Chapter 15:Sisters Before Anything Else
799 Words
Nihan had known Aylin Long before the Demirsoy name carried weight for her
Before boardrooms replaced playgrounds.
Before love became something to negotiate instead of something to feel.
They had grown up on the same carpets, whispering secrets under blankets, inventing futures where they would be free and fearless and nothing would ever touch them. Back then, loyalty was simple. It meant choosing each other in small ways sharing the last piece of chocolate, covering for missed curfews, pretending not to hear tears through the wall.
Now loyalty was heavier. It carried consequences.
Nihan knew everything.
About Emre.
About the scholarship.
About the money.
About the distance disguised as patience.
And she had told no one.
Not Murat.
Not their parents.
Not even when the silence in the house began to feel like a question no one dared to ask.
Some secrets were not hers to tell.
Some lives were not hers to manage.
---
Murat noticed first.
Not because Aylin acted differently she never did but because she acted too carefully.
One evening, he found Nihan in the library, pretending to read while actually watching the garden through the window.
“She’s not the same,” he said quietly.
Nihan closed the book. “People grow.”
Murat shook his head. “No. She’s… distant. Like someone standing in a room but already halfway gone.”
Nihan’s heart tightened. “You’re her brother. You worry too much.”
“I’m supposed to worry,” he replied. “That’s my job.”
He hesitated, then added, more softly,
“What if she’s in love with someone else?”
Nihan looked at him carefully. “Would that be a crime?”
“For us?” Murat said. “No. But for her? It depends on who.”
Silence stretched between them.
“Kerem isn’t pushing,” Murat continued. “He’s respectful. Patient. Everything our parents admire.”
“That’s exactly why it’s dangerous,” Nihan replied. “Men like that don’t chase. They wait until you convince yourself.”
Murat frowned. “And Baran?”
Nihan sighed. “Baran wants her. Kerem understands her. There’s a difference.”
Murat leaned back in his chair. “Then talk to her. Please. As a sister. Not as my wife. Just… remind her she’s not alone in this family.”
Nihan nodded slowly. “I will.”
Not because Murat asked.
But because she was already afraid of what Aylin was choosing alone.
---
The name surfaced again at dinner.
“Kerem Alkan is expanding his holdings,” their father remarked casually. “Impressive for his age.”
Aylin’s mother, Sema, looked thoughtful. “He seemed… observant at the wedding. Not arrogant.”
Aylin continued eating, her expression unchanged.
Sema studied her daughter carefully the way only mothers could, noticing the smallest shifts in posture, in breath, in silence.
“She’s tired,” Sema said gently. “You all speak of futures like they’re contracts. Let her breathe.”
Aylin finally looked up. “I’m fine, mama.”
Sema smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes.
Mothers always knew when “fine” meant guarded.
---
That night, Nihan went to Aylin’s room.
No knocking. No announcement. Just like when they were girls.
Aylin sat by the window, phone in her hand, the city lights reflecting in her eyes.
“Do they know?” Nihan asked quietly.
Aylin didn’t pretend not to understand. “Not yet.”
Nihan sat beside her on the bed. “Murat is worried. He asked me to talk to you. As your sister.”
Aylin smiled faintly. “You are my sister.”
“What if you look again at your choices?” Nihan asked softly. “Not for them. Just for yourself.”
Aylin didn’t panic. Didn’t raise her voice. Didn’t defend.
“I’m not changing my life,” she said calmly. “I’m building it.”
Nihan took her hand. “With someone we’ve never met?”
“With someone who sees me when no one else does,” Aylin replied.
Nihan searched her face. “And what about Kerem?”
Aylin exhaled slowly. “Kerem is… possibility. Emre is reality.”
“Sometimes reality is just habit,” Nihan whispered.
Aylin squeezed her fingers gently. “And sometimes possibility is just distraction.”
Nihan smiled sadly. “You always sound so certain when you’re about to break your own heart.”
Aylin leaned her head against her shoulder. “That’s why I need you. To remind me I’m human.”
Nihan kissed her hair. “That’s what sisters do.”
---
Across the hall, Sema stood in her doorway, watching the two girls through the half-open door.
She didn’t interrupt.
She simply whispered to herself,
“Please, God… let her not be strong alone.”
- Writer
