Things are mixed up
1642 Words
The room was quiet, too quiet — except for the crackle of fire behind Serkan.
Lara stood near the far end, her arms wrapped around her waist as if shielding herself from him… or from her own thoughts.
Serkan took a slow step forward.
“You said you’d talk to me,” he began, voice low. “I kept my promise, Lara. The girls are free. Why does it still feel like you’re miles away?”
Lara’s laugh was bitter and short.
“Because I am.”
He frowned.
“But you're here.”
“Physically,” she replied. “Not where it matters.”
She turned to face him now — sharp, elegant, like a storm that refused to bow.
“You think love is a lock and I’m the key you keep in your pocket. You think if you say the right words, I’ll melt back into your arms.”
“It’s not like that—” he started.
“Isn’t it?” she cut in. “You gave me diamonds but took away my voice. You built me a palace, Serkan, and then shut every door inside it.”
He ran a hand through his hair, stepping closer, frustration flashing in his eyes.
“I did it to protect you.”
“Stop saying that!” she snapped. “Protection isn’t supposed to feel like a prison.”
They stood inches apart now. The fire behind him cast shadows across his face — shadows that used to make her feel safe, but now only made her question everything.
“You miss me,” he said suddenly, almost in a whisper.
Lara flinched.
“Don’t.”
“I see it in your eyes,” he continued, voice softer now. “When you walk into a room and look everywhere but at me. When you freeze if my hand brushes yours. You still feel it. You just don’t want to.”
“What I feel,” she said slowly, “is betrayal.”
His jaw clenched.
“Then let me fix it.”
“You can’t fix what you broke with roses and apologies.”
He stared at her, eyes dark.
“You still wear the necklace I gave you.”
She touched her throat instinctively, then dropped her hand.
“Not because of you. Because I loved who I was when you gave it to me.”
A pause. Her voice lowered.
“She’s gone now.”
Serkan stepped forward. Close enough to touch.
But didn’t.
“She’s still here,” he said. “I see her when you speak. When you fight. When you protect others. She's just... guarding her heart.”
“And maybe she should,” Lara murmured.
The air between them was thick with the scent of longing and unsaid words.
He looked at her then — really looked at her.
“I don’t want a version of you, Lara. I want all of you. Even if she hates me.”
She turned away slightly, blinking away something heavy.
“You don’t know what to do with all of me, Serkan. You never did.”
He took a risk and reached for her hand, barely grazing her fingers.
She let him… for just a second.
Then gently pulled away.
“This time,” she said softly, “if I stay, it’s because I choose to. Not because you made me.”
“Then choose me,” he whispered.
Her eyes locked with his.
“I’ll think about it.”
And with that, she walked past him — her scent lingering, her footsteps light, but her decision weighing heavier than anything he’d faced on the battlefield.
elsewhere
The morning light spilled through the curtains of Judy’s apartment like a silent intruder. Aya was curled under a blanket, her breath steady, while Judy sat hunched at the edge of the bed, staring at her phone.
One unread message.
From her old manager.
She opened it, eyes still half-closed.
“You’re officially terminated, Judy. You disappeared without notice for months. We’ve moved on. Please don’t contact us again.”
The words hit like a slap.
Short. Cold. Final.
She sighed — deep and quiet — and put the phone down.
“Well, that’s that.”
Aya stirred on the mattress.
“What happened?”
Judy forced a smile.
“Got dumped. By my boss.”
“You had a job?”
“Had,” Judy replied. “Keyword: past tense. Apparently, vanishing without a trace doesn’t go well with the corporate world.”
Aya sat up, hair messy, eyes still soft with sleep.
“I’m sorry…”
“Don’t be. I was gonna quit anyway. I hated the uniforms.”
They both laughed a little, but the silence that followed wasn’t as light.
Judy stood and stretched, grabbing her jacket.
“Come on,” she said. “Let’s go be poor together.”
Aya blinked.
“What?”
“We’re job hunting. And if we’re going to suffer, we’re doing it as a team.”
Aya smiled faintly and pulled her hijab over her hair, adjusting it neatly in the mirror.
“Do we even know where to start?”
“Nope,” Judy said, tossing her a scarf. “But we’ve got legs, charm, and hunger.”
“Literal hunger or…?”
“Both,” Judy grinned. “Let’s go convince someone that we’re responsible adults.”
The streets of Istanbul were buzzing by mid-morning — shopkeepers opening shutters, students rushing with backpacks, tourists wandering with maps and camera bags.
Aya walked beside Judy, eyes wide at the rhythm of the city.
They stopped by cafés, peeked into boutiques, asked at stores and markets. Most smiled kindly. A few said maybe. Some laughed.
“We’re going to end up selling watermelon on a cart, aren’t we?” Judy muttered.
“I like watermelon,” Aya replied innocently.
They both laughed — not because things were easy, but because laughter was the only choice left.
Eventually, they sat on the steps near a quiet alley, drinking cheap coffee in plastic cups.
“We’ll find something,” Aya said, gently. “We always do.”
Judy looked at her for a moment — her calm, her quiet strength.
“I don’t know how you’re not freaking out right now.”
“Because we’re free,” Aya replied. “Everything else… we’ll figure it out.”
And in that moment, with coffee in hand and nothing to their names, they both smiled.
after 2 hour
The small restaurant was tucked behind a narrow alley lined with blooming geraniums and faded umbrellas. Aya followed Judy inside, her heart pounding slightly. The wooden sign above the door read in cursive: Café Melek.
A warm breeze greeted them, along with the scent of spices and roasted vegetables. It felt like home.
Behind the counter, a middle-aged man — and then his eyes widened.
“Jude?” he said, stunned. “Is that you?”
“Kemal!” Judy grinned. “Still burning garlic like it’s incense, I see.”
He laughed, walked around the counter, and hugged her tightly.
“I thought you were dead,” he said into her hair.
“Almost,” she replied, and then pulled away. “But I’ve got a favor to ask.”
Aya watched, confused, as Judy introduced her.
“This is my friend, Aya. She’s smart, polite, and doesn’t break dishes — I think. You need help, right?”
Kemal looked Aya up and down thoughtfully, then nodded slowly.
“We need a waitress. The lunch crowd’s a monster.”
“She’s tougher than she looks,” Judy said, nudging Aya.
Aya blinked.
“I—um… I’ve never done this before.”
Kemal smiled kindly.
“That makes two of us, the day I opened this place.”
And just like that — Aya had a job.
After the quick tour and an awkward apron fitting, the girls sat at a table in the corner, sipping tea.
“I still can’t believe you knew the owner,” Aya said, looking around. “And I really can’t believe I just got hired.”
“You’re charming. That hijab makes you look extra responsible,” Judy winked.
Aya narrowed her eyes suspiciously.
“And what about you? Can we find you a job??”
Judy shrugged.
“I have one.”
Aya frowned. “Since when?Didn't you say that your manager fired you in the morning?”
“No, this is another job I've been doing for years.,” Judy said, smirking.
Aya leaned in. “What kind of job?”
Judy looked out the window for a moment, as if weighing her answer.
Then, with a nonchalant shrug:
“I used to race cars.”
Aya nearly choked on her tea.
“You WHAT?”
“Illegal races. Back in the day.”
“You?!”
“Don’t look so shocked,” Judy grinned. “I’m not all sarcasm and caffeine, you know. I’ve outrun cops. Jumped rooftops in my ‘98 Skyline. Once won a race while eating sunflower seeds.”
Aya stared at her like she’d grown wings.
“That’s… actually insane.”
“I know,” Judy said proudly.
“Are you still doing it?”
“Not recently.Even a car I sold. I took a break. Too much heat. Too many cameras. But who knows... might get the itch again.”
Aya laughed, shaking her head.
“Remind me never to get in a car with you.”
Judy smirked.
“Remind me to never let you serve tea again. You almost drowned yourself.”
They laughed together, the kind of laughter that mended invisible wounds.
For the first time, Aya felt like the world was starting to open for them.
Jobs. Secrets. Tea and illegal races.
The beginning of something wild.
- Writer
