The morning sun streamed through the Demirsoy dining room, but warmth did not follow it. The air felt heavier than usual, thick with expectation, judgment, and the quiet rage of a family who refused to understand. Aylin sat at the table as if carved from stone. The silverware glinted in her mother’s hands, but she didn’t notice. She could hear the polite murmur of the servants, the clinking of plates, the faint rustle of silk, and yet nothing touched her anymore. Her mother’s words, soft and cold, cut through the quiet repeatedly. “It has to end, Aylin. Quietly. Abroad, if necessary. You know what is expected.” Aylin didn’t answer. She had nothing left to argue, nothing left to explain. Every explanation had been met with dismissal, every plea with silence or command. Love, pride, famil
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