Emir POV
Elysium Art Residence Bomonti
It was already 8:00 p.m., and dinner was over. She didn’t show up—clearly, she had no intention of coming. After settling the bill, I took the bouquet of roses with me, feeling a wave of disappointment. I wasn’t angry at her—I understood. Still, maybe it was just my ego struggling to accept that I’d been stood up.
A few minutes passed as I rode the elevator back up. Floor after floor, not a single tenant got on. It was as if the quiet, empty ride matched my mood perfectly.
When I reached the 11th floor, I stepped out with the bouquet still in hand. I had bought these flowers for her, and I still wanted her to have them—but part of me was hesitant. What if she just threw them away? That thought alone made it hard to knock on her door.
 With every step I took toward our rooms, my breath grew heavier. When I finally stopped in front of her door—just across from mine—I froze.
This is it, I told myself. Just take a deep breath and knock.
I stood there, inhaled deeply for ten full seconds, trying to summon the courage.
“Alright, Emir,” I whispered, “just lift your hand to face level, make a fist, and knock three times.”
 And so I did. I knocked.
But silence.
Not a sound came from inside—not even the faintest movement, as if the entire room were empty or asleep. Not even a cockroach dared to stir. I stood there, waiting, but nothing happened. I couldn’t bring myself to knock again.
Disappointed, I gently placed the bouquet on the floor right at her door. At least she’ll see it when she opens it, I thought.
I turned back, entered my room, and collapsed onto the bed. My mind was blank—except for thoughts of her. It was driving me mad.
Why is it so hard just to share one simple dinner with her?
About 15 minutes after I’d laid down, my phone started ringing—it was my buddy Ayaz. I answered, “Yes, Ayaz. What do you want?”
“I’m guessing you got dumped,” he said. “Come have a drink. I’m in the lobby—I’ll wait for you at the bar. They’ve got a great setup here, so no need to head out.”
“Alright, I just got back to my room. You could’ve called me earlier.”
“I wasn’t planning on coming, but somehow my feet brought me here. I’ll see you at the bar. Let’s grab a drink.”
I hung up and quickly got up to leave. As I locked the door behind me, I noticed a sticky note stuck to it—and the bouquet I had left in front of her door was gone. She must’ve taken it.
I didn’t stop to read the note—figured I’d check it later when I got back.
Nurin POV
Elysium Art Residence Bomonti
As I reached the hotel entrance, I hurried straight to the restaurant, hoping to catch a glimpse of Emir. I just wanted to see if he was still there. I walked up to the cashier and asked, “Is there a reservation for two under the name Emir Dogan?”
The cashier paused for a few seconds to check the system, then replied, “Yes, he just settled the bill.”
“Oh. Thank you,” I said quietly.
I wasn’t exactly disappointed—just… guilty. That dinner was supposed to be shared. It was his way of making peace, and I had left him to eat alone.
As I made my way back down the hallway, I stopped by the reception desk. “Hello, miss. If someone comes by and leaves something for me, could you please call my room?”
“May I have your name, please?”
“Ms. Nurin Imad, room 112. Thank you.”
She gave a polite smile. “Actually, it’s already here. Someone dropped it off just a few minutes ago.”
“Thank you,” I said, accepting the item she handed me.
I headed straight for the elevator, my thoughts in a whirlwind. I wasn’t sure if he had expected me to come or not—but missing that dinner still filled me with guilt. My emotions were tangled, and my mind felt completely out of sync.
I reached the 11th floor, and as the elevator doors opened, I suddenly felt the urge to apologize to him—even if he had been a bit annoying when we first met. I wasn’t sure what to say, or how to start. It's not really like me to make the first move in conversations, especially with guys.
As I stood in front of my room, I noticed a bouquet of red roses waiting by the door. I picked it up and saw the note attached: Nurin, my sincere apology earlier. Can you forgive me? – Emir.
Reading it made me feel even more guilty for not showing up. I should have at least let him know I wasn’t coming. But I’ve never been the kind of person who communicates easily with men—it’s just not part of my usual behavior.
Still, I wanted to return the gesture. I reached into my bag, pulled out a sticky note and a blue ballpoint pen, and wrote: Emir, thank you for the flowers. Apology accepted. To return the favor, let’s have dinner tomorrow night—same time. —Nurin
I placed the note gently on his door, making sure it would be easy for him to see the moment he came out.
I entered my room, sat on the bed, and picked up the phone to call reception.
“Good evening, how may I help you?” the receptionist answered.
“This is Ms. Nurin Imad from Room 112. Could you connect me to the restaurant? I’d like to place a dinner order.”
“No problem, ma’am. I can take the order for you.”
“Great, thank you. I’d like one shawarma, a side of coleslaw, Turkish tea, lemonade, and a bottle of water.”
“Is that all, ma’am? How would you like to pay—cash, card, or should I add it to your room bill?”
“Please charge it to my room. I’ll settle the total later.”
“Noted. Your dinner will arrive in about 30 minutes.”
After the call, I headed to the bathroom for a quick shower while waiting. Ten minutes would be enough to refresh.