Nurin POV
Elysium Art Residence Bomonti
A few hours had passed, and to be honest, I wasn’t exactly excited about the dinner with Emir. I was going mostly out of courtesy—to return the favor after not showing up the night before.
After a quick shower, I rushed to my closet, scanning for something I could wear that might help me glow a little… but honestly, I didn’t feel like trying too hard.
I pulled out a pair of white inner tights and a below-the-knee loose denim dress, embroidered with delicate flowers along the pocket seams. It was simple, comfortable—just enough. From my drawer, I took out my slightly worn, off-white veil and laid it neatly on the bed.
Then I sat down at my vanity and applied some light makeup. This wasn’t a date, so there was no need for anything bold. Just a bit of pressed powder and lip gloss to freshen up.
After the final touches, I glanced at the clock—it was 6:30 PM. Thirty minutes before our scheduled meet-up.
I grabbed my phone from the side table, slung my small bag over my shoulder, and stepped out of the room.
Inside the elevator, I pressed the button for the first floor and took a slow breath, trying to keep myself calm and relaxed.
But even in that quiet moment, I noticed something small—I was wiggling my toes inside my shoes. A nervous habit, hidden from view but impossible to ignore.
And strangely, my thoughts weren’t on Emir.
They were on Hamze.
There’s just something about him—something I can’t quite read. Mysterious, yes, but not in the cold or distant way. He’s open, vocal even… and still, there’s a part of him that feels unreadable. And maybe that’s exactly why he lingers in my thoughts.
As soon as the elevator doors slid open, I stepped out and made my way toward the restaurant. Just a few steps in, my phone buzzed with a message from Hamze:
"I'm heading to the countryside. If you ever feel like joining me and seeing it all for yourself, I’ll be waiting where you left your medicine. I’ll be there at 8:00 PM—I will leave at 9:00 AM. If you don’t come, I’m not sure we’ll ever see each other again."
A sharp pain pierced through my chest as I read his words. It felt like something inside me was being pricked, delicate and aching.
I couldn’t quite define what I was feeling. The only thing I knew for certain was that I wanted to see Hamze again—no reason, just a pull I couldn't ignore. But I was torn. I already felt guilty for not meeting Emir as promised. Doing it again would only deepen that guilt. And yet, if I didn’t go to Ayaz, I knew I would live with the regret.
In the end, I knew I had to meet Emir—at least to say goodbye on good terms. I didn’t want to give him the wrong impression, but I also didn’t want to hurt his pride. There’s a fine line between being polite and being clear.
As I stepped into the restaurant, I spotted a man with a warm, inviting smile. He was seated in the left corner, watching me in a way that made me feel strangely uneasy. As he stood up slowly to greet me, a sudden image flickered in my mind—him.
I walked over to his table and gave a small nod. Emir looked up and said,
“Salam, Nurin. I thought you were going to stand me up again. I was a little anxious you might not show.”
I smiled politely and took my seat.
“How could I not? I was the one who set this meeting,” I replied.
He sat back down with a half-smile, tinged with sarcasm. After a brief pause, he added, “I didn’t know we were calling this a meeting now. Alright then—let’s get it over with.” He signaled for the waiter.
A moment later, the waiter arrived with the menus. He handed one to me first, then to Emir.
While Emir scanned the menu, I watched him silently. His furrowed brows suggested he might be upset. Maybe he was disappointed that I’d framed this as a meeting instead of a dinner date. But in my mind, this wasn’t a date—it never was.
“Nurin, what would you like for dinner? ” he asked. I hesitated, still distracted. My eyes dropped to the menu, but nothing stood out.
“Honestly, anything here is fine, except seafood—I’m allergic. And of course, no pork or alcohol; those are off-limits,” I explained.
“Then I’ll order for you. Is that okay? ” he offered.
I nodded quickly and gave him a faint smile. Emir looked up and placed the order with the waiter without another word.
I could barely make out what Emir was saying—his voice was soft, maybe on purpose, perhaps trying to be gentle or even impress me. Still, my mind was elsewhere. The message from Hamze kept replaying in my thoughts, making me anxious. I wanted to meet him at that place, yet at the same time, I didn’t want to come across as someone too eager or easy to win over.
Sharing laughs with Emir helped ease the tension. Our conversation flowed, and I was glad he didn’t make me wait too long for the food. We joked and laughed together—he seemed to enjoy my humor, and I found his jokes amusing, too. But when silence settled between us, I could feel something missing. Maybe it was the lack of a deeper connection.
After a few more minutes, our dinner finally arrived. Emir had ordered a salmon steak with buttermilk and a fresh fruit salad for me—it looked like the fruits had just been picked from a farm. I usually don’t eat grilled meat, but I appreciated the gesture. For himself, he chose a medium-rare beefsteak and a Black Forest ice cream. Then came two glasses of red wine, one for each of us.
The meal was peaceful, but my thoughts wouldn’t stop drifting back to Hamze. There was something between us—a connection I couldn’t ignore. I was grateful to see a glass of water already on the table. I reached for it and took a sip, trying to compose myself. But then I glanced at my watch. It was already 9:15 P.M.
“I’m sorry, Emir. This has been a lovely dinner, but I have to go. There’s somewhere I need to be.”
I didn’t even wait for his reply. I got up, turned around, and rushed to the exit.