Chocolate & Whiskey

Istanbul Nights

Such dark, so tart Istanbul nights. Salty wind walking through the narrow deserted streets and wide busy avenues. The noise of the surf, as if in fragments breaking on sharp and lifeless coastal stones. Alienated calm mixed with unbridled passion. So different, but at the same time, such similar combinations of things around him.

Emre loved these nights with all his heart as long as he could remember himself. A lighted lamp with a lampshade, a dim light in a small cozy bedroom, a glass of whiskey on the bedside table and a faint crackle of the fire in the fireplace, which comes from the living room. Everything is there, but something is still missing. This strange feeling must have awakened in him for a reason.

Sipping a bitter drink, Divit, lounging in a chair, is waiting. He is waiting for someone to come to brighten up this loneliness that he was tired of many years ago, to heal invisible wounds, to bring him back to life and re-fall in love with it. Or maybe make it fall in love with him. But the only one in the world, in which he managed to fall in love, will never come, Emre knows this. Forever given to another because of the stupid things they both committed.

Someone else's bride.

Not his.

Not with him, she would go down the aisle, not to him she will give herself the first night, no matter how much he wishes the opposite. From his lips once again falls native, soaked with poisonous bitterness and great love the name.

"Leyla―"

To their shared happiness, she chose quiet, deep sufferings. No wonder: she always knew how to see the light, even where it never existed.

After all, she saw the light in him.

She saw and burnt herself with an imaginary glow, was frightened, didn't dare to approach again. So pure and innocent. Aydin doesn't know at all that « to love» means «to burn». She had never loved before him, and Emre hated himself for what he wanted Leyla so much to didn't love after him. He won't share her with anyone else. She's all — from the fluffy lashes to the barely visible freckles on her pale, marble skin — all was, is and will remain for him. Because that's just... that's impossible. Such ardent feelings in your whole life you experience only once.

The quiet creak of the door disrupts this oppressive silence of the night, that silent calm that had covered the guy with his head. Emre turns around and involuntary shudders, staring intently at the one in the doorway.

In a thin nightgown, without shoes, without a warm robe, and without a gold ring. Leyla looks at him openly, but a little tentatively, she doesn't dare to enter inside.

"You came," whispers Divit rising to his feet and walking over to her.

Takes her hand, leads her into the room and barely audibly closes the door behind her.

"What for?" he asks in the same bitter whisper.

Asked himself rather than hers.

Couldn't she was able to let go?

Aydin doesn't hurry to answer. It's difficult for her. She still tries to hide from the truth in the dimness of this small, suddenly so cramped bedroom. Doll eyes, thin hands and graceful bends of shoulders. Emre doesn't believe she's really here. After a long time, she is so unusually close, standing across from him, a few centimeters. Just reach out your hand, and you'll immediately touch her. Divit gently touches her lips, runs a finger over them, then tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.

Unfabled.

Leyla smiles but smiles not like before. In her smile, the guy notices a spark ignited by himself. A warm palm falls timidly on his shoulder. Such a familiar and neutral gesture, from which is now an incredible force an electric charge passes through his entire body. She comes closer, more and more, until she feels her breath begin to stray with excitement. For the first time, with her fingertips touches his cheek, and smiles again.