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(NOT: BÖLÜMÜN TÜRKÇE YAZILI HALİ AŞAĞIDA)
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My wife lost her mother when she was a teenager. Because of this, she was a bit of a maverick and a rebellious woman. Our families didn't even want us to date, let alone marry. Although I asked my mother every time why she didn't want Buse, she would say she didn't want to and cut it off. Buse's side was no different from mine. Her father didn't want me either. The reason he didn't want me was because we were below them as a family, in other words, he didn't want a poor groom. We both got married without listening to our families. We never pressured each other to see our families. I was not the only one who had problems with my wife's father. She rarely saw him. A few years after we bought our house, I had to default on the mortgage a few times because I was in a small financial crunch. Although my husband knew how sensitive I was about taking money from his father, he took money from his father for my mortgage and we had a serious fight about it before I left for a business trip abroad.

While I was traveling, I had only read in the media that Kemal Köksoy had lost his life in a traffic accident. There was no information about the other side as if they were not human beings but something else. Because of what his father had done to my sister and because of the shame my grandfather had suffered because of my sister, and even though Mr. Kemal was not to blame for what had happened, I was not at all saddened by his death.

When I came back from the trip, I learned that the other driver in that accident was my wife and that she had died a few days after the accident and was buried in the cemetery of orphans because I was abroad.

Since Buse was estranged from both sides, neither her side nor my side knew that Buse had died and was buried in the cemetery of orphans.

My husband had a history of leukemia. For a while he thought that he would not survive that disease, so he chose the cemetery where he wanted to be buried. She had it furnished as she wanted, and even wrote a list of flowers she wanted to be planted on it. When I had his grave opened to move him to that grave, I learned that his rib cage was broken. Who would want the heart of a person who had leukemia in his past! In my opinion, my husband did not die because of the traffic accident. I think she was killed for her heart. Unless I found the people who did this and brought them to justice, my husband's soul would not rest in peace. Although I had come so far with my own efforts in these three years, I could not be satisfied because of that family. When my sister's daughter Didem won the prosecutor's office and took office; I arranged a meeting at the Divan on Bebek beach to congratulate her and to ask for her help. On my way to the table reserved for us, I bumped into a woman in her twenties. I grabbed her waist and pulled her towards me to prevent her from falling. She had a different air and a face as clear as water.

He had a sharp, penetrating gaze. When I was sure he was okay, I let him go. The little boy with him was like a teenager. The girl must have been aware of this, because she politely took her friend with her and left me so as not to prolong the incident. As I turned around and took a step back, I heard a sound under my foot. When I pulled my foot back, it was a needle earring that made that sound. I picked it up and put it in the inside pocket of my jacket. When I got to my nephew, we hugged for a long time. Then we placed our orders. After the pleasantries, I broached the subject and Didem listened patiently.

Since Didem didn't know our relationship with that family, I couldn't answer her question "Uncle, or do you suspect them of organ trafficking?" I just stared at her with glazed eyes. She tried to explain to me that it couldn't be by listing the articles of the laws I knew at length.

"Look, peanut, it's not just about this country. If you have the power, everything you say can't happen can happen."

"I understand. I'll look into it for you."

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