One Step Closer

1. Daddy is cool

"Baby...." He whispered and no, he wasn't saying that to his girlfriend laying on bed next to him, he was saying it to his little girl, his daughter who decided to throw the pancakes on the floor just as he turned towards the stove to check on his already burnt toasts.

The syrup in her hair, hands all sticky, someone constantly ringing the door bell, pancakes on the floor and a dad standing in the kitchen with a spatula in his hand and was about to freak out at any minute because of not knowing what he is doing but.... daddy is cool so he will figure it out...... that's clearly what Ihsan and Ilhan both thought.

"Ilhan..... check the door." He said from the stove as he tried to save his burnt toasts. He knew he gotta eat those, no matter what. The bell kept ringing. "Ilhan, I said..." Turning back, he did found his daughter sitting on her baby chair but maybe giving that command to a eighteen months old wasn't a very vice choice. She was staring right at him, questioning him and he was doing the same. Questioning himself. "Obviously..... I have to get the door." He muttered as he played with the knots of the apron but decided to kept it on when it didn't came off.

He took a look from the door lens to get to know about who was up to challenge his introvert self so early in the morning. He had his rules. If it's any neighbor, he will ignore. If it's some relative, he will ignore. If it's some mail guy, he will ignore so that he leaves it all on the door. He pay from credit card, no cash on delivery so no big deal.

In short, Ihsan's second name is Introvert, 'please avoid any and every social interaction' is his slogan, please don't vote for him for the President because as much as he avoids people, Mr President can't relate.

"It's your grandparents Ilhan, don't tell them I talk with you.... they'll be jealous because I don't talk to them that much." Giving his barely even listening or looking at him daughter a wink from the door, he opened it wide to let the chaos....... his parents enter.

"You are 36 years old and your parents still run your grocery Ihsan!" Ihsan's mother aka Ilhan's momo shoved the huge packet right into his chest as she stepped in and his father just patted his cheek like a seven year old to which Ihsan cringed.

"Oh. My. God!" Ihsan heard her say as soon as she entered the living room. "I expected worse if you ask me." His dad answered, looking impressed by the fact that the house was still standing and Ihsan haven't burned it down into ashes.

"I'll clean this up and..... umm Ilhan too." He said looking at all the sauce smudged around her face and her shirt too but she looked cute so his lazy self gave a second thought about cleaning her

"Baby boy...." His father turned his face towards him.

"Dad, I'm 36." Ihsan interrupted.

"Yeah but..."

"You know I can't do this..... I can't cook, the warm oil scares me, the egg shells are gross and I have a daughter to take care of and look after." His voice was in such balanced tone that it didn't quite felt like he's bothered by any of the thing that he stated.

"It was your decision that you wanted to cook at your place because you thought you give us some kind of trouble." His mother pointed out looking for the cleaner she put under the sink the last time she came knowing well Ihsan wouldn't have moved it.

"And trust me Ihsan, it's no big deal, you can help your ma in kitchen, me being your pa and way cooler than you can take care of my granddaughter and we can have breakfast and dinner together everyday. We are a family."

Yes, a family of four. Ibraim Demir, Hayal Demir, Ihsan Demir and Ilhan Demir. Having a family was what Ilhan considered as the biggest blessing in his life. They lived in a two storey house. While Ibraim and Hayal stayed on the ground floor, Ihsan found the upper portion consisting of two rooms just perfect for him and his daughter because he knew there would be no one else coming to live with them anytime soon.