What happened?
1635 Words
The compound’s kitchen wasn’t supposed to feel like a battlefield—
But to Aya, it always did.
Long, polished steel counters.
Rows of trays.
Guards watching silently from the corners.
People dressed like shadows.
And in the middle of it all, sat Aya—
masked like a special forces operative, eyes sharp, posture tight
She glanced down at her lunch tray.
And frowned.
🍉 The Offending Fruit
There it was again.
The watermelon.
Perfectly sliced.
Cold. Juicy.
Placed delicately on the corner of her tray like a love letter in fruit form.
Aya poked it with her fork like it might explode.
“This is the third time this week,” she muttered.
Next to her, Judy sat cross-legged, also in full ninja gear — only her brown eyes visible, gleaming with mischief.
“What, are you allergic now?You like watermelon, don't you?”
“. But he’s trying to kill me.”
Judy choked on her tea.
“Excuse me?”
Aya leaned in closer, whispering like she was sharing state secrets.
“He’s fattening up my liver, Judy. This is a trap. First, the kindness. Then the kidney sale. You’ll see.”
Judy howled.
Even her mask couldn’t muffle it.
“Aya—! He’s not preparing you for black-market surgery!”
“Are you sure? He added extra lemon last time. That’s suspicious behavior.”
“No, that’s Turkish hospitality!”
Aya ticked off her mental list:
Added watermelon. Multiple times.
Assigned her fewer shifts in the infirmary — “rest days,” he called them.
Nodded at her once. With a tiny smile.
Didn’t glare when she dropped glass equipment.
“This man is losing his edge.”
“Or losing his mind.”
“Or worse… catching feelings.”
She shook her head.
“No. Impossible. He’s a mafia boss. They don’t get crushes. They get contracts.”
Judy wiped her tears of laughter.
“Have you seen how he looks at you?”
Aya blinked.
“Like he’s calculating how many dollars my lungs are worth?”
“No, dummy. Like he wants to marry you or murder you. Possibly both.”
Aya dropped her spoon.
“We need to escape immediately.”
Meanwhile, Across the Room…
Demir stood at the far end of the cafeteria, arms crossed, silently observing.
He wasn’t even pretending anymore.
He was watching her.
Not in control.
Not in command.
Just… confused.
She was laughing again.
With that loud one — Judy.
And her eyes sparkled above that hijabi-ninja mask like she wasn’t trapped in a mafia compound.
Like she wasn’t afraid.
Like he hadn’t won.
Demir’s assistant leaned over.
“Sir, do you want me to remove the fruit again?”
“No.”
“But she hasn’t touched it—”
“Just keep giving it to her.”
A pause.
“Sir… do you think she suspects something?”
Demir clenched his jaw.
“She suspects everything.”
That night, back in their room, Aya stared at the ceiling.
Judy was snoring.
Aya whispered into the dark:
“He gave me mango juice today.”
No answer.
“He’s changing tactics. This is psychological warfare .Does he want my kidneys or my liver?.”
Still silence.
Then Judy’s muffled voice from the blanket:
“It’s love, genius.”
Aya turned on her side, heart just slightly too fast.
“It better not be.”
But her mind was already replaying
that stupid smile he gave her
the way his eyes lingered
the fruit
the juice
the silence
the tension.
And for the first time…
She wasn’t sure what she was running from anymore.
after a day
The courtyard was quiet.
Evening shadows stretched long across the concrete, and the air smelled faintly of jasmine and gunpowder.
Aya sat beneath the old olive tree near the training grounds — her hijab wrapped neatly, her mask resting beside her on the bench, face slightly flushed from sparring with Judy.
She was sipping tea, enjoying a rare moment of silence…
Until it shattered like glass.
“Is this seat taken?”
The voice came with a smirk.
Smooth. Velvet and sun.
Zain.
He dropped onto the bench before she answered, one leg over the other, relaxed like a summer breeze.
Dressed in black, hair tousled perfectly like he didn’t try (but totally did), with eyes that smiled before his lips moved.
“I saw you fight earlier,” he said, leaning just close enough.
Aya sipped her tea.
“I wasn’t trying to impress anyone.”
“That’s the best part,” he grinned. “You impressed me anyway.”
She turned her head slowly.
“Do those lines usually work?”
“Usually,” Zain winked. “But not on girls in ninja masks. That’s new.”
Aya Holds Her Ground
She didn’t smile.
Didn’t frown.
Just studied him calmly — her posture graceful, her gaze confident,
“You're wasting your time,” she said simply.
“Maybe,” he chuckled, “but it’s a beautiful waste.”
She exhaled sharply — maybe a laugh, maybe a sigh.
“You’re used to girls falling for your grin?”
“No. I’m used to girls falling. Period. I just catch them with my charm.”
“Then drop me now,” she said. “I’m not looking to be caught.”
Meanwhile… Demir Watches
From the balcony above, behind a pane of dark glass — Demir stood frozen.
His jaw locked.
Fingers clenched.
Aya was laughing.
Not the loud kind. Not the wild kind.The last time she laughed in his face, it was a weird look like he was an alien.
But a soft, surprised, real laugh — the kind she never gave him.
Zain was too close.
Too smooth.
Too confident.
Demir’s voice was low.
“Remove him.”
His assistant blinked.
“Excuse me?”
“I said—”
“Sir, he’s just—”
“Now.”
A guard walked into the courtyard, clearing his throat loudly.
“Zain. Demir wants a word.”
Zain stood slowly.
Looked at Aya.
And smiled.
“Raincheck?”
Aya tilted her head.
“You’ll need an umbrella.”
He chuckled.
Then walked off — calm, unbothered — whistling as if he wanted Demir to be watching.
As Zain disappeared, Aya turned her gaze upward — to the darkened balcony she knew Demir was standing on.
She raised her teacup slightly.
sarcastic
Then turned back to her silence.
Her thoughts were loud:
Why did it bother him so much?
And why did she like that it did?
After a few minutes
The air in Demir’s private office was cold — not from the temperature, but from the silence.
Zain stepped inside like he owned the floor.
Relaxed.
Amused.
His eyes wandered, trailing over the leather chairs, the mahogany desk, the wall of silent monitors behind Demir’s back.
“Nice place,” Zain said casually. “Very... brooding mafia prince.”
Demir didn’t look up from the file he was reading.
Didn’t offer a chair.
Didn’t speak.
Zain smirked and leaned against the edge of the desk.
“You asked for me?”
Demir finally looked at him — slow, deliberate, a gaze sharp enough to cut through bone.
“Let’s talk about the girl.”
and now The Game Begins
Zain raised a brow.
“You’ll have to be more specific. This place is full of girls.”
“You know exactly which one I mean.”
Zain grinned.
“Ah. The nurse with the hijab and the attitude.”
Demir’s knuckles tightened on the desk.
“Aya.”
Zain blinked, then gave a slow, knowing smile.
“I didn't know she was such an important person..”
Demir stood — tall, broad, his presence suddenly suffocating.
“This isn’t a joke, Zain.”
“Then why does it feel like one?”
Demir took a step closer.
No shouting.
No yelling.
Just that quiet, deadly calm .
“You’ve flirted with spies. Teased diplomats. Mocked generals.”
“Flattered all of them, too.”
“But you will not—ever—try it with her again.”
Zain’s smile didn’t fade.
“Why?”
“Because she’s yours?”
Demir didn’t blink.
“Because she is not yours.”
Zain straightened, letting the silence stretch between them.
“You know what’s funny?” he said softly. “You love someone, this is very surprising.
“I still might,” Demir replied, voice calm. “But I’m giving you one chance.”
“Because you respect me?”
“Because she’s watching. And I don’t want blood on her shoes.”
That silenced Zain for a moment.
Then he chuckled darkly.
“You think you’re protecting her?”
“No.”
“You think she needs you?”
“No.”
“Then what is this?”
Demir leaned in, voice like steel wrapped in silk:
“This… is war. You just haven’t realized yet that you already lost.”
Zain pushed off the desk, walking to the door, unbothered.
But just as he reached for the handle, Demir spoke again:
“She smiles around you.”
Zain froze.
“But she looks for me.”
Zain turned halfway.
“We’ll see about that.”
“We already have,” Demir said, voice low. “You’re the noise. I’m the silence she remembers at night.”
And just like that—Zain left.
But this time…
the smile on his face had cracked.
Demir stood alone, watching the closed door.
His reflection stared back at him in the glass behind the monitors.
Cold. Sharp. Dangerous.
But inside?
He was burning.
And for the first time… he didn’t know if he was the one winning this game—
or losing it with every heartbeat.
- Writer
