Ayaz POV
Bay view seaside
I’m not sure if it’s this familiar place that drew me back to the bay view during a moment of heavy thoughts, or if it’s the energy—maybe even the negativity—coming from this very spot... or from her. As I stepped out of my car, I noticed a girl walking in my direction. I couldn’t see her face clearly, but something about her felt familiar, though I couldn’t place where or when I had seen her before.
I didn’t have the time—or the energy—to reflect on it too much. Her presence was striking, yes, and different from the rest. But that was all. I walked closer to the edge of the bay and stood there, gazing out at the sea. There’s something about watching the waves—their rhythm seems to connect with the mind, calming every restless thought.
A few minutes passed before I felt her walk behind me. Again, that strange familiarity tugged at me. The whole moment felt like déjà vu, but I didn’t want to tire myself trying to figure it out. Still, I knew she heard me let out a deep sigh—one I didn’t even realize I had released.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her take a seat on the bench beside me. Maybe she just wanted to enjoy the view too—honestly, who could resist the beauty of this place?
I hadn’t even realized I’d sat down so close to her. There’s this energy—something I can’t quite explain—but I’m certain it’s coming from her.
It feels like we’re both adrift on the same ocean, just in different boats. And maybe that’s the beauty of it—we’re floating in the same direction, just living in the moment, being ourselves. Sometimes, it’s easier to be around strangers; they don’t judge you for your past—they only see how you treat them in the present.
I don’t know how long I’ve been sitting here, but I know it’s the same amount of time she’s been beside me. And I like it here. It’s peaceful. No pressure, no small talk—just two souls sharing silence in a beautiful place.
I watched as she stood up and slowly walked away, clearly lost in her thoughts. She moved at a calm, almost deliberate pace, as if savoring each step. Then I noticed something left behind where she had been sitting. On the ground was a piece of cloth—alongside the pharmacy shopping bag. I walked over and picked them up. The cloth turned out to be a handkerchief.
Holding both items, I instinctively wanted to return them. I started walking after her, but I couldn’t just rush up—it would seem strange. So I kept a steady pace, following her from a distance.
It felt a little funny... and honestly, a bit creepy. I’ve never followed someone like this before—I felt like a stalker. It was weird, unfamiliar territory. I glanced inside the pharmacy bag and saw her name, mobile number, and hotel details. She was clearly a tourist.
Part of me wanted to call out her name, but I stopped myself. That would be awkward—and possibly alarming for her. She might think I’m some kind of weirdo. I brought the handkerchief to my nose and inhaled gently. That scent again—faint vanilla mixed with wild daisies. It felt so familiar, like I had smelled it somewhere before. This whole moment felt familiar. The scene, the scent… I just couldn’t place when or where.
I loved the scent of the handkerchief—there was something warm and comforting about it. Acting on impulse, I pulled out my phone and dialed her number. My hands were slightly trembling, and I wasn’t sure why I was so nervous.
She answered, and from the other end came a soft, angelic voice. “Hello, yes? Who is this?”
I paused. For a moment, I considered whether I should tell the truth, but for my own privacy, I decided to make up a name. “I’m Hamze Kara. You’re Nurin Imad, right?”
“Yes. Why?” she asked.
“I have your medicine. You left it behind, and I figured you might need it.”
“Oh, yeah. I totally forgot. Can you just drop it off at the hotel listed on the bag and leave it at the reception? I’ll pick it up from there.”
“Okay.”
“How can I repay you for your kindness?”
“It’s nothing,” I said. “No need.”
“Alright. Thank you again.” Then she hung up.
Just like that, the call ended. But I didn’t stop walking behind her—not to intrude, but just to make sure she got back safely. I didn’t plan to introduce myself properly. After all, it’s likely we’ll never cross paths again.
I just wanted to make sure she was okay. Something inside me was stirred—maybe that part of me that still feels responsible for others’ well-being. Even though I’m caught up in the world of acting, there are moments like this when I remember what it felt like to be a doctor. Maybe all I need is one more push to go back to that part of me.