THE STORMS WITHIN

No guts, no glory...

What could be said about a man's choices? About the way he makes his decisions, and the way he sees and perceives decisions made by those around him? Whether made by heart, head, or a combination of both, there comes a time when past decisions begin to make sense. And those decisions pave a way to what his next step should be. And that way points to only one option. Only one decision. One set forth by his fate...

Aziz leaned back in his chair, content in his peace of mind as he sat at the table in the Aydin's garden. The evening sun offered warmth yet it no longer shone in their eyes. The house bustled, buzzed, and vibrated with joyous energy, and the voices Aziz heard offered him something he did not expect just a few years ago. It offered him the feeling of belonging to the kind of family he always hoped for - for his sons as much as for himself. Those who sat around the table with him looked as if they were a family forever. And he hoped it would stay that way. The fact that his family grew in a speed faster than the speed of light made him appreciate it all that much more. After all, most of best things in life happened unexpectedly.

He looked around the table. He sat next to Mevkibe, who was holding little Ateş. Although some may say that she was born to be a mother, he could have sworn that the title of a grandmother fit her even better. There was so much love and kindness and understanding in her eyes that he wondered if she would be able to bottle it up and sell it at the Aydin's store. Nihat sat next to her. He beamed with a grandfather's pride. That light in his eyes could have easily outshone the sun. Aziz grinned because at that moment Can, who sat next to Nihat, passed Deniz to Nihat. Who knew that the brave man that Nihat always pretended to be could turn into mush by simply holding his grandson Deniz? Ahh, Nihat, ahh. Aziz thought...

His eyes wandered to Can. Can. There was no amount of words that would suffice for Aziz to describe what he felt when it came to Can. He was proud of him - there was no question about it. But there was so much more. He recalled the day of the 40th anniversary of Fikri Harika's existence. He was proud of the agency's achievements. Of what he accomplished as its owner. But could he admit to himself then that he was proud of himself as a father? He paused, and his grin grew smaller in size. He failed his children in many ways. All of them in some way or another. But he did raise good men. Good sons. And Can was the perfect example of that. As much as he feared asking Can to take over the agency in his absence, he was not surprised at all that Can agreed. It wasn't a matter of knowledge of how the agency operated.  After all, Can did know the agency inside and out. He was practically raised at the agency. He took his first steps in Aziz's office. Spoke the first word on the agency's back balcony when he spotted a bird, pointed to it, and shouted "kuş"! It was rather a matter of putting the burden of running the agency on Can's shoulders.

Leaving the agency in Can's hands proved to Aziz that fate knew best when it came to roads one was made to walk on. Who knew that by putting a delicate wildflower and joyful early bird in Can's path, it was exactly what he needed? Who knew? Who knew that it wasn't only Sanem that Can would come to love, but her parents as well? It warmed Aziz's heart to see the way Can and Nihat interacted. It was obvious that Can respected Nihat and Mevkibe. But it was also obvious that he loved them as well. From what he heard, Can did not have it easy when it came to convincing Nihat that he was worthy of his daughter. And who could blame Nihat? Every father had the right to protect his child. But there was something that changed in the recent months between Can and Nihat. Something that must have brought them closer, Aziz thought. And it confirmed to him that he had raised Can the right way.

And who could attest to it better than Sanem? Sanem Aydin Divit. The writer. The senior scriptwriter and senior partner of Fikri Harika. His daughter-in-law. Her name grew in his heart every time he thought of her. He looked at Sanem, who sat next to Can. The mere fact that the Aydins had to bring out the kitchen table and add it to their garden table just to fit them all together was the embodiment of what Sanem did to, and, for Can. For all Divit men. She brought them together. So much so that she even saved Fikri Harika. And to think that he was blessed to have her become his daughter filled his heart with even more gratitude for her. She was as unpredictible as she was endearing. He smiled and shook his head when he realized that Can's and Sanem's children would inherit best of both of their traits. Can's intuition and Sanem's charisma. (He had no idea that Deniz would come to inherit more than that, for fate would bestow upon him Sanem's gift of the most intuitive kind of an inner voice of his own)...