Together Again

Chapter 12

It had been nearly a month since Eda’s disappearance. Each day felt like an eternity to Serkan, as if the world had come to a grinding halt without her. The city of Istanbul, bustling and full of life, seemed like a hollow shell to him. His apartment, once a place of comfort, was now cold and empty. Every morning, he woke with a flicker of hope—today might be the day he would finally hear from her. But the silence remained, persistent, suffocating.

Serkan’s hair had grown shaggy, his once-immaculate suits disheveled. His eyes, once sharp and full of purpose, were now clouded with exhaustion, their usual vibrancy dulled by worry. His colleagues had long since grown concerned, their whispers of sympathy laced with pity, but Serkan ignored them. The world around him felt like a distant hum, muted and far away, while all his focus remained on one thing: finding Eda.

He had hired private investigators, called in favors from every contact he had, and sent search parties across the globe. Days turned into weeks, but nothing. No one had seen her. The authorities were no help, their investigations slow and unfruitful. The police were certain she had simply run away, maybe even chosen to disappear. But Serkan couldn’t accept that. He knew Eda better than anyone. She would never just leave without a word. She was lost, hurt, and scared, and it was his responsibility to find her.

It had become his daily routine to visit Eda’s parents. Each time, they sat in the same quiet sorrow, waiting for a phone call that never came. They hadn’t heard anything either—no leads, no sightings. Only questions with no answers. Her mother’s eyes were always filled with tears, while her father would sit quietly, his strong hands resting on his knees, a man shattered in silence.

Serkan knew they were all living in the same nightmare, but the weight of it crushed him most when he was alone with them. He had become an outsider in his own grief. They spoke of Eda’s last days with them, recounting how she had seemed distracted, torn between the life she was leading and the one she had left behind. Eda had always been self-conscious, unsure of her place in Serkan’s world, afraid that she was a burden.

“I should have been there,” Serkan often muttered under his breath, the guilt eating at him from the inside. “I should have understood.”

But the days blurred together, and with each passing one, his hope began to fade. The silence was becoming unbearable. He couldn't shake the feeling that something had happened to her, something terrible. She couldn’t have just vanished—could she?

Meanwhile, in the dense wilderness far from the city, Eda was fighting to survive.

The last thing Eda remembered was the crash. She had been on a plane, a routine flight she’d taken hundreds of times before. But then, turbulence had ripped through the cabin like an unstoppable force. The plane’s engines roared, the plane tilted violently, and the earth seemed to swallow her whole.

When she regained consciousness, the world was silent—eerily so. Her body ached, every muscle screaming in protest. The remnants of the plane were scattered across the forest floor, twisted metal and broken glass gleaming in the dim light of the setting sun. Eda had barely been able to move, her legs shaking beneath her, her hands trembling as she pushed herself up. Her head was fuzzy, her vision blurred. She didn’t know how long she’d been unconscious, but the sharp pain in her body told her it had been too long.

As her senses returned, she realized she was in the middle of nowhere. The forest stretched on for miles in every direction, dense trees and thick underbrush blocking out the sky. She could hear the distant chirping of birds, the occasional rustling of leaves, but nothing else. No signs of human life. No rescue teams. She was alone.

Fear gripped her chest, but it was quickly replaced by a cold, steady determination. She had to survive. She had no choice. The thought of death, of giving up, was foreign to her. She had been running away for so long, but now, in this isolation, there was nowhere to run. She could only go forward.

Eda found a stream, drank from it, and used the last of her strength to gather what little she could from the wreckage—food, a flashlight, a first aid kit. She moved cautiously, building a crude shelter beneath the canopy of trees, praying for a miracle that never came. She could only hope that someone, somewhere, would find her. But there was no way to signal for help—no phones, no satellite signals, no roads.

The days blurred together. She rationed her food, boiled water from the stream, and worked to keep her body strong. But it wasn’t just her physical survival that challenged her—it was the crushing isolation. In the silence of the forest, the voices inside her head grew louder, reminding her of all the things she had fled from. The guilt she had carried for so long, the belief that she was a burden, and the conviction that Serkan would be better off without her.

But there were moments—brief, fleeting—that she thought of him. Of his soft words, his touch, the way he had tried to reassure her that she wasn’t alone. She remembered his eyes, full of warmth and care. For the first time in months, she felt a flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, she could find a way back to him.

Back in Istanbul, Serkan was unraveling. He had thrown himself into his work, trying to bury the pain beneath endless meetings, phone calls, and business deals. But none of it mattered. His focus was shattered. His colleagues had noticed the change. He barely ate, barely slept, only surviving on caffeine and the hope that Eda would return. But each day that hope seemed further away.

The search parties had found nothing. There were no leads, no clues. It felt like a cruel game of cat and mouse, with Serkan constantly a step behind.

Then, just as he was beginning to lose hope, a breakthrough came. A small, anonymous tip—one that couldn’t be ignored—had surfaced. Someone had seen a woman matching Eda’s description in a village deep in the mountains, far from civilization. It wasn’t much, but it was a lead. Serkan didn’t hesitate. He packed his things, told no one, and boarded a plane bound for the remote village.

The journey was long, and the air grew thinner as they flew higher into the mountains. Serkan’s heart raced as he thought of Eda—what if she was alive? What if this was the moment he had been waiting for?

When the plane touched down on the small, uneven runway, Serkan felt his pulse quicken. He was close now—closer than ever. But when they arrived at the village, the people barely acknowledged his presence. The place was isolated, trapped in time, as if the world had forgotten about it.

Serkan hired a guide and set out into the forest, where the woman had been seen. They walked for hours, their boots crunching the dry leaves beneath them. The landscape grew more rugged and inhospitable with each passing mile, the forest thickening as the path became narrower.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, they reached a clearing where a small, decrepit cabin stood. It looked abandoned—like something out of a dream. But Serkan could feel the presence of something, someone, there.

Without thinking, he rushed forward, pushing past the guide, his heart hammering in his chest. Inside, there was a woman. She wasn’t Eda, but she was close—her face pale, gaunt, her eyes vacant.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” the woman said, her voice barely a whisper.

Serkan froze. The words struck him like a blow. He wasn’t sure what he had expected, but it wasn’t this. His breath caught in his throat. "Who are you?" he demanded, his voice trembling with frustration and confusion.

The woman looked up, her eyes empty but knowing. "You’ve been searching for Eda," she said softly. "But it’s too late. She’s gone."

Serkan’s heart seemed to stop. The world around him blurred as his mind raced to make sense of the situation. "What do you mean? Where is she?" He moved toward her, his body shaking with desperation.

The woman didn’t answer right away. She simply stared at him, her eyes haunted by something Serkan couldn’t understand. “She’s lost in a way you can’t comprehend," she whispered. "And you will never find her.”