Kerem’s Night
368 Words
That night, Kerem couldn’t sleep. He stood on his balcony, looking out at Istanbul’s lights, thinking about the woman asleep in his apartment.
Selin had come so far. From the broken, haunted person who’d shown up at his door months ago to someone who was genuinely healing. He was proud of her.
But he was also aware of his own position in this. He wasn’t Murat. Would never be Murat. And he was okay with that. Because he didn’t want to be Murat—the man who’d loved Selin but also betrayed her, who’d died and somehow returned but couldn’t let her live.
Kerem wanted to be himself. The man who stayed when things got hard. The man who loved Selin enough to let her heal at her own pace. The man who didn’t need to be her everything, just her something.
“You’re thinking too loud,” Selin’s voice came from behind him.
He turned. She was wrapped in a blanket, hair messy from sleep. “Sorry. Did I wake you?”
“No. The couch isn’t as comfortable as I remembered.” She joined him at the railing. “What are you thinking about?”
“You. Us. Whether I’m doing this right.”
“There’s no ‘right’ way to do this. We’re making it up as we go.”
“And that doesn’t scare you?”
“Everything scares me. But less when you’re here.”
They stood in comfortable silence, watching the city sleep. Then Selin said: “I’m falling for you. Slowly, carefully, but falling. And it terrifies me because I don’t know if I’m ready. But I also don’t want to wait until I’m ‘ready’ because maybe that day never comes. So I’m just… falling. And hoping you’ll catch me.”
Kerem took her hand. “I’ll catch you. I promise.”
“Don’t promise. Just be here. That’s all I need.”
“I can do that.”
They went back inside. Curled up on the couch together. And as Selin drifted off to sleep, Kerem thought: this is what love should be. Not dramatic, not all-consuming, not desperate. Just steady. Present. Real.
And that was more than enough.
- Writer
