Stay with me

Chapter 7 - Let the Past Go to Hell

"There, in Marseilles, were you with Iz?"

As soon as the phrase flew from her lips, Defne regretted that she had spoken it. Again she could not restrain herself and betrayed her feelings.

"Stupid, Defne! Where is your pride? "She scolded herself in her mind and tried to return the mask of indifference to her face. But Omer was no longer misled by this mask. He saw under it his Defne. Impulsive and sincere. Taking her chin and turning her face to himself, he looked into deep, amber eyes and answered:

- Not!

Defne closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Omer, stroking the delicate skin of her cheek with his thumb, spoke:

- Defne, I went to lick my wounds and understand myself. To think.

Decide how to live on. Iz was the last person I remembered then.

Defne removed his hand from her face and noted with bitter irony:

- You thought and decided to file for divorce ... I see. It is a logical decision.

- Defne, no. It's not like that! "I never wanted a divorce," Omer protested vehemently, but Defne only grinned wryly.

- You didn't want to, but ordered the lawyer to start the divorce proceedings ..."OK, Omer. We are past it. We're going to wrap up the conversations. I'm tired and want to sleep. "She turned on her side, her back to him and closed her eyes.

Omer didn't want to wrap up. At all. He desperately wanted to talk openly about all the problems. Dissect the abscesses and remove the pus that poisoned their lives. But Defne looked so exhausted and tired that he backed away. He got out of bed, looked for a long time at the thin profile of his wife, at the long eyelashes that cast a shadow on her pale cheeks, on her shiny hair and the thin hand lying on top of the blanket. It pinched in his chest. He wanted to lie down beside her. Hug and warm her with his warmth, share his strength. But she did not want this.

He turned off the light and quietly left the room.

Defne opened her eyes. She pressed her hand to her chest and barely whispered:

"Allah help me!"

In the morning she woke up from the sound of footsteps outside the door. They were almost silent, but her uneasy sleep was still disturbed. Defne lay and listened to Omer moving around the house. The clink of kitchen utensils, steps on the stairs, creaking doors to the bathroom, the sound of water pouring behind a wall.

The door to the bedroom quietly opened and Omer, trying to step quietly, went into the closet. Defne closed her eyes and pretended to be sleeping. A rustle of fabric was heard behind the movable curtain. Omer was getting dressed. She imagined this picture and she felt hot. Butterflies revived in the stomach and tickled sweetly with their wings. Defne was angry with them and herself. She swore in her mind.

"Defne, I know that you're not sleeping," the damn butterflies went completely crazy from the velvet notes of his voice.

Defne opened her eyes. Dressed in a business suit, shirt and tie, all so impeccably elegant Omer Iplikci, stood near her bed and looked at her so affectionately that she wanted to cry.

"Good morning," she greeted and pulled herself higher to the head of the bed.

- Good morning! Defne I need to be in Passionis today. Breakfast is on the table. Eat it to the last crumb. And do not try to ignore it. I will ask Zehra. By the way, she will come in half an hour and do all the housework. And you rest and gain strength.

She nodded silently. Omer wanted to kiss her goodbye. More precisely, he wanted her to do it. Like a loving wife who sees her husband off to work, but now he could only dream about it. Well, he will put this dream in a box to the rest and will slowly, step by step, go to their realization.