annah_76
- Reads 172
- Votes 16
- Parts 32
Rayan has always believed in silence. In the space between words. In the quiet ache that lingers long after someone leaves. But on the morning of Raha's birthday, everything shifts. Haunted by the echo of her smile in a dream, he prays under a London sky and boards a plane to Turkey - chasing a pull he doesn't fully understand.
Ayla, a gentle soul tangled in clumsy hands and unspoken faith, is painting her way through life at an orphanage in Konya, where forgotten bells still remember the footsteps of saints and poets.
And somewhere between ancient shrines and fading prayer calls, between longing glances and untold stories, their paths begin to intertwine - carried by a wind that remembers everything.
She wasn't exactly her. But the way the light held her-soft, forgiving-Rayan couldn't look away. His heart, once quiet, thumped against his ribs like it had woken from a deep sleep.
POV: "Why does she look so familiar?"
The question looped like prayer beads through his thoughts.
POV: "Why does my heart beat... after so long?"
He didn't mean to stare. He didn't even know he was. Until she turned.
Her eyes caught his-just for a second-and the world held its breath.
"Why do you look at me like that?" Ayla asked, voice gentle, but not afraid. She tilted her head, confused, curious.
Rayan swallowed the lump in his throat.
"Because you remind me of someone."
A pause.
"Someone I lost."