Nurin POV
The Local Sweets
Hamze was on his phone, walking a few steps ahead toward a familiar car. I followed behind, waiting patiently for him to finish his call.
When we reached the car, he opened the passenger door for me. I was caught off guard.
“Hamze, can I talk to you for a second?” I asked.
“Yes,” he replied, “but first, get in.”
So I climbed in, and he walked around to the driver’s side. Once inside, he started the engine and glanced over at me.
“What is it you want to talk about?” he asked.
“I thought you invited me for lunch?”
“I did,” he said with a small smile. “At my place. Don’t worry, I’ll drive you back to your hotel afterward.”
I raised a brow. “And why at your place?”
“Because it’s the only place we can be alone,” he said, still smiling.
He then leaned in—really close, reaching toward the lower-left side of my seat. His face was just inches from mine.
“Excuse me… what are you doing?” I asked, startled.
He gave me a playful grin. “Relax, I’m just buckling you in. For your safety.”
I clamped my mouth shut, too embarrassed to say anything else.
He started driving in silence, but I could feel the tension in the air—a strange blend of nervous energy and something else I couldn’t quite name.
Trying to break the awkward atmosphere, I plugged in my earphones and played "A Whole New World," the version by Zayn and Zhavia Ward. I started humming along softly.
Then, out of nowhere, Ayaz reached over and yanked one earphone out.
“Oh my god, you can’t just pull that out!” I blurted.
He laughed, flashing a sheepish but playful smile. “Sorry,” he said in a lighthearted tone. “I was trying to talk to you earlier. Had to pull the earphones out so you could actually hear me.”
“Oh, right. Sorry,” I replied. “I just thought we were in for a long ride. What were you saying again?”
He kept his eyes on the road. “If you want to explore the countryside a bit, I could help show you around.”
“I think I can manage on my own,” I said politely. “But thanks.”
“I was planning to visit again anyway,” he added. “Figured it’d be more practical—and honestly more enjoyable—if we did the trip together.”
“Why do you want to go back to the countryside?” I asked.
“I just got out of military service,” he replied. “I miss the quiet. I want to relax a little before going back to work.”
“Oh. Okay.”
A quiet pause settled between us. I wasn’t sure how to bridge the gap, but the awkwardness still lingered—unspoken but present. I could sense he felt it too, though he masked it well.
A few minutes passed before he broke the silence.
“I could teach you a thing or two about photography,” he offered casually.
“I’m actually a bit of a pro. I can give you some solid tips.”
“Really? And what do you want in return?”
He smirked. “I think you already know the answer to that.”
“No, I really don’t.”
“This trip,” he said simply.
Another stretch of quiet filled the car as we continued driving. Eventually, we arrived at a large wooden gate that opened automatically. As we drove through and into the garage, I couldn’t help but admire the house.
The architecture was stunning—clearly inspired by the countryside he loved so much. A blend of warm wood and sleek glass gave the house a touch of elegance and rustic charm.
But what truly captivated me was the interior. It felt thoughtfully designed, like every piece was custom-made. You could see how much of himself he’d poured into the space.
I stood in what I assumed was the living room. From where I was, I had a clear view of the wide, pristine swimming pool. To my left, there was a small patch of forest—almost like a private grove—and I could hear the soothing sound of running water, possibly a stream or small river. The house was breathtaking, but I reminded myself not to get too caught up in admiring it.
A few moments later, I saw Hamze disappear through a doorway on the right side of the hallway we had entered from. He returned shortly after, holding a book in his hand.
“You can have this,” he said, handing it to me. “Start reading the basics. I’ll teach you the rest through practice.”
I took the book and read the cover: The Basics in Photography by Ayaz Ermerizt. I smiled. “Thank you. I’ll return it once I’m done reading.”
“No,” he replied. “Give it back to me when you come back to Turkey.”
He turned and walked into the kitchen. I followed. “But I’m not sure if I’ll ever be back here,” I said honestly.
He didn’t respond immediately. He opened the fridge, pulled out a bottle of water, and took a long drink. After finishing, he finally answered.
“Why not? Water?” he offered.
“No, thanks,” I said. “It’s just that… we’re not really in control of our lives. We don’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow.”
He walked back into the living room, and I followed him again.
“Exactly,” he said. “But that’s why tomorrow is a gift—to prepare for it. We can only do what we can today so we don’t regret it later.”
I stayed quiet, unsure of how to respond.
“You’re making this difficult,” I admitted.
“No, I’m not,” he said with a smirk. “You said you love it here. So, do your best to come back.”
He paused at the hallway.
“I’m going to shower and grab a few things. After that, I’ll make lunch. If you get bored, start reading that book. And don’t leave.”
I nodded.
“Because I can’t let you out of my sight,” he added with a playful grin before disappearing down the hallway.
I sat down on the couch and began reading the book he gave me. I managed to finish two pages before my stomach began to grumble. I was really starting to feel hungry. Unable to wait, I wandered into the kitchen to see if I could find something small to eat to tide me over.