Soul [Complete]

Eight

I run out the door, my heart pounding in my chest, but Emir is nowhere to be seen. Desperation claws at me as I pull out my phone and dial his number. My heart sinks when I hear the automated voice, "You have dialed a wrong number."

Confusion grips me as I stare at the screen. How could this be? Kerim comes rushing out after me, concern etched on his face. "What's wrong?" he asks, his voice laced with worry.

I don't say anything, my mind spinning. All I can think about is finding Emir. "I need to find Emir," I finally manage, my voice trembling.

Kerim looks at me, puzzled. "Is everything okay?"

It was only me who saw him—Kerim was crying on my shoulder when Emir appeared. My throat tightens as I whisper, "I think he's gone."

Kerim's face twists in confusion. "How do you know?"

"He saw us... in the room," I reply, my voice barely audible. The memory of Emir's hurt expression flashes in my mind, and I feel a wave of guilt wash over me.

Without another word, we both rush to the beach house, my heart in my throat the entire way. I knock on the door, my hand trembling. No response. I knock again, louder this time, but still nothing. Panic starts to set in as I knock a third time, harder, almost desperately.

Finally, I hear footsteps approaching from inside. The door swings open, but instead of Emir, an old woman stands before me. My heart sinks in confusion and dread. "Where's Emir?" I ask, my voice shaking.

The woman frowns at me, her eyes narrowing. "Emir? I don't know any Emir."

"This is his house," I insist, my voice rising in panic.

The woman shakes her head, looking at me like I'm mad. "I own this house. I've lived here for years. There's no one named Emir here."

My mind reels, trying to make sense of what she's saying, but before I can ask more, Kerim gently pulls me away. His grip is firm, as if grounding me in reality. We walk away from the house, my heart heavy with the strange, unsettling truth. Emir is gone, but the question remains—was he ever really there?

As we stand outside the beach house, Kerim's expression shifts, a deep sadness clouding his eyes.

"Sorry, Hayaat," he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

I look at him, confused. "Why are you apologizing?"

He hesitates, then slowly reaches into his pocket and pulls out a neatly folded piece of paper. "This morning, I met him. Emir. He asked me to give this to you."

My heart skips a beat, a mixture of fear and hope swirling inside me. Kerim's hand trembles slightly as he hands me the paper, his eyes filled with regret. The weight of the paper in my hand feels like it's carrying the answers to every question that has plagued me. But it also feels like it holds the end of something beautiful, something I wasn't ready to lose.

Kerim's sorrow is palpable, and I know he's struggling with something he hasn't told me. But my focus is on the letter, and as I begin to unfold it, a wave of emotions crashes over me. Whatever Emir has written, it feels like it will change everything.

* * * * * *

My Dearest Hayaat,

I've been avoiding your question, the one you've asked me over and over—the last thing that happened between us before I came here. I couldn't bring myself to say it, not out loud. But maybe, through this letter, I can finally share it with you.

In the future, we were driving, just you and me. You never wanted to go on that long drive, I remember that clearly. But I insisted, convinced that the open road and the wind in our hair would be good for us. I wanted to show you the world beyond the ordinary, to feel the rush of life as we sped down the highway together. But instead, we found something else. We found the darkness that I now carry with me.

We had an accident. That's the last thing I remember before everything changed. I don't know the details, I don't know how it ended, but I think... I think I lost you, Hayaat. The car spun out of control, and in those terrifying seconds, the world turned upside down. There was chaos, there was fear, and then, suddenly, there was nothing. The next moment, I was no longer there—I was here, in your bedroom, staring at the young woman I'd only dreamed about.

It's all a blur, but one thing is clear: I heard your voice, Hayaat. Not the Hayaat from my world, but you—the one I found here. Your voice echoed in my mind, calling out to me as if your wish, your prayer, pulled me through time and space. And that's why I'm here now, standing before you, trying to make sense of it all.

I don't understand, Hayaat. How is it that you called to me, that I found you just when I needed you most? How is it that I've crossed time itself to be with you? None of this makes sense, and yet, here we are.

I can't explain it, but I don't want to lose you—not again. I need you to meet me at the beach. There's something about that place, something that feels like it's where our answers lie. Maybe together, we can unravel this mystery, or maybe we'll just find peace in knowing we're not alone in it.

Please, Hayaat. Meet me at the beach. Let's figure this out together.

With all my love,

Emir

I sprint along the shoreline, my feet sinking into the soft, wet sand with every desperate step. The wind whips through my hair as I call out his name, "Emir!" The waves crash loudly against the shore, drowning out my voice, but I keep shouting, hoping he'll hear me.

"Emir!" I yell again, my voice cracking with panic and exhaustion. I scan the horizon, my eyes searching frantically for any sign of him, but there's nothing—just the endless stretch of beach and the vast, empty ocean. The sun begins to dip lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the sand, making the world feel even more desolate.

My heart races, each beat a painful reminder that he's gone. The tears blur my vision, but I don't stop running. I don't stop searching. I can't.

But with every step, with every call of his name, the hope that I'll find him starts to fade. The realization slowly sinks in, like a heavy weight pulling me down, that he's nowhere to be found. And with that realization, a cold, crushing despair washes over me.

I stop in my tracks, my legs giving out as I collapse onto the sand. The world around me blurs, the sound of the ocean fading into the background. I feel like everything is crumbling, like the world is ending, and there's nothing left.

"Emir..." I whisper, my voice barely audible now. My hands dig into the sand as if trying to hold on to something, anything, to keep myself from falling apart. But he's gone, and all I'm left with is the emptiness where he used to be.

The beach, once so full of life and possibility, now feels like a place of loss—a place where everything ended. And as the sun finally disappears below the horizon, the darkness closes in, leaving me alone with the unbearable ache of his absence.