Moonlight 💫

~Chapter 40~

Feraye lingered by the window a moment longer, watching the stillness of his car. The longer she stared, the tighter the guilt coiled inside her chest. She had cut him with her words sharp, careless, words she hadn't meant. And yet he had taken them in silence, retreating, giving her space she hadn't truly wanted.

Her hands pressed against the glass, cool against her skin, while her thoughts burned hot. She could let him wait. She could let the night swallow the chance of mending what she'd just broken. But her heart refused to stay locked away in the studio any longer.

With a heavy sigh, she gathered her bag, shut off the lights, and locked the door behind her. Each step down the staircase felt deliberate, weighted with hesitation. She rehearsed the words she might say I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. I was only tired. I was scared. But the moment she imagined his eyes on her again, the words scattered like fragile glass.

By the time she reached the street, her pulse was fluttering wildly. The night air was cool, brushing against her cheeks, carrying the faint scent of rain. His car was still there, steady and silent, a reminder that Ates never walked away easily.

She approached slowly, her heels tapping against the pavement. Every sound seemed amplified in the stillness her breath, her heartbeat, the faint hum of the streetlight above.

Ates must have heard her, because the driver's side door opened, and then he was there. He rose from the car in one smooth motion, tall and steady, his presence grounding her even as it unsettled her. His hands slid back into his pockets, that guarded stance returning, though his eyes betrayed the weight he carried.

Feraye stopped a few paces away, her throat tightening. For a heartbeat, neither of them spoke. The silence between them pulsed with everything she wanted to say and everything she was too afraid to admit.

Finally, she whispered, "Ates..." His name left her lips softer than before, carried on a sigh that trembled with both apology and longing.

He didn't move closer, though his gaze held hers with quiet intensity. "You didn't have to come out," he said evenly, though his voice carried a subtle roughness.

"I told you I'd wait."

"I know," she murmured, lowering her eyes. Her fingers tightened around the strap of her bag. "But I didn't want you waiting too long."

The corner of his jaw tightened as he studied her. "Why do you do that?" he asked quietly.

She blinked, startled. "Do what?"

"Push me away," Ates said, his tone low but unwavering. "One moment you let me in, the next you build walls I can't see through. And I—" He stopped, shaking his head. His gaze flickered briefly away, as if steadying himself, before returning to her.

"I don't know what you want from me, Feraye. Do you?"

Her breath caught. The question struck deeper than she expected, and she found herself unable to answer. She wanted to say everything how much she needed him, how much she feared him, how much her heart betrayed her every time he was near. Instead, she swallowed, her voice barely audible.

"It's not you," she whispered. "It's me. I just... don't know how to breathe when you're this close. And I say things I don't mean."

He studied her, his eyes shadowed but steady. "So you'd rather wound me than tell me the truth?"

The words pierced her, and she flinched. She shook her head quickly.

"No. I never want to hurt you."

"Then why does it feel like you do?"

The question unraveled her, and she drew in a shaky breath, blinking against the sting in her eyes. For a moment, all she could do was look at him, the distance between them alive with everything unspoken.