Hang On Tight

PROLOGUE.

My heart is pounding.

I can literally feel the blood rushing through my veins, pulsating with every firm step he makes down the corridor, slowly approaching the entrance to his glass-clad panoramic office overlooking the Bosphorus.

I never dare going near those floor-to-ceiling glass windows. I'm afraid of heights.
My husband always said that it's all in my head, that I should just ignore the fear and carry on, but the mere thought of it gives me severe anxiety. The feeling of not being in full control of the situation was my worst enemy. I still wonder how I managed to marry a control freak like Demir.
Life is all about compromises. My life is no different.

I was looking for an average paying job near my home. I never had any desire to leave Istanbul, Istanbul was all I've ever known, and I liked it as it is. As restless and as crowded as it was, it was my hometown. Demir wanted us to move somewhere in Europe upon a luxurious job offering, but I refused. If not for his ill mother, I'd be speaking fluent French or German by now and living my boring life as a devoted wife and a mother to one to three hazel-eyed children.

My next door neighbor Ayse, always nosey and usually useless, heard about a secretary job opening in Can Hukuk Bürosu (CHB), one of the leading law firms in Istanbul. She said that the owner of the law firm, Can bey, is a succesful cutthroat criminal defense attorney who pays well, and hardly ever present at the law firm. Perfect! I thought to myself.
I immediately faxed my resume to CHB, and lo and behold, the office manager called me in for an interview.

I quickly gulped down my coffee, fixing my hair and makeup on my compact mirror when Demir stepped into the kitchen.
"Where to?" He asked nonchalantly.
"What do you mean 'where to?' I told you I have an interview in CHB today." I agitatedly replied.
"Oh right, right. I'm sorry. I forgot. Good luck then." He planted a soft kiss on my forhead and said.
I couldn't be mad at him. He worked hard to provide for us, sometimes staying long hours and pulling double shifts far from home. I never fully understood the fine details of his position. His title was worksite engineer, I never asked more, and he never explained.

We've met in Istanbul's University when we were in our early 20's, he was my first boyfriend and the one and only man I've ever made love to. It's kind of funny to even call it "love making." Nothing was exciting or "lovey" about us having sex twice a week, on Tuesday night and on Friday night. Every single week for the past 6 years, sans the times when Demir was working out of town.

It was a pretty ordinary life. I had everything I was raised to believe I should have: a hardworking husband, a house with a mortgage, food in the fridge, a cat and a nosey neighbor. Pretty ordinary life until I met him.

I took an early bus to get to my interview on time. I quickly checked myself out on the bus driver's rear view mirror, squeezed like a sardine amongst a mob of morning people rushing to work. I look decent, I thought to myself. I wore a pair of black pants with a white cami and a black jacket. I went for "formal." I wanted to make a good first impression on this old grandpa.
I didn't really know how old he was, I just assumed he's old based on what my neighbor told me. Succesful huge law firm, tough criminal defense lawyer, he must be old.

Little did I know...