Together Again

Chapter 13

Serkan’s heart thudded painfully in his chest as he stood before the woman, her words sinking in like daggers. “She’s gone.” The phrase repeated itself in his mind like a cruel mantra. His world, already fractured by the uncertainty of Eda’s disappearance, seemed to break even further. Gone. How could she be gone? He had searched for so long, fought so hard.

“Where is she?” Serkan demanded again, his voice ragged, almost pleading. His fists clenched, knuckles white. “Tell me where she is!”

The woman’s eyes flickered, a distant sadness clouding them. She shifted uncomfortably, and then, as if coming out of some trance, she rose slowly from her seat by the fire. She was frail, her movements slow and deliberate, but there was something in the way she carried herself—something that suggested she had been here far too long, hidden from the world.

“I can’t tell you everything,” she murmured, as though speaking to herself as much as to him. “But I can tell you this: Eda made her choice. And you…” She looked directly at Serkan, her gaze cutting through him like a sharp blade. “You have to stop. Let her go.”

Serkan recoiled as if struck. Let her go? After everything? He opened his mouth to argue, to fight back against the crushing weight of her words, but he was at a loss for anything to say. The woman watched him, her expression unreadable, before she slowly walked toward the small table in the corner of the cabin.

“She left…because of you,” she said, her voice heavy with truth. “She didn’t think you needed her. She thought you’d be better off without her.” Her voice quivered slightly, as if recalling a painful memory.

Serkan felt the air leave his lungs. His mind reeled. Eda thought I’d be better off without her? How had she gotten so lost in her own mind, in her own guilt? They had been each other’s everything, and now, she had believed the very thing that had almost torn them apart before—that she was a burden.

“No,” Serkan whispered, shaking his head as if to dispel the words. “That’s not true. She’s not a burden. She’s…” His voice faltered, the weight of the truth settling in, his own fears coming to light. He had never once wanted her to leave. He would have done anything to show her that she was the center of his world, that without her, nothing would feel right.

The woman’s lips tightened into a grim line, as if she were finally seeing through the facade that Serkan had built. “She’s lost, Serkan. So lost that even the path to herself is hidden from her now.” She paused, her eyes softening for the first time since Serkan had entered. “And she won’t find her way back unless you let her.”

Serkan staggered back as if her words had physically hit him. Let her go? Could he really do that? Could he, in this moment of hopelessness, walk away from the only person he had ever truly loved? The thought felt foreign, painful—like a jagged piece of glass lodged in his heart.

“But if I don’t find her—” Serkan began, his voice tight, choking on the words. “If I don’t find her, then what? How can I—how can I just walk away from her?” His eyes filled with a burning desperation. “I need to bring her back. She’s the only reason I’m still standing.”

The woman’s face softened as she studied him. There was something in her expression, a flicker of recognition, perhaps even pity. She had once known a similar pain, that much was clear. She had her own ghosts, her own battles that had scarred her deeply, but Serkan wasn’t ready to face any of that yet. His mind was still consumed by Eda, by the belief that he could save her, that he could bring her home.

“Do you think you can save her?” she asked, her voice suddenly gentle, almost tender. “Do you think that you can pull her back from the abyss she’s fallen into?” Her words were more of a reflection than a question. She was speaking not only to Serkan but to herself, as though the answer was as much for her as it was for him.

Serkan opened his mouth to argue, to say something, but found himself silenced by a hollow feeling in his chest. Could he save her? He had always been the protector, the one who could fix everything, the one who could always find the solution. But now, standing in this lonely cabin, surrounded by the silence of the mountains, he realized that this—this was different. Eda wasn’t just lost physically, she was lost within herself. And no amount of searching, no amount of effort, could change that.

“I’ve searched for her everywhere,” Serkan finally said, his voice broken. “I can’t stop. I won’t stop.”

The woman didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she turned and walked over to a small, wooden chest by the window. She opened it slowly, the creaking of the hinges cutting through the silence of the cabin. Inside were old, worn letters and maps, trinkets from a time long past.

When she turned back to Serkan, she held something in her hand. A small, leather-bound journal. “This is hers,” she said softly. “She wrote in it before everything went dark.”

Serkan’s breath caught in his throat. Eda’s journal. He had never seen it, but he knew it was hers. He could feel the weight of it in his hand as she handed it to him. The woman’s eyes met his one last time, her gaze piercing.

“She’s not here, Serkan,” she said. “But the answers you seek… they might be in here.”

Serkan opened the journal with trembling hands, his pulse racing as he began to flip through the pages. Each one was filled with the hurried, beautiful handwriting he knew so well. As his eyes skimmed the pages, he felt an overwhelming wave of grief and love. The journal spoke of her doubts, her insecurities, and most importantly—her fear of being a burden to him. The words bled off the pages, as raw and unfiltered as her soul.

And then, on the last page, he found something different.

“I need to be alone to find myself. I don’t know if I’ll return, but I hope you can forgive me. This is the only way I can heal.”

Serkan’s chest tightened. The pain of her words stabbed through him. She didn’t think I could help her. She didn’t think I could understand.

As he closed the journal, tears welled in his eyes. He wasn’t sure whether they were for the loss he had suffered, or for the realization that he had never truly known the depth of Eda’s pain.

The woman in the cabin watched him silently, her face softening with the barest hint of understanding. “It’s not too late, Serkan. But you have to choose: keep chasing her, or let her find her way.”

Serkan’s hands shook as he held the journal, the weight of his choices pressing on him more than ever. Could he truly let her go? Or was he condemned to wander in the darkness of this search forever, knowing that maybe, just maybe, it was time to let Eda heal on her own?