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f i v e

We walk in comfortable silence, the buzz of the stadium gradually fading as we move further away. Kenan leads the way to a quiet little café tucked away from the main street. It is cozy and intimate, a stark contrast to the bustling café where I work. As we step inside, the barista greets Kenan with a nod, clearly recognizing him.
The young footballer orders two coffees, and we find a secluded table by the window. I watch as he settles into his seat, his demeanor more relaxed now that we are away from the crowds. He looks at me, his eyes softening, and I cannot help but feel a flutter of nerves mixed with excitement.

"Ive been wanting to do this for a while," Kenan admits, breaking the silence. "It is nice to just...talk without all the distractions."

I smile, wrapping my hands around the warm cup. "I agree. It feels like we never really get a chance to just be ourselves."
He nods, taking a sip of his coffee.

"Exactly. There is so much pressure all the time. Sometimes I just want to escape it, you know?"

I do know. Even though our lives are so different, I understand the need for a break from the demands and expectations. "It must be exhausting, being in the spotlight all the time."

"It is," he says, his gaze distant for a moment. "But its worth it. I love what I do. It is just...complicated?"
I lean forward, genuinely curious. "What do you mean?"

He hesitates, searching for the right words. "Its hard to find people who see me for who I really am, not just the footballer. When I am with you, I feel like I can be myself. It is refreshing."

His words touch me deeply, and I feel a warmth spreading through my chest. "Im glad you feel that way. I like seeing this side of you, too."
We talk for hours, the conversation flowing easily. Kenan tells me about his childhood, his dreams, and the sacrifices he ' s made to get where he is. I share my own stories my struggles, and the little victories that make working at the café worthwhile. I tell him how I am saving money until I can open my own café one day, my dreams. There is a connection between us that grows with each passing minute, a bond thats both comforting and exhilarating.

As the evening wears on, the café begins to empty out, the soft hum of conversation dwindling to a quiet murmur. The Turkish footballer reaches across the table, taking my hand in his. His touch is gentle, his eyes filled with an intensity that takes my breath away.
"I want to see where this goes, Mine." , he says softly. "I know it wont be easy, but I think its worth it-"
"We can get to know each other better,"

I squeeze his hand, my heart full. "I think so too, Kenan."
We sit there, hand in hand , the world outside the window slowly darkening. In this moment, it feels like anything is possible. For the first time in a long while, Im filled with hope and excitement for the future.

As we leave the café, Kenan walks me hime, his arm wrapped protectively around my shoulders. The streets are quiet, the city settling into the calm of the night. When we reach my apartment building, we stop, turning to face each other.
"Thank you for tonight." I say, my voice barely above a whisper. "It was perfect, I didnt have so much fun in a long time."

He smiles, brushing a strand of hair from my face. "Thank you, Mine. For everything. And for giving us a chance."

We stand there for a moment, the air between us charged with unspoken words. Then, slowly, he leans in and presses a gentle kiss to my forehead. It is a simple gesture, but it speaks volumes.
"Goodnight." He murmurs, his lips lingering for a moment.

"Goodnight,Kenan." I reply, my heart soaring.