Disco Ball and Salt Circle
451 Words
Disco Ball and Salt Circle
The next day, Selin did something unexpected: she invited people over. Not for an intervention or a therapy session, but for a party. A small gathering with Melis, Pelin, and a few other friends. Normal people doing normal things.
“What are you doing?” Murat asked as Selin cleaned the apartment, removing all traces of their unconventional existence.
“Proving a point. To them, to me, maybe to you. That I can be normal when I need to be.”
“By throwing a party?”
“By being the old Selin. The one who laughed and danced and didn’t spend all her time talking to ghosts.”
It was a test, though Selin wasn’t sure who she was testing—herself, Murat, or the universe itself.
When the friends arrived, they were cautiously optimistic. They’d heard about the medication, the therapy, the progress. This party felt like a return to life.
Music played. Wine flowed. Conversation bubbled. And for a while, Selin almost felt normal. Almost felt like the person she used to be before death and ghosts and impossible choices.
Murat stayed in the bedroom, giving her space as he’d promised. But Selin felt his absence keenly, a cool spot in an otherwise warm evening.
“You seem good,” Melis said during a quiet moment. “Really good.”
“I’m trying,” Selin said honestly. “Some days are easier than others.”
“And Murat?”
Selin tensed. “What about him?”
“Are you… letting him go? Finally?”
“I’m working on it,” Selin lied. Because that’s what you said to worried friends. That’s the price of appearing sane.
Later, as people danced in her living room, Selin slipped into the bedroom where Murat waited.
“How’s the party?” he asked.
“Exhausting. I forgot how tiring it is to be normal.”
“You don’t have to pretend for me.”
“I know. That’s why I’m here. I needed a break from pretending.”
They sat together in the quiet darkness while music and laughter echoed from the other room. Two worlds existing simultaneously—one living, one not, one possible, one impossible.
“Do you want to go back out there?” Murat asked.
“In a minute. Right now, I just want to be here. With you. In the only place I don’t have to lie.”
And so they stayed, two souls in a dark room, while life carried on without them just a door away. It wasn’t sustainable. It probably wasn’t even sane. But it was real—at least to them.
And sometimes, that had to be enough.
- Writer
