I stare down at my hands. "When I lost him, when I woke up and our son was gone... I was so angry. At myself, at the world. But most of all, at you." My voice trembles. "I blamed you for not being there, for not saving him."
Kaan's face crumples, pain etched in every line. "Neslihan, I... I had no choice. You were both dying."
Tears stream down my face unchecked. "I know. Gods, I know. But it hurt so much, Kaan. It still hurts. To know our boy is gone forever."
He reaches for my hand, gripping it like a lifeline. "I couldn't save you both. I tried, I swear I tried. But in the end... I had to choose." His voice breaks. "I chose you, Neslihan. Because a world without you in it is no world at all."
A sob wrenches from my throat. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I blamed you. I'm sorry I pushed you away. I was drowning in my own grief and I took it out on you."
He cups my face with his free hand, thumb brushing away my tears. "You have nothing to apologize for. We both lost a piece of our hearts that day. I should have been there for you, should have helped you carry that burden."
I lean into his touch, eyes fluttering closed. "I miss him, Kaan. I miss our son so much."
"I know,hatun. I miss him too. Every second of every day." He presses his forehead to mine, breath shuddering. "But we'll get through this together. No more walls between us. No more unspoken pain. We'll honor his memory by living, truly living."
I nod against him, fresh tears spilling over.
We cling to each other as grief crashes over us anew, raw and terrible. But there's comfort too, in sharing this agony. In knowing neither of us is alone.
After a few moments, I pull back, swiping at my damp cheeks.
A knock at the door makes us both start. "Come in," I call, voice hoarse with tears.
The servants enter with our dinner, filling the room with tantalizing aromas.
I’m not sure I’m ready for food, instead I take a swallow of wine and when I glance up Kaan is watching me, the mixture of pain and happiness is such an odd contrast on his face. I want to say something but a steaming plate of food is placed in front of me.
“Thank you.” I say to the server.
I glance down at my plate, roasted lamb with herbs, jeweled rice. It looks appetizing. The servers arrange everything on the table without speaking a word, and after they refill our wine they withdraw leaving us alone.
I peek up at Kaan again from under my lashes to find him still watching me. I feel something ease in my chest. The wound is still there, jagged and aching. It may never fully heal.
But for the first time since I woke to a world without my son, I feel a whisper of peace. Of hope.
"This looks amazing," Kaan says, breaking eye contact and he inhales appreciatively. "I'm starving."
"Me too. Crying really works up an appetite." I spear a bite of tender lamb.
He snorts. "Ever the romantic."
"You love me for it." I bat my lashes at him.
"I do." His gaze is warm, affectionate. "Though your taste in weather conversation could use some work..."
I throw my napkin at him with mock outrage. "I'll have you know I am a scintillating conversationalist!"
He smirks. "Oh really? Do tell me more about our 'consistently nice' magically regulated weather..."
We both burst out laughing, the tension of the past few minutes dissolving. As we tuck into the delicious meal, trading quips and lighthearted jabs, I feel a knot inside me loosen.
We still have so much to work through, Kaan and I. So many wounds to heal. But for the first time in a long time, I feel aflicker of hope. That maybe, just maybe, we can find our way back to each other.
And that feels as close to a miracle as the magic thrumming in my veins.
His bruise catches the candlelight—the one marring his cheekbone from his fight with Yasar. A violent reminder of all the fractures between them. Between us.
I rise from my chair and walk around the table. My healer instincts are taking over. He watches me, every muscle alert, but he doesn’t pull away when I lift my hand and touch the damaged skin.
