The door shut behind her with a final, muffled thud.
Zeynep didn't stop until she reached the far corner of the cabin, the part where the light didn't reach and the walls felt just a little closer. Only then did her knees give out, folding her down onto the floor like her body had remembered it was made of pieces shattered ones at that.
Tears fell soundlessly.
There were no sobs. There were no loud wails. Just the kind of crying that occurs when you have been holding too much for too long. Salty tears streamed down cheeks that had forgotten softness. Shoulders that hardly trembled because even pain had learned to remain silent in her world.
The palm of her hand was pushed over her mouth, and it appeared as though she was attempting to prevent the pieces of herself from escaping. The room was deafeningly silent. It was only the slight buzz of wind through the wooden bones of the cottage that served as a reminder to her that she was still alive. Still breathing. Still not safe.
However, despite her efforts to wipe her face with her sleeve, the tears continued to fall. That was something that she hated. Hated it for being weak. The mess. The weakness.
But most of all…
She hated that she didn't know what had cracked her open more, his questions… or the way he'd asked them.
Zayden.
She'd lied to herself, thinking she didn't care who he was. She did not need to hear his story. That she would not allow herself to fall apart for a guy who had war in his eyes and quiet for a soul.
But the moment he said her name like it meant anything, as if it hadn't been buried beneath years of escaping, hiding, and forgetting, something inside her shifted.
Zeynep Koral.
She almost didn't recognize herself when she said it out loud.
Almost forgot what it felt like to be seen.
And that scared her more than the men chasing her ever could.
She curled into herself, arms wrapped tight across her chest as if to keep the world out. Memories clawed their way to the surface, uninvited.
Gunshots in the darkness of night.
A door was kicked open.
Hands were not gentle.
A scream was followed by quiet.
Her breath hitched again, but this time she bit it back, pushing the terror deep down where it belonged. This was not the moment. She couldn't fall apart just now. Not while she was so close to disappearing again.
But Zayden's voice lingered in her head.
"Did they hurt you?"
Not what happened. Not what you did.
Just... did they hurt you?
And something about the way he'd said it, quiet, deliberate, as if pain was a language he understood, made her chest ache.
He was dangerous. She knew that.
But danger didn't always come with knives and fists.
Sometimes it came in the form of unexpected kindness.
And that… was harder to walk away from.
She pulled her knees to her chest, resting her forehead against them. Breathing slowly. In. Out. In again.
She needed to think.
She needed to run.
She needed to stay.
She didn't know anymore.
All she knew was that this man she'd barely met had somehow seen through the armor she'd spent years building. And it terrified her more than the past she'd been running from.
Zeynep wiped her eyes with the back of her palm, her breathing still irregular but more steady. She pushed herself up from the floor, her muscles tense with the weight of silence. Her knees complained. Her heart did, too. But she couldn't stay in the shadows any longer.
She reached the door slowly, the planks beneath her bare feet squeaking in protest. Her palm grabbed the knob, which felt chilly against her heated skin. She hesitated, fingers lingering there, bracing herself for the cold air outside and the questions she didn't want to face.
But as soon as she turned it
A second hand landed on the knob from the other side.
Her breath caught.
So did his.
For one charged second, neither moved.
Neither spoke.
The door remained closed between them, but their hands were now inches away, separated only by the thickness of the door and the weight of everything whispered. Her pulse quickened fast. She knew it was him. She could feel the heat from his palm through the metal. The consistency of his grasp. Without hesitation.
Just like him.
Zayden.
He hadn't followed her when she fled, but now, he was here. Reaching for the same door. At the same time.
She froze, torn between yanking it open or stepping back into the shadows. But then, slowly, almost cautiously, the door creaked open a few inches. Enough for light to pour in. Enough for breath to mingle.
And then she saw him.
His eyes met hers, sharp, storm-dark, and unreadable. There was something there behind them, though. A flicker. Like he wasn't sure if he should speak or step back. Like he wasn't used to moments like this either.
Neither of them moved.
Zeynep straightened her spine, but her eyes betrayed her. Red-rimmed. Wet. Raw.
He noticed. Of course he did. His gaze dropped to her trembling fingers still clutched around the knob, then back to her face.
"I was coming to check if you were"
"I was just going out."
They both spoke at once, voices overlapping, cutting off. The silence that followed was thick with tension.
Zeynep swallowed hard, forcing her expression back into something neutral, something that didn't look like she'd been falling apart just minutes ago.
But Zayden didn't push. He didn't ask questions.
He just tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing the way someone might when trying to read a language they don't speak but feel in their bones.
"You don't have to explain," he said finally. Voice low. Steady. Too steady.
She hated how that steadiness made her want to crumble again.
"I wasn't going to," she replied, sharper than intended.
He didn't flinch. But he didn't back away either.
Zeynep moved to step past him, needing distance. Air. Space to breathe without him looking at her like that. Like he could see past everything she didn't say.
But his hand was still on the door. Still on her side. Not stopping her. Not holding her. Just... there.
They were standing too close now. The tension between them was not loud or frenzied; rather, it was a quiet, magnetic hum. Something that brought the worst and finest in them to the center. Neither is touching. But each nerve ending is alive with awareness.
"If you keep looking at me like that," she muttered, her voice almost lost in the space between them, "I might start thinking you actually care."
His jaw tensed.
And then, quietly honestly, he said,
"I don't know what this is, Zeynep. But I'd be a liar if I said I didn't feel it."
Her eyes snapped to his. Wide. Unsteady.
Something flared in the space between them.
And then, without another word, she stepped past him, shoulders brushing. Close enough to feel his warmth. Close enough to feel him tense.
He didn't stop her.
But he turned slowly, watching her go.
And even though neither of them said it aloud, the question still burned between them.
What are we walking away from?
And what if it's already too late?
At the very moment… in the Forest
The wilderness was calm save for the rustle of leaves caused by a light breeze. Sunlight trickled down through the canopy in scattered golden beams, spreading delicate halos across the mossy ground. Birds chirped peacefully in the distance, ignorant of the fury brewing inside her.
Zeynep walked aimlessly, her boots pushing into damp dirt as she weaved past tall trees that all looked the same. The air was crisp but not chilly, with a whiff of pine and fresh mud. It was peaceful. Too calm for the chaos that grew in her chest.
She stood beside a crooked birch tree, its bark pale and flaking like crumpled paper. Her forehead leaned on it as she closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
The lighting was shifting. Not fading, but intensifying like it does immediately before noon. Shadows became thinner and brighter. Nonetheless, it did little to help relieve her unease.
"I should go back," she whispered to herself, breaking the silence.
She turned, retracing what she thought was the same path.
But nothing looked familiar.
A knot twisted in her stomach. She spun slowly, scanning the trees. Her breathing hitched.
The forest had swallowed the trail completely.
I didn't go that far. I couldn't have...
But every direction looked the same now: endless trunks, dappled sunlight, and the quiet hum of nature.
Panic crawled up her spine.
She turned left, then backtracked. Took a right. Nothing. Her hands trembled. Her heart started racing, her breath turning shallow.
Then
She heard it.
A quiet crunch behind her. The distinctive clanking noise of a footfall.
Zeynep froze.
A shiver slid across her skin despite the sun above.
Slowly, she turned around...
And when she saw what was behind her,
She was shocked.