned her face away, lowering her gaze, and continued walking toward him.

He deserves it, he thought angrily.

He gestured for her to sit while placing various delicious new dishes onto her plate, alongside the food Sarah had prepared earlier.

He spoke commandingly as he set the plate before her,

“Eat all of it. You’ve grown thinner since my mother left. If she saw you, she’d think I was starving you.”

She narrowed her eyes at him.

When would that bitter sarcasm leave him? Why did he always seem angry? What had turned him into this man? How she wished she knew what those years away from them had done to him. How she wished he had never left. What had exile done to harden him so?

She ate slowly, avoiding his gaze, while he poured her a cup of tea and placed it beside her. Her strange calm unsettled him.

What was she thinking? Had his comment about her thinness upset her?

He sat across from her, studying her intently, trying to read what was going on inside her small mind.

This isn’t good, Masa thought irritably. She hated being watched.

She took a sip of tea, then lifted her eyes to him, forcing a smile that never reached them.

Here we are, Qasim thought. Go on, my bullet—fire.

She gestured with her hands,

“Tell me about your blonde fiancée. I haven’t even seen a picture of her.”

His eyebrows lifted in surprise—he hadn’t expected that. Still, he pulled his phone from his pocket and scrolled through the photos. His parents filled most of them. The so-called engagement party.

If only she knew…

He rose from his chair, sat closer to her, and leaned in while holding the phone. She held her breath, instantly regretting her request. He flipped through the pictures, showing her his fiancée with his parents at the engagement.

Her beloved mother.

Masa snatched the phone from his hand, gazing at her dear mother. God, how she missed her. Her mother looked radiant beside her father, while Qasim and his stunning fiancée stood on either side.

She studied the fiancée closely—very tall and blonde, her mother appearing almost tiny next to her. Her wide smile, her bright blue eyes sparkling with joy as she looked at Qasim with unmistakable love.

A sharp pain pierced Masa’s heart—but she had to get used to these wounds now. Qasim belonged to another woman.

She observed Qasim’s gaze toward his fiancée—clearly filled with love and respect. At least he had found someone worthy of him.

He took the phone back, covering the screen with his large hand. The questioning look in her eyes drowned him. He didn’t like how attached she was to thoughts of his mother—she had to grow accustomed to her absence.

“That’s enough. Eat your food.”

Annoyed, she returned the phone reluctantly. Why did he order her around like a child?

She pushed her plate aside and signed,

“I’m full. I want my own phone.”

He nodded in agreement—he had been thinking about that the whole time he was looking for her. Why didn’t she have a damn phone?

“Of course. I’ll buy you one today.”

She shook her head in refusal,

“I have my own money. I’ve been saving my allowance.”

He smiled mockingly. Didn’t she know she was wealthy? She didn’t need to deprive herself.

“Consider it a gift from me. I didn’t bring you anything from Turkey.”

She shrugged indifferently—she didn’t want anything from him. Then, as if remembering something, she added,

“I gave Uncle Latif a letter for my mother. If she replies, please let me know.”

His jaw tightened. He recognized that reaction—she only moved that way when he was upset.

“Of course.”

She relaxed slightly. Then, lightly,

“Why don’t you invite your fiancée to visit?”

He frowned at her suspiciously. What was she plotting? She seemed eager for something. Fine—he’d find out soon enough.

“I thought about it, but she doesn’t like traveling much.”

She bit her lip in disappointment.

Was that regret he saw? What was she aiming for?

“I wanted to meet her. She seems nice.”

He nodded,

“She really is.”

Masa wanted to scream at him.

If she’s so wonderful, why aren’t you with her? Why did you come back to disrupt my life?

He noticed the flash of anger in her eyes.

She downed her glass of water and stood up,

“I’ll study for a bit, then go to Mirna’s.”

He studied her trembling eyes and ordered,

“Sit down. We need to talk.”

This was what she truly wanted. She had so much to say. She sat, eyes blazing with challenge, daring him to speak.

“Forget about the motorcycle. You’re never riding it again.”

Her eyes widened in shock—this wasn’t what she expected. Why would he stop her? Oh—of course. It was his motorcycle. But her mother had allowed it. Who was he to interfere?

“My mother allowed me to ride it. So why are you forbidding me?”

He replied coldly,

“My mother isn’t here now. I’m responsible for your safety until she returns. So you’ll obey me.”

Obey him?! Barbie’s fiancé?

She sneered,

“Don’t you think that’s a bit… dictatorial?”

With infuriating calm, he replied,

“That’s who I am. A dictator.”

She mimicked him coolly,

“And I’m a believer in democracy—so I’ll rebel.”

She threw the words at him and rushed toward the stairs like a bullet. He blocked her path, gripping her arm.

“I’m not done talking!”

She yanked her arm free and snapped,

“Neither am I! You have no authority over me. Go give orders to your Barbie doll and leave me alone!”

He corrected sharply,

“Hazal. Her name is Hazal. And she’s not a doll.”

The realization hit her instantly—she’d exposed herself. Her cheeks flushed with shame.

“I don’t care about her name or knowing anything about her. Just stay out of my life.”

That was the final straw.

She barely took a step away before he yanked her back forcefully, slamming her against his solid chest. When her eyes met his, her heart raced in fear—he was seething.

He roared,

“Your affairs are my affairs! If you think your behavior will push me away, you’re wrong. If I leave this place, I won’t leave alone—I’ll take you with me!”

He was too close. His lips moved clearly, maddeningly. She tried to pull away, but his grip tightened painfully around her wrist.

Tears shimmered in her eyes. For the first time since her parents left, she felt truly weak. She wasn’t used to being controlled.

He continued angrily,

“Do you know how I felt when I learned you rode that motorcycle? Do you know where I searched for you? Police stations. Hospitals. Clinics. Even morgues. I searched for your face among cold corpses. Do you know how unbearable that was? But of course you don’t—you’re selfish, caring only about yourself!”

She shook her head in confusion. Why would he search there? Why not just wait at home like a normal person?

Pointing at him with her free hand, she said bravely, masking her fear,

“I can take care of myself. I don’t need anyone. Go back to your fiancée and live your life. I’m not a child, and you’re not my guardian.”

He studied her pale face, trembling lips, and rapid breaths. She was as angry as he was.

She doesn’t need me…

But he needed her.

He needed to protect her, to be near her—not for her sake, but for his own.

Why couldn’t he reach her with kindness as before? Why did she want to be rid of him so badly?

A deep stab of betrayal pierced his heart. She didn’t want him—while without her, he hadn’t lived at all.

He remembered her tears when she begged him not to leave. He had been forced to go. He had lived through hell without her. If he had known she would change this much, he would’ve fought his parents and the entire world for her.

Too late now.

He exhaled harshly, shaking off the memories, and sneered bitterly,

“You can take care of yourself? Then why were you one step away from death?”

Her eyes flashed—how did he know?

He cursed violently and bent down, pulling back the fabric to reveal the wound on her leg. Her shock was evident.

“Don’t test my patience, Masa! Say one more time that I’m overreacting and I’ll snap your neck.”

She lowered her gaze in shame. How did he know?

He answered her unspoken question,

“When I saw the scratches and dents on the motorcycle, I went to your room. I saw your torn pants—stained with blood.”

Understanding dawned.

God, I’m stupid…

He lifted her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes,

“Tell me how you got hurt. Did someone touch you?”

She shook her head quickly, stepping back,

“A kitten crossed my path. I swerved to avoid it and ended up with this minor injury. That’s all.”

She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, avoiding his gaze.

She was lying.

Clenching his fists inside his pockets, he said darkly,

“Let’s agree on one thing—from now on, you don’t go anywhere without my permission.”

Her silent protest was cut off,

“And if you know what’s good for you, you won’t argue.”

Her eyes blazed with fury as she read his lips. That madman—who did he think he was?

She fled to her room under his burning gaze.

He muttered,

“You’ll be the death of me.”

He sighed heavily, staring at the first-aid kit he’d brought to dress her wound—but he wouldn’t follow her now. He didn’t want to push her further.

He would arrange a meeting with his aunt before she carried out her threat.

He would never allow anyone to harm a single hair on her head.

No one.