I Knew I Loved You

Chapter 11

Somebody shine a light

I'm frozen by the fear in me

Somebody make me feel alive

And shatter me

So cut me from the line

Dizzy, spinning endlessly

Somebody make me feel alive

And shatter me

If I break the glass, then I'll have to fly

There's no one to catch me if I take a dive

I'm scared of changing, the days stay the same

The world is spinning, but only in gray

(Shatter Me - Lindsey Stirling feat. Lzzy Hale)

On the first day after Kemal's confession, Burcu does something she has never done before, neither as a student nor as a teacher: She calls in sick and takes a day off for herself, holing herself off in her small apartment, clutching onto a fluffy and somewhat disdainful Minnoşum under a mountain of blankets she doesn't need for actual warmth. She allows herself a bit of wallowing - even if she isn't quite sure what she's wallowing in. Part of it is self-pity. Because she still hasn't overcome the fact that a stupid misunderstanding, or rather a second chance that never saw the light of day, is what messed up so much of her life, and apparently also so much of Kemal's.

Every single word of his confession is burned into her brain as if someone had taken a chisel and etched it on her innermost walls, so that not even another decade would be able to erase it. She can almost run her fingers over it. Each of those letters is not just forming a word, it's also as if she's been branded, as if she's been marked as his.

After hours of sighing and sniffling in bed, Burcu tells herself wallowing won't get her anywhere but mucky and drowning. She forces down some çay and toast, pours Minnoşum's favorite kibble into a bowl, and then drags herself to her 'thinking spot'. She sits by the window, her eyes lingering on the bits of the skyline, on the random patterns dust and dried rain have left on the window pane. The room is quiet, save for the distant hum of traffic outside and for her cat cronch-monching. Not even a day has passed since Kemal's confession, and yet the weight of his words presses against her chest. It aches, both in a pleasant and unpleasant way.

She replays the moment - the way his eyes held hers, the vulnerability in his voice, his gentle touch - as if it were a cherished melody. For over a decade, she's carried this longing, this secret yearning that has woven itself into the fabric of her existence. A longing and yearning for Kemal, for the man who haunted her dreams, even when she tried to forget him and even when he'd seemingly been the one to give up on her.

His words echo through her mind like the refrain of a new favorite song, but she doesn't feel like dancing and singing. She thinks of how he has been so open, how he's placed his fate in her trembling hands. How much courage it takes for that, especially considering their past. Especially considering that they may both have been cowards in their own way those days.

Kemal's confession has been both a revelation and a reckoning. They have both changed, life has sculpted them into different versions of themselves. Yet, here they are, standing at the precipice of possibility again.

Fear coils within Burcu. Fear of losing the friendship they seem to have built these past few months, fear of shattering the delicate balance they've barely maintained. What if their second - or third - chance proves fate right? What if even now that they've changed and yet rediscovered their love for each other, they'll realize all too soon that they were never meant to be?