Ayaz's POV
 
It was 6 A.M., and I had barely gotten any sleep. Maybe I couldn’t sleep because of the excitement—or maybe it was the anxiety—but one thing was clear: I didn’t want to ruin this moment. She’d be leaving Turkey soon, and I wanted her to carry beautiful memories of this country with her—how breathtaking it is, how magical, how warm and welcoming it feels to the eyes and heart.
 
I never imagined I’d be this excited for a road trip, more than I ever had before. I thought about inviting Emir, maybe to help him recover after being left behind by a girl—but deep down, I knew it would ruin the energy. So, for once, I chose to be selfish. This was our moment, and I didn’t want to share it.
 
Since I packed everything the night before, I hit the road early. Watching the sunrise while driving felt peaceful.
 
By 6:45 A.M., I was already waiting in the parking lot, leaning casually against my car. Then I saw her. That lovely face appeared—but something was off. Her skin was pale, almost unnaturally so. Even her bright, charming smile couldn’t mask how tired she looked.
 
I walked over and took her travel bag without saying much. After opening the passenger door for her, I moved to the back and placed her bag in the trunk. I got into the driver’s seat and started the car.
 
The first five minutes were filled with silence, and it was unbearable. I couldn’t take it any longer.
 
“Nurin, are you okay? You look really pale. If you want, I can take you to the hospital. We don’t have to go through with this trip.”
 
She turned to me with a calm voice, “I’m fine. I just didn’t get enough sleep. I’m anemic and forgot to take my iron supplement. Also, I rebooked my flight—it’s now earlier than originally planned.”
 
That last part hit me hard—she’d be leaving sooner than I thought. I wanted to make the most of the time we had left, but a wave of guilt washed over me. Something didn’t feel right. Something about her—her energy, her quietness—made me uneasy.
 
I pulled over and handed her a bottle of water from my camping bag so she could take her vitamins. But having worked as a physician for quite some time, I could tell there was more going on. She didn’t just seem anemic—there was something else.
 
I watched as she reached into her bag and took out a small medicine kit. Inside were four different medications. God only knows what they were for. I pretended not to recognize any of them, even though I did.
 
We stayed parked for a short while—long enough for her to catch her breath and regain a bit of energy. I hoped she had eaten earlier, because judging by the strength of those medications, taking them on an empty stomach could be dangerous.
“Aren’t those meds a bit strong to take without eating? ” I asked.
 
“I had breakfast before we met up. Didn’t you? ” she replied.
 
“It’s fine,” I said. “There’s a roadside restaurant just a few minutes from here. We can stop for an early lunch. I want to make sure you’ve got enough energy to keep going.”
 
“I’m alright,” she said with a small smile. “But I do have to be careful with what I eat—my digestion is pretty sensitive.”
 
I nodded and started driving again, keeping an eye out for a nearby restaurant. After a few minutes, I spotted a small roadside place known for serving some of the best Turkish pide around. But before pulling in, I turned to Nurin—I had to ask if she was okay with eating from a modest local spot like this one.
 
“Do you even eat at places like this? ” I asked.
 
She smirked and replied, “Are you kidding? I eat all kinds of pastries. I love pastries.”
 
Without hesitation, she hopped out of the car, hurried inside, and grabbed a seat. The moment she sat down, she looked at me and asked, “How do you say, ‘How much for the tastiest Turkish pide?’ ”
 
I chuckled and turned to the staff, calling out, “En lezzetli pide ne kadar? ”
One of the crew members replied, replied,“Bir yemek için sadece 20 Türk lirası.”
("Just 20 Turkish lira for a meal.")
 
I placed an order for both of us, choosing the most popular items on the menu. I had a good feeling she’d enjoy them.
 
Nurin POV
 
As soon as Ayaz finished placing the order and the crew walked away, I jumped in, “I didn’t catch everything you said to him, but I’m pretty sure the answer to my question was 20 Turkish lira, right? ”
 
He nodded, confirming I was right.
 
Then he just sat there, quietly looking into my eyes—as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. To fill the silence, I kept talking. I told him stories about my life back home, trying to keep things light and entertaining. What I didn’t share, though, was the truth I’d been hiding for quite some time—that I’ve been sick. That even though my sister Nuha and I are close, we argue a lot.
 
Still, Ayaz sat there patiently, listening. Whether what I said made sense or not, he didn’t interrupt. He simply listened, and somehow that comforted me.
 
But deep inside, I wasn’t sure what I was doing or why I had agreed to this road trip in the first place. What was I thinking? I’ve never trusted people easily—especially not in a foreign country. I had promised my parents I wouldn’t take risks like this.
 
Yet here I was. On a road trip with a guy I barely knew. He seemed genuine, kind—maybe even trustworthy—but I reminded myself: we’re still strangers, just pretending not to be.