Things are starting to improve
1732 Words
The girls were sitting by the wall outside the small garage where the truck was being prepared.
It was the first time they’d been allowed to just… sit without chains of fear around their necks.
No guards hovering.
No alarms.
Just the sun, the wind, and a strange kind of peace.
Judy had her boots propped up on her duffel bag, chewing a piece of gum she found gods-know-where. Aya sat beside her cross-legged, her crescent necklace glinting against her black hijab.
She let out a breath and leaned back against the wall, eyes closed.
“You know,” she said softly, “I don’t have any money.”
Judy blinked. “Huh?”
“Like… zero. Nada. I'm already bankrupt,” Aya said, opening one eye with a sly smile.
“I’m about to walk out of a mafia compound wearing stolen boots and hope.”
Judy stared at her, then snorted.
“That’s what you’re worried about? Money? Girl, we were almost turned into black market liver kabobs two weeks ago.”
Aya shrugged.
“True. But it’s still embarrassing. I left Algeria for a vacation and might go home with… trauma, criminal records, .
Judy laughed—really laughed. The kind that made her nose wrinkle.
“You forgot a star-shaped necklace and one i***t’s heart.”
Aya groaned and covered her face with her sleeve.
“Don’t remind me. Zain confessed like we were in a drama series and he only had five minutes of screen time left.”
“He meant it, though,” Judy said, smirking. “I think he even practiced in front of the mirror.”
Aya peeked through her fingers.
“I’m not sure if I should feel flattered or terrified.”
Judy stretched her arms.
“Well, when you become rich and famous, you can write a memoir. ‘How I Escaped the Mafia With Nothing But Faith, Sarcasm, and a Clingy Flirt.’”
Aya giggled.
“Sounds like a bestseller.”
They sat in silence again for a while, the wind brushing over their faces like a quiet goodbye.
Then Judy nudged her shoulder.
“We’ll figure it out, Aya. Money or not.”
Aya smiled.
“I know.”
“We’ve got each other.”
“And matching criminal records.”
“Exactly.”
They both laughed again — soft, real, healing.
For once, the world didn’t feel like a cage.
.............................
The truck rumbled to a stop on a quiet street in the heart of Istanbul just as the sun began to bleed orange across the sky.
Aya blinked at the light — it felt too bright.
Too free.
Too unreal.
Judy hopped out first, stretching like a cat and glancing around sharply like she was expecting someone to shout “back in the truck!” any second.
“You sure this is the place?” she asked the driver, who didn’t even look up from his phone.
“You’re out. That’s what matters,” he muttered, then drove off without another word.
Aya stood frozen for a moment.
Just the sound of birds, honking cars in the distance, and the buzz of the city around her.
No guards.
No screaming.
No Demir.
She slowly stepped onto the sidewalk. It felt like stepping into another universe.
Judy exhaled hard and clapped her hands together.
“Well… we’re free,” she said, her voice tight with a kind of nervous excitement.
Aya nodded, her eyes wide as she looked around.
Shops, people, street cats, fresh bread smells floating from a bakery nearby.
It was alive.
“What now?” Judy asked.
“I need to find a job,” Aya replied instantly. “I have no money, no home, no—"
“You have me,” Judy interrupted, grabbing Aya’s wrist. “And I have a place.”
Aya turned toward her, surprised.
“Wait… you're taking me with you?”
“Obviously,” Judy snorted. “You think I’d let you sleep on the street with that ‘lost tourist who might accidentally uncover another drug ring’ energy?”
Aya laughed, soft and warm.
“I thought you’d want your space.”
“I’ll give you my bed before I let you wander around alone.”
They started walking, blending into the sea of people.
Aya’s hand reached instinctively to the silver crescent necklace at her neck. Her fingers traced the smooth edge — a reminder that some people, even in the darkest places, still held light.
“I don’t know where I’m going,” she murmured.
Judy smiled and threw an arm over her shoulder.
“Neither do I.”
“That’s not comforting.”
“It’s not supposed to be. It’s honest.”
They turned a corner as the call to prayer rang out in the distance.
And just like that, their new chapter began.
No script.
No orders.
Just two girls, a city, and the world finally open before them.
After about an hour and a half
Judy unlocked the door to her apartment and stepped aside with a theatrical bow.
“Welcome to my castle,” she said with a crooked grin.
Aya stepped inside slowly. It was a small apartment, tucked into a quiet alley of Istanbul’s old neighborhoods — the kind of place where the walls were a little chipped, but the energy was warm. There was a worn couch, a tiny kitchen, books scattered across the table, and a large window that let in the golden sunset.
“It’s… perfect,” Aya whispered.
“It’s dusty, chaotic, and probably haunted,” Judy said, tossing her keys into a bowl. “But yeah. It’s home.”
Aya smiled, and something in her chest softened.
It was the first place in weeks that didn’t smell like fear.
After a quiet dinner of lentil soup, fresh bread, and tea Judy made with too much sugar, the girls cleared the table together. Then Judy handed Aya a folded prayer mat.
“Bathroom’s down the hall,” she said gently. “Take your time.”
Aya nodded and disappeared into the small room. The soft splash of water could be heard moments later as she made her ablution.
When she returned, the living room had been cleared. Judy had already laid out both mats facing the qibla, a gentle silence hanging in the air.
They stood side by side. Aya in her hijab, Judy beside her — two girls who had survived darkness, now bowing in front of the One who never abandoned them.
The moment was quiet.
Their foreheads touched the earth, and for the first time in so long… Aya felt safe.
Later that night, Aya curled up on a mattress Judy laid beside her own bed.
Judy was already wrapped in a thick blanket, only her eyes peeking out.
“Aya,” she whispered.
“Mm?”
“We’re out.”
“I know.”
“You’re not alone.”
“I know that too.”
A soft silence.
Then Judy added:
“I’m glad you came with me.”
Aya turned toward her and smiled in the dark.
“I didn’t have a choice. You kidn*pped me with soup and sarcasm.”
They both laughed quietly.
And for the first time in weeks…
They slept.
Not out of exhaustion.
But out of peace.
And elsewhere
The heavy door of the palace office creaked open.
Lara stepped inside — tall, calm, and composed, her long beige coat flowing behind her like quiet defiance. She didn’t look at Serkan directly, not yet. Her eyes scanned the room as if confirming that everything — and everyone — was where they should be.
He was already there, standing near the fireplace, his arms crossed, watching her .
“They’re free?” Lara asked.
Her voice was cold. Controlled.
It wasn’t the voice that used to whisper his name in the middle of the night.
Serkan gave a single nod.
“Aya. Judy. The rest. I kept my word.”
She inhaled slowly, nodding.
Then stepped closer.
“Good,” she whispered. “Now I’ll keep mine.”
He pulled out the chair across from him and gestured for her to sit.
She didn’t.
Instead, Lara walked toward the window, arms crossed tightly over her chest, eyes on the horizon.
“I’m not here to forgive you,” she said. “I’m here because those girls were not bargaining chips. And you knew I wouldn’t sleep until they were safe.”
“I didn’t hurt them.”
“No,” she said, turning slightly. “But you caged them. Just like you caged me.”
The silence between them tightened like a rope.
Serkan stepped forward slowly.
“Lara… I never stopped loving you.”
“You stopped respecting me,” she cut in sharply.
That shut him up.
She turned fully now, her dark eyes meeting his — calm but wounded.
“You think buying me flowers and letting a few girls go will undo the years I spent locked in your golden cage? You think I’m yours because you claim to love me?”
Serkan’s jaw clenched. He stepped closer, voice lower now.
“I didn’t know how to protect you without keeping you close.”
“That’s not protection,” Lara said. “That’s fear. Control. Obsession.”
“It’s love.”
“Then your love feels like prison.”
He said nothing.
And for the first time, she saw it — the smallest flicker of guilt behind his eyes.
She sighed, turning away again.
“You wanted to talk? Talk.”
“I want us back,” he said, voice suddenly softer. “The way we were.”
She almost laughed.
“You mean before you started giving orders to the world and forgot that I wasn’t one of your soldiers?”
Silence.
She turned her head.
“I’ll stay for a while. I’ll talk. I’ll listen. But I won’t promise anything, Serkan.”
“What do you want?” he asked. “Name it.”
She finally looked at him, eyes steady.
“I want my freedom. I want your honesty. And I want to be seen as a person.”
A long pause.
Then Serkan said, quietly:
“Then stay. And I’ll try.”
The wind rustled the curtains. Somewhere far away, .
Lara didn’t move.
But she didn’t leave either.
- Writer
