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The car stopped in front of the Erdogan Mansion. Alihan carefully looked over at Azra, who had fallen asleep on his shoulder. Her face was etched with the exhaustion of the day, a testament to how taxing it had been for her.
Gently, he shifted his shoulder, supporting her with his hand as he lifted her out of the car. Alihan's eyes betrayed a rare softness, a flicker of something unfamiliar stirring in his heart as he gazed at her.
"Why are you making me feel this way?" he whispered, a pang of guilt seeping into his voice as he held her, fragile and innocent, in his arms.
He carried her to his room, placing her gently on the bed and covering her with a comforter. He stood there for a moment, looking at her peaceful yet vulnerable face. "Alihan, you can't be weak," he muttered to himself, his voice a harsh whisper. "She deserves this pain."
As he turned to leave, he felt a sudden, delicate grasp on his wrist. It was Azra, clutching him in her sleep.
"No, no, don't leave me, Mama, please," she mumbled, her voice laced with fear and pain. Her face contorted in distress, the plea wrenching something deep inside Alihan.
He tried to free his hand, but Azra's grip tightened. "Papa, please don't leave me and Lily," she whimpered, her voice breaking.
Alihan's heart twisted at the sight of her, a cascade of emotions flooding through him. He sat on the edge of the bed, unable to pull away. The weight of her sorrow, her desperate plea for comfort, bore down on him.
He didn't pull his hand away. Instead, he lay down beside her, enveloped by the unfamiliar ache of compassion and regret. The warmth of her touch, the innocence of her fear, lulled him into a restless sleep beside her, the emotional turmoil etched into his soul.
He didn’t release his hand from her delicate wrist, kneeling beside the bed, his blue gaze locked onto her.
Slowly, his eyes traced her lips, the soft curves a haunting reminder of the fragile beauty before him. Every feature seemed sculpted with precision, an ethereal quality that held an unsettling allure. Yet, beneath that beauty, he saw something deeper—the silent suffering that lingered in her gaze, the shadows of fear and anguish she had carried, and the torment he had unknowingly woven into her life.
Her beauty was undeniable, but it wasn’t just the kind that stirred admiration—it was the kind that made a man question the darkness he was capable of, drawn to her like a moth to a flame, both captivated and haunted by the vulnerability she hid behind those perfect features.
The darkness of the night enveloped them, heavy and suffocating. He remained on the floor beside her, a silent sentinel, consumed by his thoughts. The hours slipped by, marked only by the haunting stillness that surrounded them, a reminder of the scars that life had left on her, and the demons he could never fully chase away.
