GHOST LOVER

Selin stared at her reflection in the mirror, a childlike smile spreading across her face. Today marked one of the most important turning points in her life—the final preparations for her engagement ceremony. The dress she wore was exactly as she’d imagined: elegant yet bold. “Girls, this is really happening, isn’t it?” Selin said, her hands trembling with excitement as she adjusted her hair. “Sometimes it feels like a dream. Murat and I waited so long for this moment… You know, when we first met, he told me ‘One day, I’ll give you the most beautiful evening of your life.’ And now, here we are.” Melis approached from behind, placing her hands on Selin’s shoulders. She smiled at their reflection in the mirror. “You deserve this happiness, Selin. You and Murat are one of those couples we all envy.” Selin took a deep breath. “I love him so much, Melis. It’s the kind of love that makes breathing difficult without him. When he looks at me, the whole world disappears. I know it sounds cliché, but that’s exactly how it feels.” In the adjacent room, conversations and laughter continued. Pelin was meticulously arranging the bouquets, while Naz handled the guest list. Everything was perfect. Everything was in its place. Even the weather seemed to be on their side—a cloudless evening bathed in golden September light. But life, as it often does, was preparing to shatter this perfection at its most fragile point. The phone rang. It was a number Selin didn’t recognize. She answered, thinking it might be about the venue. The voice on the other end belonged to a woman—cold, professional, devoid of emotion. “Ms. Selin Demir?” “Yes, speaking.” “This is Şişli Etfal Hospital. There’s been an accident. Mr. Murat Arslan… I’m very sorry, but he didn’t survive. He passed away at the scene.” Time froze. The mirror in front of Selin, the laughter echoing from the next room, the golden light streaming through the window—everything became a still photograph. The phone slipped from her hand and clattered to the floor. “Selin?” Melis called. “What happened?” But Selin didn’t respond. She couldn’t. Her lips moved, but no sound came out. Finally, barely audible, she whispered: “There must be a mistake. We haven’t even exchanged our rings yet. You must be joking, right? This… This can’t be true. Murat wouldn’t leave me. He promised.” Everyone in the room stared at Selin in horror as she placed the phone on the table. The crystal champagne glass slipped from her fingers and fell to the floor. The sharp sound of shattering glass was the only real thing in the room. Selin didn’t collapse. She didn’t cry. She didn’t scream. She simply stood there, like the center of the world where everything revolved around her, yet she remained motionless. Melis rushed to her side, calling her name. Pelin brought water with trembling hands. Someone grabbed a phone. Someone else ran to the door. But Selin saw none of it. In her mind, there was only one voice. Murat’s voice. Last week, sitting across from her on that very couch, looking at her. “Only I can weather your storms,” he’d said. That was a promise. A promise was something you couldn’t take back. A promise couldn’t be broken. But death didn’t listen to promises. This idea crystallized in Selin’s mind at that moment—clear, cold, and dangerously fragile: Death was a mistake. Murat’s heart had stopped, but this was temporary. Because Murat had made a promise. And a promise made by Murat was stronger than death itself. The glass shards lay scattered across the parquet floor. Selin looked at them. Those small, sharp, scattered pieces… They were all fragments of a whole. And wholes could be put back together. They had to be.