Ayaz's POV
The Secret Haven
After finishing the dishes, I grabbed the paper bag and stepped outside to check on her. I paused at the edge of the pool, watching her as she struggled to take photos. From the way she was holding her phone, I guessed she hadn’t read the photography book yet. This might be a challenge for her—but an interesting one.
Still, she looked adorable trying so hard.
I went back inside, picked up my camera, and followed her trail into the mini-forest.
Quietly, I began snapping candid shots of her each time she paused to photograph a tree. She wandered deeper into the grove, completely absorbed in her surroundings, and I trailed behind, capturing the moment through my lens.
Then she reached the heart of the forest and stopped, mesmerized by the flowers. I smiled—those flowers meant something to me. I had planted many of them myself: native Turkish blooms like Winter Aconite Herbaceous, Snowdrop, Wind Flower, and Lenten Rose. Their subtle fragrances mixed with the forest air, but what struck me most was hers.
She smelled like a flower—wild, sweet, and quietly captivating.
I kept taking stolen shots of her. There was something disarmingly pure about her—innocent, yet bold. That contrast drew me in. She was young, yes, but carried herself with a grace that reminded me of timeless beauty—elegant and modest.
She belonged in any space she entered, and if she didn’t… she made it hers. If she wasn’t strong and sure of herself, she wouldn’t have gotten into my car that day. And that thought made me admire her even more.
I'm genuinely happy to see her enjoying her time here. Watching her marvel at the trees and flowers—things that most people overlook—makes me feel at peace. I love that she appreciates the little things. The world I work in is so loud, so toxic, that even the simplest gifts of nature often go unnoticed. Sometimes, not being recognized as a celebrity feels like a blessing—it reminds me of what it’s like to just be… normal. And I miss that version of myself more than I can say.
As I walked slowly toward her, I was careful not to make any noise. I didn’t want to break the moment she was so quietly immersed in. Then my phone, tucked in my left pocket, vibrated. I sighed, already guessing who it was—Emir.
I answered.
“Where are you? ” he asked.
“I’m still enjoying the beauty of what I’m seeing right now.”
“What? What are you talking about? ”
“I mean… just give me a little more time. I’ll be there. Don’t get too excited.”
I hung up, and right at that moment, she turned and looked at me. That smile—so innocent, so genuine—it caught me off guard. Then her soft voice followed.
“You’re done? ”
“Yes,” I nodded. “If you still want to take your time, don’t rush.”
“No, I’m good,” she said with a smile. “Let’s go.”
She walked back to the house to grab her things, and I quietly followed.
As we stepped out toward my car, I decided to break the silence.
“So… you liked the flowers? ”
“Yes,” she replied, her tone thoughtful. “I mean, we only get one life. So we might as well appreciate the small things around us. You never know what happens after this life. Maybe we go to heaven… maybe hell. If it’s heaven, lucky us—there’ll be even more beautiful flowers there. But what if it’s hell? ”
I fell silent for a moment, struck by the weight of her words.
She had a point.
I opened the car door, slid into the driver’s seat, and watched as she settled into the passenger seat beside me.
She looked thoughtful—distant, even. I had a feeling something was on her mind. I started the engine and glanced her way.
“What’s wrong? ” I asked gently. “You seem quiet… serious. You didn’t like the flowers? ”
She gave me a soft smile. “No, it’s not that. The flowers were beautiful. It’s just… people live, and people die. It all depends on how we choose to live our lives—to experience the most beautiful moments while we’re here. We’re meant to enjoy this life, yes… but we also have to work for the one that comes after. For heaven's sake.”
I didn’t reply immediately. I simply drove, letting her words settle in.
She was being reflective—maybe even philosophical. At first, I thought she was just stating the obvious, but now I realize she wasn’t just thinking out loud—she was visualizing life, its qualities. She knew how to embrace the beauty of the present while staying mindful of the consequences of how we live. That balance—between joy and accountability—was rare. And I admired it.
As we continued on the road, I heard her humming softly. I couldn’t recognize the tune, but the way she hummed—so naturally—it was clear she was in her own peaceful little world.
And that’s when an idea came to me.
Maybe I could take her to the foundation I run. She’d love it there. I could see her exploring music—trying out the piano, maybe the guitar, the drums… even the violin if she wanted. If she was interested, I could teach her how to paint or how to develop and print traditional film photography. She could try everything—every creative path she ever dreamed of.
Whatever she wanted to learn, I could show her.
Honestly, all I wanted at that moment was to give her the world—or at least everything I had to offer—to lift her mood and make her feel inspired, alive… and maybe a little happier than before.