Ayaz's POV
The Secret Haven
I’m not sure if I’m coming off as creepy or intense, but I think she understands what I’m trying to say—or rather, what I’m not saying out loud. I just want to keep her here a little longer… at least for lunch. If this turns into a disaster, then maybe I’ve really messed things up.
As I stepped into my room, I headed straight to the shower. I turned on the hot and cold taps, letting the water cascade down from my head to my shoulders and over the rest of my body.
This wasn’t about fantasizing. It wasn’t lust. There’s just... something between us. A strange but comforting connection. It’s hard to explain. My heart’s racing, but not out of fear—it’s more like a nervous excitement that somehow feels good.
Just a few minutes. Shampoo. Body wash. I needed to smell fresh and look put-together. Not because I’m a messy person, but because… I wanted to impress her.
I heard my phone ringing from outside the bathroom. It had to be Emir—probably calling to check in about the outfit he’s borrowing. I grabbed a towel, dried off quickly, wrapped it around my waist, and picked up the phone to answer.
“Yes, Emir? ” I answered.
He burst into laughter on the other end. “Sorry, I’m just… kind of excited and nervous at the same time.”
“Don’t be. Sounds like you’ve got another chance.”
“Yeah, actually—she left me a note. We’re having dinner tonight.”
“Well, that’s great. Looks like we’re both on the same path.”
“Really? You have a date tonight too? ”
“No,” I replied with a chuckle. “I’m already on a date—right here, at my place.”
“Ah, some quality time, huh? Why don’t you both join me for dinner tonight? ”
“I don’t want to rush anything,” I said. “I’ve got time. I want to build trust first.”
There was a pause, then Emir asked, “Hey, what perfume do you use? I like the one you wore last time. Can I get a recommendation? Something that’s not too strong, but enough to make a girl melt from the scent? ”
I laughed lightly. “Okay. Anything else? ”
“Nope, that’s it. Thanks, man. I knew I could count on you.”
We both hung up.
I headed to my closet to pick out something for Emir. It was clear—he wanted to make a strong impression tonight.
For his dinner date, I chose a crisp white long-sleeved polo shirt, paired with a gray blazer, blue pants, and brown leather shoes. A clean, sharp look—elegant but not too flashy. Let’s see if she can resist that.
I folded everything neatly and placed it into a paper bag to keep it all together. Then I grabbed one of my favorite colognes: Paco Rabanne Invictus—the one I reserve for formal dinners. It’s refined and not overpowering, just enough to leave a lasting impression.
Everything was ready for Emir’s dinner tonight—now it was time for me to figure out what to wear today.
I returned to my closet, unsure of what to pick. This was tricky. I didn’t want to look like I was trying too hard. If I made it too obvious, I might end up making her feel awkward. Subtle was better.
I settled on a clean white t-shirt and my salmon-brown pants—simple, but sharp. I gave myself a quick spray of Bleu de Chanel and slipped into my blue Sperry Top-Sider Wild Horse shoes. That should do the trick.
The final touch: I grabbed my leather jacket from the closet, picked up the paper bag with Emir’s outfit, and stepped out of my room.
As I made my way toward the kitchen, an incredible aroma hit me—something was cooking, and it smelled amazing. My stomach instantly reacted, and I felt a wave of hunger wash over me. The scent wasn’t just good—it was mouthwatering.
The closer I got, the hungrier I became. When I reached the open kitchen door, I stopped in my tracks.
There she was.
Nurin—standing in my kitchen, cooking like she belonged there. She moved with ease and focus, like a wife preparing a meal at home. It was such a simple sight, yet it hit me deeply. This was something I had always quietly wished for: someone who would turn a house into a home.
A full-time partner, someone who cared, who stayed—not a fantasy, but a life you work for. And yet, for people like us… that kind of life doesn’t come easily. Not in an instant.
She looked up at me with a smile—but the moment she saw me standing there, that easy smile faltered, shifting into something more nervous.
“Hamze, I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “I hope you don’t mind that I used your kitchen. I was just a bit hungry and couldn’t wait any longer.”
“No, it’s not a problem at all,” I replied with a soft smile. “It’s my pleasure. Honestly, I don’t usually bring anyone here—so no one ever cooks in my kitchen.”
“Thank you,” she said, relief in her voice. “This won’t take long.”
“Take your time,” I told her. “I’ll set the table.”
I grabbed two placemats and laid them out—one on each side of the table. Then I took two glasses and filled them with the drink she had made earlier, placing them neatly by the mats. I added two sets of utensils—spoons and forks—then grabbed two bottles of water from the fridge and placed them on the table as well.
Once everything was ready, I turned to her. “Do you need help? ”
She looked at me and smiled—and that smile stopped me in my tracks.
Something about it made my heart race. I couldn’t remember the last time I felt anything like this. Maybe I’d never felt it before. All I knew was that this… this felt new. And real.