forbidden whispers

chapter 15

Qasim descended the stairs with an outward calm, while inside him a volcano raged.

He had crossed the limits and the rules he had imposed upon himself.

He had crossed the red line—and there was no turning back now.

He heard the guests’ voices drifting from the living room.

He did not want to see anyone—

not at this moment, especially.

With steady steps, he walked toward his parents’ room and locked the door tightly.

Only then did he unleash his fury, letting it erupt toward the heavens.

What had he done?!

He never wanted things to reach this point.

Damn it—he had lost control of himself.

He had exposed his cards before her.

How would he deal with her now?

And how would this reckless act affect her studies?

He would never forgive himself.

And his mother—she would never forgive him either.

He had sworn to her to be gentle, patient, and kind—

never to hurt her, never to wound her, never to force her into anything she did not want.

And what had he done?!

He had broken his vow and crossed every boundary.

He had humiliated her, stabbed at her honor and morals—

her, who had been raised and nurtured by his mother’s own hands.

Damn it.

He slammed his clenched fist against the wall, shouting violently, venting his rage without caring for the pain of the blows—

for the pain inside him was far stronger, far more brutal.

---

The familiar light turned on—one she had seen countless times—yet she did not move.

Her gaze remained fixed on the ceiling of her room, staring at the crystal ball hanging above, reflecting red hues mixed with other colors, as if she were sitting in a wedding hall.

Even now, she was trying to process what Qasim had done to her.

Questions piled up relentlessly in her mind.

Why?

He had a fiancée waiting for him, yet he chose to stay close to her.

Why would he do that?

She had told him to return to his previous life, to leave her and travel—but he had fiercely refused, making it clear that if he traveled, he would not travel alone.

What was he planning?

What did he want from her?

And now—his despicable, immoral behavior only deepened her suspicions.

What did he intend to do to her?

Why did he accept her if he did not love her?

Why cling to her when he had another life?

What did he want from her?

No one knew they were not siblings except their uncles and her parents.

No one else.

Was he planning to exploit this secret for…?

For what?!

That bastard—what was he thinking?

Tears welled in her eyes again as she remembered his humiliation.

Did he think so little of me?

Did I fall in his eyes?

Did he decide I was fit neither to be a sister nor worthy to be a wife—

so he chose to turn me into a w***e?

Did he believe he had more right than anyone else to toy with me?

The deeper she sank into her thoughts, the stronger the nausea became.

She rushed to the bathroom and emptied everything inside her, drowning in tears, sorrow, and brokenness.

If only he had never returned.

If only he had preserved her pure memories of him.

---

The aunt descended the stairs, visibly embarrassed.

Qasim had disappeared, leaving her alone to welcome the guests.

Masa had locked herself inside her room, not responding, and Qasim was nowhere to be found in his.

Qusai stood hesitantly, preparing to leave.

He desperately wanted to speak with Qasim to clear up the misunderstanding—but no matter, he would resolve this later.

He truly admired his sister and knew he was not toying with her as he had feared.

A deep sense of relief washed over him.

Qasim was not a man to be taken lightly, and that reassured his heart—

his girl would be in safe hands.

“I was truly pleased to meet you, Auntie.

Please send my regards to Mr. Qasim.

My sister is in your care.”

The aunt forced a polite smile as she escorted Qusai to the door.

When she returned to Mirna, Mirna spoke first:

“I know Masa’s room. I used to come here often and spend the night when Aunt Hanan was around, so don’t trouble yourself.”

Before the aunt could reply, Mirna hurried upstairs toward Masa’s room.

---

The red lights flickered again on the ceiling of her room.

Masa glanced at the door, wondering how long she had been sitting there—and what had happened between Qasim and Qusai.

She sighed and stood up just as Mirna’s hand latched onto the red light switch and refused to release it, while her other hand rattled the doorknob right and left in an irritating rhythm.

She knew her friend well.

She opened the door and returned to her bed with heavy steps, as if drained of all will.

“So this is how you welcome your guests?

You invite them into your home, then hide in your room?”

Then, with sudden realization, Mirna covered her mouth in a silent gasp.

“Did you fight with your brother?!

Oh, Masa—you’re stupid.

I told you a thousand times not to provoke him.

Tell me—did he hit you?!”

Masa lifted her eyes in shock.

Qasim hitting her?

She wished he had.

She wished he had struck her instead of kissing her.

A blow would have hurt her body only—

but his kiss had wounded her soul, her heart, her mind.

She could not find peace without understanding what drove him to do it.

He was supposed to be her brother—

despite the feelings she harbored for him.

He had always treated her as a sister.

So what had changed now—

for him to treat her like a cheap girl?

The nausea returned violently, and she rushed to the bathroom again, emptying her stomach for the second time.

Mirna waited with a towel, worry etched across her face.

“You look very pale… are you sick?”

Masa took the towel and buried her face, avoiding Mirna’s curious gaze.

She felt no desire to speak—to anyone, about anything.

She inhaled deeply, counted to ten, then exhaled slowly.

She lowered the towel, looked at her friend with a wide smile, and gestured enthusiastically.

“I’m hungry! Shall we eat?”

Mirna frowned.

“You’re moody and unpredictable!”

Then added with equal enthusiasm,

“But honestly, I’m starving too. Let’s eat!”

---

Luckily, they did not encounter anyone on their way to the kitchen.

Masa reheated the food Sarah had prepared earlier and frozen, while Mirna made the salad and sauce.

Masa took out strips of cured meat and fried them alongside a plate of French fries.

She did not utter a single word the entire time, moving mechanically, as though her soul had left her body.

Finally, she filled the glasses with juice and water and sat across from Mirna at the table.

She looked proudly at what she had prepared—then suddenly lost her appetite.

She was not hungry at all.

All she felt was gloom, nausea, and disgust.

She picked at her food with her fork while Mirna spoke with her mouth full:

“Aren’t we going to invite your aunt and Qasim to eat?”

Masa frowned, confused.

“My aunt is still here?”

Mirna nodded.

“She told me and Qusai she’s staying at the mansion until you finish your exams.”

Masa’s eyes widened in shock.

Why didn’t I know this?

That means there’s no longer a need for Qasim to stay here.

He must have brought her to replace him so he could return to his fiancée.

A wave of relief washed over her.

Perhaps she had misunderstood his behavior.

Perhaps she had judged him unfairly.

But… how would she face him after what had happened?

It would be difficult—

but if he was leaving, it wouldn’t last long.

A day or two, perhaps—and he would be gone to his fiancée.

She stood up abruptly.

“I’ll go invite my aunt to dinner.”

She hurried toward the guest room, while Mirna watched her mood shift in silence.

---

She knocked lightly on the door and waited.

She felt nervous—years had passed since she last saw her aunt, and her memories of her were never kind.

But she did not care.

If her aunt would stay while Qasim left, she would endure her gladly.

Her aunt rolled her eyes when she saw her standing there.

“What do you want?” she asked sharply.

Masa gestured with her hands—then realized she hadn’t brought her notebook.

She spotted a pen and paper on the table behind her aunt and slipped inside quickly, ignoring the unwelcoming stare.

All she wanted was confirmation that Qasim would not stay long.

She wrote rapidly, bent over the table, her hair falling over her forehead and cheek, while her aunt watched impatiently.

Finally, Masa held up the paper for her to read:

“Is it true that you will stay with me until my exams end and Qasim will return to Turkey?

If so, I promise I will not bother you at all during your stay.”

Her aunt raised an eyebrow mockingly.

“That’s true. I will stay until your exams are over.

But don’t dream that I will serve you—you will serve yourself. And—”

Masa did not let her finish.

She grabbed her aunt’s hand and pulled her excitedly toward the door.

Her aunt yanked her hand back angrily.

“What are you doing, you mute girl?! Have you gone mad?!”

Masa clasped her hands apologetically and hurried to write again:

“I prepared a light dinner. I’d be happy if you joined us.”

Her aunt refused with clear disgust.

“I will not eat anything made by your hands.

I’ve ordered food from outside.

Go back to your friend and don’t bother me again.”

She grabbed Masa by the arm, shoved her outside, and slammed the door shut.

But Masa refused to let anyone ruin her peace.

She descended the stairs happily, reassured—

Qasim would be leaving soon.

Her suffering would finally end.

---

She entered the kitchen and found Qasim sitting across from Mirna, who was chatting animatedly.

When Mirna saw Masa, she signaled with her eyes for her to disappear and give her space to get closer to Qasim.

Masa vanished as quickly as she had appeared.

Qasim caught a glimpse of her from the corner of his eye—his heart racing at her presence.

A sharp stab pierced his chest when she obeyed her friend’s silent command and disappeared again.

He exhaled angrily and tried to maintain the conversation; he still had questions that needed answers.

“So you’re not in the same academic year as Masa? That’s strange.

How will you help her study, then?”

Mirna replied awkwardly:

“She wanted me around—she feels lonely.

You’re always busy, and we’re used to visiting and staying over at each other’s places.”

A muscle twitched in his jaw.

Lonely—with him present?

Damn it.

She wanted someone to hide behind.

A shield to protect her from him.

That foolish girl.

And his mother—how could she allow her to spend nights away from home?

She must have lost her mind too.

“Your brother—how is he?”

Mirna shook her head quickly.

“Qusai is very kind; he never holds grudges.

He understood that you worry about your sister.

He even told my aunt that if he were in your place, he would’ve done the same.”

Qasim’s eyes flashed with anger.

Mirna continued enthusiastically:

“We used to play together in middle school.

Masa loved horses, and so did my brother—he even tried to teach her how to ride.

You could say the three of us have been friends since childhood.”

Then she added shyly, her gaze lingering on him:

“I always saw you when you came with your mother to pick up Masa from school or the riding club…

Don’t you remember when I fell down the stairs and you carried me and bandaged my leg?”

Qasim raised an eyebrow.

Is she really talking about herself?

He did not remember her at all.

What he remembered was Masa running toward him, terrified and crying, pointing at her fallen friend and begging him to help—

saying she would die if he didn’t.

He had told her to fetch his mother, but her breakdown—her sobbing and kneeling—forced him to act.

Only when he carried her friend and treated her wounds did Masa calm down.

There were no fractures—just scratches.

Yes, he did not remember the friend at all.

What he remembered was Masa’s face lighting up through tears, her joyful shout that her brother was the best, and how she had thrown herself into his arms, kissing his cheeks.

He had never forgotten that moment.

She was twelve then; he had just finished high school and was preparing for university.

He inhaled deeply and met Mirna’s shy gaze.

She had said something he hadn’t caught—lost in memory.

He offered a polite smile and asked:

“Qusai… does he have a wife or a fiancée?”

Mirna shook her head quickly.

“No, not yet.

He’s found the right girl, but the timing isn’t suitable because—”

Qasim raised an eyebrow, waiting.

Mirna realized her slip and laughed awkwardly.

“My mother… she says it’s still too early.”

This girl and her brother were planning something.

If his suspicions were true, they’d better reconsider.

Qasim pressed his lips together.

“So he lives in the same house with you?

He doesn’t have his own place?”

Mirna denied quickly.

“After marriage, he will.

He’s almost saved enough from his own work.”

Wonderful.

Masa sleeps in the same house as that i***t.

Since when has this been happening?

A dagger drove deep into his heart.

Did that bastard manage to trap her?

Is he delaying his marriage while waiting for her exams to end?

He squeezed the glass in his hand unconsciously, drowning in dark thoughts.

The glass shattered suddenly.

Mirna rushed to grab a towel and wrap his hand.

“Oh my God—are you okay?!

These glasses must be cheap and fragile.”

He pulled his hand away and stood abruptly.

“Finish your meal.

I’ll take care of myself.”

Mirna stared at him in confusion.

What was wrong with him?

She sighed and returned to clearing the table.

---

Masa sat in her room, trying to gather her thoughts.

Her lessons were evaporating from her mind as if she had never studied them.

She clutched her head with both hands and squeezed her eyes shut, trying to stop the information from slipping away.

It felt like an internal battle.

She couldn’t understand anything.

For half an hour, her eyes hadn’t left a single line.

She was stupid.

That kiss had made her stupid.

She threw the book away in anger, rebellion screaming inside her.

Qasim’s angry face still haunted her, his harsh words still stabbing her heart.

If he left, maybe she could regain her mental peace.

Return to how things were—before he returned.

The red light in her room flickered twice, then stopped.

She stared at the door.

The doorknob didn’t move.

The light didn’t turn on again.

She frowned.

Who was this polite visitor?

They weren’t even trying to disturb her.

Could it be her aunt?

She rushed to open the door—there was no one.

She stepped out and her foot hit a sealed cardboard box.

She picked it up, locked the door again, and returned to her bed.

No need to guess.

She would just open it and see who sent it.

She opened the box gently, her heart pounding like drums.

Inside—

a phone.

The phone Qasim had promised her.

She turned it on—it was fully ready for use.

She quickly checked the contacts.

Only one number was saved.

Qasim.

Why hadn’t he saved her parents’ numbers?

She needed the phone precisely to contact them.

She didn’t know how to use it well—Mirna would help her.

She set it aside and returned to the box.

Inside was a letter.

A letter from her mother.

She hugged it joyfully, jumping around the room.

Her mother had replied so quickly.

She threw herself onto the bed, turned on the bedside lamp, and took a deep breath before opening it calmly, eagerly.

---

**“My dearest daughter… my precious Masa…

I miss you terribly.

How I wish I were beside you in these moments.

My love, I want you to focus on your studies and achieve the highest grades.

I want you to surpass Qasim—you are my intelligent daughter.

I’ve always known you to be the most brilliant and outstanding.

Do not let anything disturb your peace or affect your studies.

Not even Qasim himself—do not allow him to succeed in discouraging you.

I want you strong.

Defend what you believe in, persevere, excel, and achieve your dream.

Do not think that I am far away.

I will always be close to you—never stop writing to me.

I will always be here to listen.

My love, take good care of yourself…

and take care of Qasim, and be patient with him for my sake.

With all my love,

Your mother,

Hanan.”**

---

Masa hugged the letter as tears flooded her eyes.

She had desperately needed to hear her mother’s voice—as she always would.

No one but her mother could calm her heart.

She hid the letter among her treasured belongings.

Her heart was calm now.

She understood the words between the lines.

But how had her beloved mother known that Qasim was affecting her negatively?

Perhaps her mother had sent the aunt to stay with her.

Happiness filled Masa’s heart.

She was not alone.

Her mother had not abandoned her.

She would achieve her dream—and her mother’s.

She would overcome Qasim.

---

Mirna came to her room later to find Masa studying seriously this time.

She poked her shoulder, frowning as she sat across from her.

“You’ve been here for four hours—aren’t you tired?”

Masa frowned and looked at the clock.

Yes.

Thankfully, she had regained her focus and clarity.

Her day had been full of turmoil—but it ended in peace, thanks to her mother’s letter.

She looked at Mirna, who had collapsed onto the bed, yawning.

“Are you going to sleep now?”

Mirna lifted her head sleepily.

“Of course, you i***t. It’s past midnight.

Let me sleep in your room tonight—I haven’t prepared mine.”

She dropped her head onto the pillow, hugging Masa’s spare pillow.

Masa sighed in defeat.

She was hungry—she wanted to eat.

She glanced at her friend, already snoring.

She screamed silently.

You ruined my dinner because of your stupid crush.

She decided to skip dinner and sleep—but her stomach refused to calm down, screaming for food all night.

Eventually, she gave in.

In the middle of the night, Masa sneaked into the kitchen in search of food.

The house was utterly silent—

even if the whole world were noisy, she wouldn’t have heard a thing.

She passed the closed office on tiptoe like a thief.

She didn’t turn on the lights, heading straight to the fridge—it was full of delicious food.

Not wanting to make noise or draw Qasim here, she decided to eat without reheating anything.

In the dim light of the fridge, she looked like a starving ghost.

She ate with pleasure, unaware she was being watched.

All she cared about was silencing her stomach.

Suddenly, the kitchen flooded with light.

Masa froze in place.

There was no need to turn around—

her racing heartbeat confirmed his identity.

…Damn it.