Two Lines

Chapter 3

"To wish was to hope, and to hope was to expect."

Jane Austen, Sense and Sensibility.

Ömer

Another letter. He got another letter from Defne. It had been months since the other two arrived. He thought she'd given up and left him to try and forget her. Not that he could ever do that, even without her letters, she was never far from his mind.

One year later and he was still making sense of every f*cking thing. The bad part is that even though he did not regret his behavior of all the people in his life, he was beginning to think he should have handled his relationship with Defne a lot differently... It's funny how the three letters she sent arrived to an Ömer that was in a different frame of mind.

When he got the first one, he did not want one thing to do with her. The letter came too soon. Soon after her calls stopped, actually. But even as betrayed and hurt as he was, he could not bring himself to burn it, so he put in away. Out of sight, out of mind.

When the second one arrived, he had already almost forgiven her, but that was it. He could forgive her, he could no see her. He thought they were better apart. His pride was still all he had, he had a new life now. He painted a lot, he didn't see much of the sun, he slept at odd hours, he drank way more than it was sensible and did not bother to eat as much as he should. He spent a lot of his free daily time working out his frustration away at the gym and walking aimlessly through the streets of Rome, not knowing where he was many a time and if it was already dark, he only stopped when he could see the sun again.

He saw a few old friends, tried to make new ones, but they all wanted the old Ömer. It's impossible to go back once had what was probably one of the best feelings of life: the confidence to give your heart away to someone knowing they would do everything in their power to take care of it.

He put his heart in Defne's care, and he was right to do it. She may have broken his trust, but her felt her love deep in his bones. For that alone he could be sure it had all been worth it.

He was loved once.

All those thoughts had been running through his head, not to be ignored for long no matter how much he tried to distract himself. And now a third letter had arrived. He had no way of knowing if she called again, since he didn't have that number anymore. Something told him she didn't. It had been months since that last one, he didn't want to care, but he was beginning to feel restless again, just when he convinced himself he was settled in life new Rome life.

Well, he tried to convince himself. He put his hands in his face and sighed. He needed some air, he was getting hungry anyway. He got up from his sofa, put her letter in the same place he kept the others and began to get ready to go out.

~*~

He was getting a prickling sensation at the back of his neck. He was being followed. In Rome.

What the hell? He just the one glass of wine. He kept on walking. He saw some people going on about their business but still, the weird feeling accompanied him for some blocks.

It finally happened. He was going crazy. It actually took him a lot longer than he predicted. A depressed artist losing his mind in bella Roma. What a cliché.

He turned on a random small alley and stopped when he heard the steps quickened in his direction. This was ridiculous, was this simply a mugger? He waited for them to turn, his heart pounding a bit faster, and caught the smaller man by the collar of his shirt.

'Ömer, wait! Ömer, it's me!' Sinan put his hands on top of his own, trying to take them off of him.

'Fucking hell! Sinan?! What are you doing here? Why are you following me like a damn creep?' It had been some time since they saw each other. More than a year. Shit.