Together Again

Chapter 14

That night, Serkan couldn’t shake the weight of Eda’s journal in his hands. The pages felt like a tether to her, something that kept her spirit alive in the silence of the mountains. As he sat on the edge of the small cot in the cabin, the fire crackling in front of him, he felt an overwhelming need to do something—anything—to bridge the gap between them, to somehow keep her with him, even if only in words.

He opened the journal again, his eyes scanning the last few lines she had written. Her words had been a confession, a tearful goodbye, but also a message of hope—her hope that she could find herself, even if it meant being alone. Serkan’s hands shook as he traced the letters with his fingers, as if the simple act would somehow make her presence real again. He wanted to tell her everything—how much he loved her, how much he needed her, and how he was willing to wait for her, no matter how long it took.

But instead of just rereading the pages, he felt compelled to write. He grabbed the pen that was left by the bedside and began to write, the ink flowing onto the pages in a steady rhythm, the words spilling out of him as if they had been waiting for this moment.

“Eda, I don’t know if you’ll ever read this. I don’t know where you are or if you even want me to find you. But I need to tell you what’s in my heart. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. I’ll never stop loving you. Even if you think you don’t deserve it. Even if you think you can’t come back. I’m waiting. Please, come back to me.”

He paused for a moment, staring at the words, feeling a mixture of relief and sorrow wash over him. He knew it wasn’t enough. It couldn’t be enough. But it was all he could give her. With a heavy heart, he closed the journal and placed it beside him on the cot, as if the act of writing had somehow lessened the pain, though only a little.

Hours passed, but sleep never came. He tossed and turned on the cot, his mind restless, filled with images of Eda—the way her laugh had sounded, the warmth of her hand in his, the quiet moments they had shared when words weren’t needed. It was all he had left, and yet it felt so far away. The darkness of the night seemed to stretch endlessly before him, and each minute that ticked by without Eda at his side only deepened the ache in his chest.

Eventually, the fire began to die down, and the room grew cold. Serkan finally closed his eyes, exhausted, but sleep eluded him. His thoughts circled back to the woman in the cabin, the one who had told him to let go, to stop searching. Could it really be over? He couldn’t imagine living in a world where Eda wasn’t a part of it, but the pain of not knowing if she was even alive, let alone safe, made everything feel like a cruel and endless game.

When the first light of dawn crept through the cracks in the cabin’s walls, Serkan rose. He couldn’t stay here any longer. He had to find her—no matter what it took. His determination surged anew, a fire that burned hotter than any ache of longing. He grabbed the journal, shoved it into his coat pocket, and left the cabin without a word.

The woman was gone by the time he returned to the small room. There was no sign of her—no note, no trace of where she had gone. She had vanished as quietly as she had appeared. Serkan wasn’t surprised. It felt almost like a dream, a fleeting moment of clarity in the chaos of his search. But now, he was alone again. Alone with his thoughts, alone with his pain, and alone with his mission.

Serkan began his journey as the sun crested over the horizon. He walked for hours, the landscape stretching endlessly before him. The air was crisp, the sharp scent of pine filling his lungs with every breath. His legs ached almost immediately, the exhaustion of days without rest catching up to him. But he didn’t stop. He couldn’t. Every step, every mile, brought him closer to Eda, to whatever piece of her still lingered in this wild, unforgiving world.

The path was rugged and uneven, the forest dense and intimidating. Serkan had no map, no guide—just the journal in his pocket and the hope that somehow, it would lead him to her. He paused only for water breaks when he came across streams, bending down to drink directly from the cool waters, as if the earth itself could nourish him in this barren landscape. At night, when his legs could carry him no longer, he sought out the nearest patch of ground that felt safe enough to sleep, curling up under the stars and the cover of the forest. But sleep came slowly, always elusive, always interrupted by the weight of his thoughts.

Each night, as his body fought against the exhaustion, Serkan would pull out the journal again. He would write to Eda as if she were right beside him, telling her about the journey, the things he saw, the places he visited. Sometimes he would write about the things that were hardest to say, the unspoken truths that had festered inside him for so long. Other times, he would simply write about the hope that still burned brightly within him, the belief that if he just kept walking, just kept searching, he would find her again.

“I walked for hours today, through forests that seemed endless. The path is harder than I imagined, but it doesn’t matter. Every step I take is one closer to you. I don’t know if you can hear me, but I’m speaking to you in my mind. And I’ll keep speaking to you until I find you again.”

One evening, after walking for what felt like forever, Serkan collapsed in a clearing, his legs giving out beneath him. His body screamed in protest, but he didn’t care. He needed rest, however brief it might be. He didn’t even bother to unpack the few things he had carried with him; instead, he laid back against a large boulder, staring up at the stars above.

His thoughts, though heavy with grief, also felt strangely calm. Maybe it was the isolation of the wilderness or the exhausting rhythm of his journey, but in these moments of stillness, he could almost believe that Eda was out there—alive, somewhere, waiting for him.

As sleep finally overtook him, Serkan clung to that hope, the last tether to the woman he had once known so well. The night passed, but when morning came, he was up again before the sun, his heart driving him forward. There would be no turning back. He had made a promise to her, even if she didn’t remember it. And he would keep it.

Serkan walked on, one foot in front of the other, knowing that the path ahead was long, and the road uncertain. But the journey had begun, and he wasn’t going to stop until he found her.