THE STORMS WITHIN

A remorseful heart...

Some say that it matters not in life where one was raised, where one came from, or on which side of the tracks one was raised. As much as it may be so, blood does run thicker than water.

Sanem stood by the stove in the kitchen, working her magic preparing Can's favorite kahlvati (breakfast) of Menemen (Turkish scrambled eggs). The music was gently playing in the background, at a low volume so Ateş and Yıldız would not be woken up as they rested in their cribs after their morning feeding. Occasionally, Sanem turned around to look lovingly at Can. He was sitting by the kitchen counter holding Deniz, the third baby of their triplets. He was as taken with his firstborn son as the proudest father in the world could be. If someone asked her to describe what she saw in Can's eyes at that moment, Sanem could happily pen enough words to complete her third novel. She was already considering writing the tale of a valiant father who conquered mountains and seas, all the while showing his three precious children how the world was open to all of life's possibilities if they would allow their hearts to lead the way.

Sanem had to admit that even though he was only one month old, little Deniz was the spitting image of his father. With an untamed storm of hair, Can's trademark V-shaped point in the hairline at the center of his forehead, piercing brown eyes and pouty lips. Deniz had even inherited the three small birthmarks that formed a triangle on Can's left cheek, as if they were meant to form their own constellation right on his beautiful little face. Their beautiful faces.

Even though Deniz had fallen back to sleep quite a while ago, Can still held him in his arms, captured by the bond that had not been there a mere month ago. Sanem smiled remembering how Can's eyes had lit up when he held little Kiraz in his arms, when he and Sanem woke up together from the night they spent on the couch babysitting baby Kiraz for Mihriban. When she saw him tending to this baby so tenderly then, she recalled the deep love she had felt for Can at that moment. And the hope harbored deep in her heart that maybe it was not too late for them.

If it was not for the aroma of perfectly scrambled eggs, his favorite çay, and the simit Sanem had just taken out of the oven, she was sure nothing would have been able to draw Can's attention from his baby son. But he did look up offering her a bright smile and a wink as he carried Deniz to the children's nursery. When he came back into the kitchen, he saw Sanem looking out the window with her back turned to him. She had closed her eyes and was listening to the chirping of the early birds. He walked over to her and embraced her, with his arms around her and his chin resting on her shoulder. She did not turn around but turned her head slightly so their faces met, cheek to cheek. Raising her hand, she caressed his other cheek, both of them taking in this small moment of time they were able to share, just the two of them.

They knew how precious those stolen moments had become since they now had their three little rascals to tend to. Sanem smiled as her mother's words came back to her. Mevkibe was a woman who always meant what she said. She had accurately foretold Sanem that her children would be perfect repayment for the mayhem she had caused her own parents. Of course, Mevkibe was completely right. Can and Sanem had been parents for no more than a month, and already Sanem had almost forgotten what life looked like before she became a mother. What it meant to go out for lunch or a walk with Can. To dress up to go to work at the agency. Or even to change out of her pajamas for the better part of the day.

Sanem had to admit she was glad to have Deren visit her more often now. Though they had been less than friendly when they met, they had both had a complete change of heart. Especially now. Especially after Ayhan and Deniz had left. Although Ayhan had returned, Deren was becoming more of a family member than simply a family friend. Sanem had noticed some time ago that something in Deren had changed. Something was different in her eyes. Was it a new mother's observation? An author's ability to pick up on the hidden undertones of a story? Sanem could not say but she knew and felt something was different. She had first noticed the change when Deren and the family came to visit them in the Galapagos. She saw it next when Bulut surprised them with a visit there, and noticed it again when Bulut had left the Galapagos so abruptly.