Staying
522 Words
Kerem returned an hour later. He had bags in his hands. Set them on the counter. Started putting things away.
Selin watched from the couch. Didn’t offer to help. Just watched.
“You okay?” Kerem asked without looking at her.
“Yeah.”
“You don’t seem okay.”
Selin didn’t respond. Kerem finished with the groceries. Came to sit across from her.
“Talk to me,” he said.
“About what?”
“About whatever’s making you look at empty corners like something’s there.”
Selin’s breath caught. “I’m not—”
“You are. You’ve been doing it all morning.”
The truth sat between them, heavy and undeniable.
“I thought it was over,” Selin said quietly. “I thought I was done with… all of it.”
“Maybe you are. Maybe this is just echo. Muscle memory.”
“Or maybe it’s not over. Maybe it’ll never be over.”
Kerem leaned forward. “Do you want it to be over?”
This was the question, wasn’t it? The real question underlying everything.
“I don’t know,” Selin admitted. “Part of me does. Part of me is terrified of what ‘over’ means. If he’s truly gone, what does that say about me? That I chose to believe in something impossible? That I wasted a year of my life on a delusion?”
“Or,” Kerem said gently, “it says you loved someone so much that losing them broke your brain’s ability to accept it. That’s not weakness. That’s proof of how deeply you felt.”
Selin felt tears building. “But at what cost? I lost friends. Worried my family. Almost got institutionalized. All for… what? A ghost that might have just been grief?”
“But it felt real to you. That matters.”
“Does it? Or does it just make me crazy?”
Kerem was quiet for a moment. Then: “I don’t think you’re crazy. I think you’re someone who experienced something outside normal parameters and your brain tried to make sense of it the only way it could. That doesn’t make you crazy. It makes you human.”
“I’m tired, Kerem. So tired of not knowing what’s real.”
“Then let’s make something real. Right now. You and me. This conversation. This moment. Let’s start there.”
Selin looked at him—really looked at him. Saw the patience there, the genuine care, the willingness to sit with her in her uncertainty without trying to fix her.
“Why are you so good to me?” she asked.
“Because I care about you. And because you deserve goodness even when you can’t see it yourself.”
Something in Selin’s chest loosened. Not completely, but enough to breathe a bit easier.
“Stay,” she said. It wasn’t a request. It was a plea. “Even when I’m difficult. Even when I look at corners for things that aren’t there. Just… stay.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Kerem promised.
And for the first time that day, Selin believed him.
- Writer
