The story was special. The legend was powerful.
There were moments or story lines I desperately wished for, and moments that at times seemed small but were so important to discover and delve into. This is a book of these moments that I wanted to ex...
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Sanem stared at her screen for the rest of the day. She kept replaying what Yigit had said in her head: she'd lost who her character was. It felt like someone had punched her in the gut. The character she had worked on for years was apparently only surface level. Her entire arc revolved around falling in love, with no life beyond that. How had she never realized this? Was she really so obsessed with finding love that she had never thought about what her character could be beyond someone loving her back?
She stared at her screen again. She needed an idea. She needed a sentence. She needed tea.
Frustrated, Sanem pushed her chair back, accidentally knocking over a pile of books and spilling a cup of pens across the floor. She cursed under her breath and let out a grunt.
"Ah, Sanem, ah. Really great," she muttered aloud as she knelt to the floor, witnessing the tragic mess she had created.
Sanem laughed with annoyance at herself. She was tired of being clumsy and being the comic relief in her own story. She wished she could be elegant and confident.
She stared at the mess she had created and wished, just once, that everything in her life would click into place. She wanted a life where she knew where she was going and where she would land.
Sanem sighed, knowing she wasn't meant for that world. She began gathering her pens, placing them back where they belonged. When she was done, she started stacking her books, gathering all her how-to books, her notepads, and a few authors she was looking into. She saw one book stuck under her desk and picked it up. It was her journal. She didn't remember bringing it back to work, but as she touched the comforting, worn cover, the tension in her body eased. Her safe place enveloped her.
"Hello, old friend," Sanem whispered, tracing the worn leather. She flipped to the last filled page and realized it had been months since she had written in it.
Sanem put her books back on the desk and sat down with the journal. She opened to a random page and began to read:
"The Kötü Kral is a sorcerer for sure..."
Sanem chuckled, remembering how she used to call Can Kötü Kral - the bad king. It was funny now, but back then, she had truly believed he was out to destroy his father's legacy and the agency. His actions had never quite aligned with that belief, but she had used the nickname to remind herself he was wicked. Then she had seen how loving, creative, and compassionate he could be. She thought about Can now and how she couldn't imagine a world without her Kötü Kral.
So the Bakal Girl fell for the Kötü Kral, Sanem mused.
She continued reading:
"The Kötü Kral is a sorcerer for sure. Whenever I'm around him, I can say exactly what I want in life. He asks, and somehow, I tell him. 'I want to be a writer and publish a novel.' I told him this after barely learning his first name. I've never admitted that out loud to anyone - not even Ayhan. There I was, on a bridge to nowhere, and he asked. And I felt compelled to answer. How do I feel so comfortable, so encouraged, by someone who's supposed to be so cruel? He makes me think about what I truly want in life. He even joked about helping me find my albatross. But somehow, he made me forget I even had one. What a confusing but special day."
