Yaman, what are you doing?! Stop!"
Feraye stands in between them, one hand on Ateş' chest, the other held up in front of Yaman. Her heart pounds a vicious beat against her ribcage, but she tries to push past the fear. "Yaman, put down the gun."
"He deserves to die," Yaman spits out, pushing her hand out of the way.
"Don't touch her," Ateş growls, trying to push her behind him gently. She refuses to move, keeps her body in between them.
"Yaman, what do you mean he deserves to die, that's crazy! He's your brother!"
"He's not my brother!" Yaman screams, "he's not a Gülsoy, and he's not my brother.
Feraye's eyes widen and she looks to Ateş, sees the anger burning in his eyes, but also the deep sadness. It will take some time to wrap her head around this information, but it doesn't matter. "He's still your brother."
He shakes his head. "He's not."
Feraye lets out a frustrated breath. "You can't do this, this is insane."
"He took everything from me!"
She closes her eyes. "Not this again," she says tiredly. "He hasn't taken anything from you. Everything you think he took from you, I gave to him willingly."
He takes a step back. "You love him."
Her breath stutters. It's a truth she has kept hidden, even from herself sometimes. To hear Yaman say the words is jarring; and something she's not ready for.
Ateş scoffs. "What more does this girl have to do to prove her love to you? She doesn't love me," he exclaims. He tries not to show it, but it obviously hurts.
She hates herself for it. She can't even blame him for not believing she could love him, considering their last conversation.
"Yaman, this has to stop," she pleads with him quietly.
Yaman's eyes turn cold. "You didn't deny it."
"Deny what?"
"You didn't deny that you love him."
Feraye rolls her eyes.
His hand tightens on the gun. "You do, don't you? You love him."
Feraye steps to the side, shielding Ateş. "Stop this," she tries to plead with him.
Ateş pulls at her arm, tries to move her to the side. "Feraye, move- what are you doing?"
Eyes burning with anger, Yaman points the gun at her. "I'm going to shoot him, even if it has to be through you, Feraye. Move."
Ateş pushes her behind him, keeps his arm locked on her. "What are you doing, huh?" He snaps at him. Feraye wishes she can see his face right now. "You can shoot me, you can do whatever you want to me," he says menacingly, "but you do not get to touch her."
Yaman cocks the gun, "she's mine."
I'm not, she wants to say, not anymore.
Ateş shakes his head, tightens his arm around her. "She's not yours, and if you keep doing this, she never will be."
She sees it in his eyes in that moment; knows instinctively that Yaman is going to shoot him.
Yaman is going to shoot Ateş.
What happens next is not something she does consciously; it's instinct.
Feraye moves away from Ateş' warmth, from the safety of his arms, and pushes him to thwart side as hard as she can.
