A Distant ‘Get Well Soon’
596 Words
The next morning, Selin woke to find a gift basket outside her door. Expensive chocolates, imported wine, and a card: “Get well soon. —K”
She stared at it for a long moment before bringing it inside.
“Get well soon?” Murat’s voice came from the living room. “As if you’re sick?”
“He means well.”
“He means he thinks you’re broken. That you need fixing. There’s a difference.”
Selin set the basket on the counter. “Maybe I am a little broken.”
“We all are. That’s called being human. Or in my case, post-human.”
Despite herself, she smiled. “Post-human. Is that what we’re calling it now?”
“Would you prefer ‘differently alive’?”
“I’d prefer if we didn’t have to call it anything.”
She picked up her phone and typed: Thank you for the gift. But I’m not sick, Kerem. I’m exactly where I need to be.
She hesitated over the send button.
“Send it,” Murat said. “He needs to understand.”
“It might hurt his feelings.”
“Better hurt feelings than false hope.”
She pressed send.
Almost immediately, her phone rang. Kerem.
“Don’t answer,” Murat said.
But she did. Because that was the difference between them—Murat could afford to be single-minded in his devotion. Selin had to exist in the real world, with real people, who had real feelings.
“Hey,” she said.
“Selin, I’m sorry. The basket was tone-deaf. I just… I worry about you.”
“I know. But Kerem, I need you to stop worrying. I’m okay. Really.”
“Are you? Because last night—”
“Last night I was honest. Maybe too honest. But everything I said was true. I’m not on a journey away from Murat. If anything, I’m on a journey deeper into what we had. What we still have.”
Silence on the other end. Then: “Selin, he’s gone.”
“To you, maybe. Not to me.”
“That’s… that’s not healthy.”
“Maybe not. But it’s true. And I’d rather live in my truth than in someone else’s version of healthy.”
More silence. Longer this time.
“Okay,” Kerem finally said. “I can’t pretend to understand. But I respect it. And I’m here if you need me. As a friend. Just a friend.”
“Thank you.”
After she hung up, Murat appeared beside her. “That was hard.”
“Yes.”
“But necessary.”
“Yes.”
“I’m proud of you.”
She turned to where she felt him. “Are you? Because sometimes I wonder if I’m just being stubborn. Holding onto something because I can’t face letting go.”
“Do you want to let go?”
“No.”
“Then you’re not being stubborn. You’re being loyal. There’s a difference.”
“Is there? Because from the outside, it probably looks the same.”
“The outside doesn’t matter, Selin. Only what’s true between us.”
“And what is true between us?”
“That I’m here. That you’re here. That somehow, against all logic and reason, we’re still choosing each other. That’s enough truth for me.”
She wanted to reach for him, to hold him, to feel solid flesh instead of cool air. But she settled for what she had—the presence, the voice, the certainty that he was there.
“For me too,” she whispered.
- Writer
