Omer waited patiently for an answer. The woman hesitated as if she could not decide whether to let him in or not. But, looking sideways at curious neighbors, she nevertheless stepped aside and invited the guest to the house. The dwelling was like Defne's former, temporary apartment. The same small, modest and spotlessly clean. The only difference was the bright, artless, hanging on the walls drawings that no doubt indicated that children live here. They were not slow to show their presence. Two cute, curious faces peered out from the door of the living room. The girls were eight to nine years old. Pretty, with curly hair twins with eyes as blue as those of mom and their brother looked at the guest with interest.

"Run to your room, sparrows," their mother told them softly smiling, and closing the door tightly behind them, invited Omer to go into the living room.

Omer stopped in the middle of the room. At the hostess's offer to sit down, he shook his head and remained standing.

"I'm not for long," he explained. "Sorry, this is impolite ... you are such an important person in our life with Defne, and I don't even know what your name is."

- Mirai. My name is Mirai," the woman replied. "Glad to meet you, Madame Mirai." And I am Omer Iplikci.

"I know who you are," she said softly.

"It is logical," Omer agreed and, with a nervous movement ruffling the hair on his nape, he spoke of what had brought him here. "Madam Mirai, you have raised a wonderful son, to whom I am in unpaid debt." And I ... more precisely, Defne and I would like to take part in his fate. Firstly, in Passionis there is work for him. We need a courier. 2-3 hours after classes will not become overstrain for him, and the salary will be quite decent. Secondly - if I understand correctly, Mert is seventeen and he graduates from school in the spring? - Mirai nodded warily. - Passionis will pay him tuition at any university in Istanbul with the condition that after graduation he will come to work with us.

A timid, incredulous smile appeared on the woman's tired face.

"Are you going to do what you say?"

- Yes! - Without a shadow of a doubt, Omer answered. - Such guys as Mert are one in a million and he must have a decent, happy life. Like you, Madame Mirai. And the girls. Tell me, have you always worked as a waitress?

She closed her eyes and shook her head. She was scared, very scared to answer honestly. But this person is special. Not like everyone else. She saw it then, on the roof. He did not care about male pride and possible shame. He defended his woman. Her feelings, her life was most important to him. Perhaps he will understand her, Mirai, and not condemn her.

"Come on, you still have a seat," she nodded at the old corner sofa. And when Omer sat down, went to the window and, looking at the street, began the story: - I grew up in a wealthy family. And I was able to get an education. I studied in university, management. But I did not have to work. Immediately after graduation, I got married. Then Mert was born, and after eight years, girls. My husband had his own company and we did not need money. And then a terrible thing happened - Mirai slouched and covered her face with her hands.

"You were raped," Omer did not ask, but stated a fact. - I understood this from your words and behavior there, on the roof.

She sighed frantically and nodded her head. Slowly she removed her hands from her face and confirmed his words:

"Yes ... My husband's partner ... on vacation in Bodrum." And then he accused me of what happened ... blaming me for seducing him.

The shocked Omer looked at her and did not believe his ears.

- And your husband? - He asked when the pause dragged on.

Mirai grinned bitterly.

- My husband believed his partner. He called me a libertine ... doubted his paternity and drove us out with the children into the street. My father supported him. I was not allowed on the threshold. He said that I disgraced the family and he no longer has a daughter. I tried to fight, to prove my innocence, but only made it worse. The paparazzi press аttacked me like vultures. People on the street poked their fingers at me and called, - she fell silent and only sighed frantically.

Omer, and without her words, guessed what she was called.

- I had no choice. And there was no money either. There were Mert and one-year-old babies in my arms. We left the familiar world and moved here, in the neighborhood, where no one knew us. Getting a job by profession was unrealistic. Yes, I did not want this. I wanted to become invisible to everyone. But it was necessary to raise children, and I undertook any work. ... That's the whole story.

"A terrible story," Omer spoke, digesting what he heard. "How did you manage to survive and deal with betrayal and devastation?"

"The children helped," Mirai simply answered. "They needed love, care, and a smiling mother."

"You are an incredible person," said Omer, from all his heart.

"Now I know where Mert has this nobility and concern for loved ones." Defne and I will try to help you find a decent job and other housing. Stop hiding in your shell. It's time to regain the life you deserve.

"Thank you," the woman's eyes brightened and sparkled like seawater in the sun.

Omer got up from the couch and, bowing his head, said goodbye.

"All the best, Madame Mirai." Waiting for Mеrt tomorrow afternoon in Passionis. See you later.

With a firm step, he went to the door and was almost at the threshold when the woman called him:

- Mr. Omer!

He looked around. She wrung her fingers, and the traces of the inner struggle were reflected on her face. Quickly licking her dry lips, she spoke:

"I want to say ... Defne was very lucky with her husband." Such as you in the world are few. But ... do you understand how hard it is for her now?

" I realize," he looked into her eyes.

"Then surround her with care." Show that your love is limitless and it will not be destroyed by the creeps of an obsessed bastard. Do not insist on intimacy, but give her warmth and tenderness. She needs it now. Be a man. Let her feel protected! - She fell silent and smiled guiltily. - I'm sorry that I loaded you with advice ... I just want what happened to not break Defne and not ruin your life.

Omer did not doubt her sincerity and good intentions. And he was grateful to her. He just could not say this - his throat was seized with a spasm. He nodded silently and went outside.

Serious and thoughtful, not even looking at the local gossipers, walked past them and got into the car.

"Sukru, to the office," he ordered, and tiredly put his head back at the seat.

***

- Hello!

Defne raised a surprised face to him and smiled.

- Omer? You did not say that you were going to come. Did something happen?

He went up to her and softly kissed the temple near the corner of her eye. There was no hint of passion in the kiss. Only tenderness and warmth.

"I missed you," he looked into her eyes and rubbed his nose against her nose. - I wanted to see you so much.

Light flashed in her sad, honey-brown eyes. She shyly touched the bristle on his chin. Then she pulled her hand away. But Omer caught it. He kissed the middle and pressed it to his cheek. Sitting on the table, he closed his eyes with pleasure.

- How good ... Your touch returns me strength.

- Tired? Defne asked sympathetically, and at the very heart, like someone shed warm honey. Breathing became freer, and the void narrowed its borders a little more.

"Very," he complained. "But I will stay with you a little, breathe in your scent," he put his nose a centimeter from her neck, "and I will feel better right away." And if you say that you love me, all fatigue will be taken off like magic.

"I love you," Defne said in a deep, tender voice, barely audible.

Omer smiled. Gently hugged and leaned her red head against his chest.

"My soul," he said, stroking her hair. - Let's go now to your relatives? Let's play with baby Iso, talk with your grandmother, and you gossip with Nihan. We can go to the big Iso. You haven't seen him for a long time.

Defne pulled away and her face seemed to lock. She shook her head and answered:

- I do not want to.

- Why?

She looked at her hands and looked away.

- Never mind. Let us change the subject. Please.

Omer did not want to change the subject. He wanted to know why Defne didn't want to go to her family, why she was withdrawing into herself but did not insist. He stopped himself, recalling that his beloved suffered psychological trauma and needed time to survive this and let go of the situation. He did not start to argue. He looked into the amber, wary eyes, smiled softly and agreed:

"Good, my love." Then how do you want to spend the evening?

"Let's go to the movies," Defne asked, and shrugged embarrassedly. - We never went to the cinema.

Damn! They had never gone to the movies. They hadn't eaten ice cream in the park nor had ridden in the car in the night city. They hadn't kissed in the cabin of the Ferris wheel when it rose to the highest point and hovered above the city. How much they hadn't done that is part of the life of ordinary lovers. Omer was ashamed. He averted his eyes.

- Good. Which movie do you want to watch? - asked and looked down at the table. His palm lay on top of the drawings. He took them in his hands and the first glance cast at the sketch made his heart beating fast.

"Something light and life-affirming," Defne answered and froze, watching Omer's face.

He watched the drawings. Sketches of jewelry that she painted, trying to erase from her head the memories of a nauseous smell, lustful gleam of the bluish eyes and dirty, clammy hands that left invisible to others but obvious traces on her body. Defne could not wash them off, no matter how she tried. But when she drew, these memories left, and again she felt normal.

"Defne," breathed Omer. - It's awesome! You, of course, are a great designer of shoes, but this ... You are brilliant!

"You flatter me," she was embarrassed. "You say what I want to hear."

- Not at all! I'm telling the truth. If you do not believe me - let's show the sketches to a good jeweler.

- What if he says that they are stupid, not interesting and amateurish?

"Let him try!" - mentally threatened Omer, but said aloud:

- Amateur? Honey, are you of such a bad opinion about my taste?

Defne hesitated. But Omer spoke so confidently that it was simply impossible to not believe him.

"Well, if you think so," she said, and he blossomed in a smile.

- Well! I have in mind one jewelry master. We studied together in Italy. I'll call and make an appointment. And now - we are going to the cinema. On a romantic comedy. "He winked and smiled conspiratorially. "But first, we'll stop by for dinner." In a Chinese restaurant.

He jumped off the table and pulled Defne's hand away from the office.

- Chinese? She said doubtfully. On the move, she pulled her purse off the hanger and threw it on her shoulder and hurried after her husband. - Are you sure? Maybe something more traditional?

- No no! - He walked with wide steps along the corridor. Defne barely had time to run after him and comprehend his quick speech. - Today we send to hell with tradition! We will have for dinner a Peking duck, will watch a French film, drive the car around the city at night and arrange a date on the roof of a skyscraper.

Defne stopped and Omer stopped after her.

- On the roof? - she turned pale.

He carefully took her face in the palm of his hand. Looking into her eyes and promising to become a glass dome above her and a cocoon of soft cotton, he confirmed:

- On the roof, my love. We will replace scary memories with happy ones.

Omer kept his promise.

The Peking duck turned out to be very tasty. For the first time in several days, Defne ate with appetite and enjoyed every bite. And Omer enjoyed the fact that the void in the eyes of his beloved girl dispersed and gave way to her usual liveliness. She smiles again and did not cringe like a frightened kitten when he, lightly, as if by chance, touched her hand or hair.

In the cinema, when the light went out in the hall, Omer hugged his wife and she confidentially laid her head on his shoulder. They watched at the screen, where the cheerful and witty Frenchmen so funny and touching understood the intricacies of their relationship and had fun with all their heart. Defne really forgot. About shame. About fear. About self-loathing. She just sat with her husband in the cinema and felt loved and protected.

But when the film ended, and they went out into the lobby, Defne caught the interested look of an unfamiliar man and all the emotions that had disappeared returned with renewed vigor and got to her.

Omer felt her stiffen and her palm become ice cold in his hand. Looking at Defne, who was shrinking into a prickly ball, he looked around and immediately noticed a man drooling from the beauty of his wife. Omer's eyes turned into sharp pieces of ice, and meeting with this look, the man staggered back and hurried to disappear. Defne sighed barely audibly.

Shaking her cold hand soothingly and stroking her thin wrist with his thumb, Omer led her to the car.

They traveled in silence. Defne was delving into herself, but Omer did not interfere. He looked at the road and only occasionally squinted at his wife. Near the Zorlu shopping center, of which the ill-fated Raffles Istanbul was a part, he stopped and called someone. A couple of minutes later a guy ran out in the uniform of the seller. In his hands, he held a basket covered with a plaid, which he put in the trunk.

- What is there? - Defne finally woke up from her dreary thoughts.

"You will see soon," Omer smiled and stroked the velvet skin of her cheek with his thumb. - A couple of blocks and we are there.

"Roof," Defne said quietly.

"The roof," he said calmly and started the car.

Sapphire, the highest skyscraper in Istanbul, met them with the radiance of thousands of lights and the friendly open doors of a high-speed elevator. At Defne, everything was chilling inside, and she trembled, but Omer only gripped her hand more firmly and confidently led hеr. Elevator. Corridor. Closed observation deck. Omer passed it and led Defne up the stairs. There, where the wind played in clouds and the whole of Istanbul was visible, in full view.

They went to the very middle. Exactly where in the middle of a large white circle the letter H stood, Omer, stopped. Defne looked around. Everything was as it was a few days ago on another roof ... and not the same. There was a wind, but there was no sense of horror. The height did not frighten and the night did not seem menacingly gloomy. On the contrary, it sparkled with millions of lights and fascinated with its velvet depth.

"Now shout," Omer ordered. "Pour out everything that torments you and keeps you from living."

And she screamed. Desperately, wildly. A voice sprang up in the throat and sank lower. Tearing the rope around the chest, falling into the stomach and like a wind blew away the bad emotions and hopeless darkness. She became a scream and broke up into atoms that scattered dust, and when they gathered together - the void in her chest disappeared and the former Defne returned to life. She took a deep breath of clean, cold air and laughed. Freely and easy. And then she turned to Omer and said:

- Thanks!

He smiled back warmly. Then he took a phone from his pocket and, turning on the player. An exciting waltz melody swam through the air.

- And now we will dance.

He took Defne's hand and laid it on his shoulder. Her second hand drowned in his palm. Holding her waist lightly, he took a step. Defne, obedient to his will, caught the slightest movement and echoed to him. They moved smoothly as one.

On the roof of a huge skyscraper ... almost in the sky ... without feeling the earth beneath, the couple danced. A tall, strong man carefully held in his arms a lovely, fragile girl. The huge city sparkled at their feet, and stars revolved over their heads in a waltz rhythm. The girl raised her face to them and mentally thanked:

"Thanks! For all..."

When the last, expressive notes sounded violently crescendo, Omer took Defne in his arms and spun her in the air.

"Some traditions are unchanged," he winked. She grabbed his neck and, throwing her head back, laughed. Then they sat on a blanket spread right on the letter H and ate melted ice cream. Defne was not at all surprised when Omer got it from the basket. Because important traditions cannot be broken. And Omer never forgets about the important!

When the box was empty, Omer set it aside and turned Defne to face him. He straightened her hair and spoke:

- If you remember, then at the reception, before I go down, I promised you a surprise.

Defne nodded and listened to herself. The mention of the ill-fated evening did not make the heart to ache painfully. It beat freely, evenly, and trembled with anticipation, and not from terrible memories. Omer pulled out of a basket a semicircular, convex box covered in red velvet.

"You didn't figure out what jewelry to wear with the dress ... My tongue was scratching me to tell you what is waiting for you in the hotel safe." But I really wanted to surprise you ... they should have brought it at my signal, but ... - he frowned, and then shook his head as if he had sent off the bad thoughts. Defne was looking in his eyes and, holding her breath, waited for a miracle.

"You were proclaimed the queen among designers ...," he snapped the lock and the red velvet opened slightly. "Every queen should have a tiara ..." the lid opened and Defne gasped in admiration. - The real one. This one is yours.

On a black satin lay a diadem of stunning beauty - a delicate lace woven from white gold and pure, like spring water, blue tourmaline. Omer pulled it out and put it on Defne head. The noble stones absorbed the spread moonlight and mysteriously sparkled, shading the hair, which now seemed almost dark.

"You are beautiful," said Omer, admiringly looking at his wife, and a tender blush lit up on her cheeks. Her huge eyes seemed bottomless and shone with light. "The same as these tourmalines ... Nothing can stain their purity and ruin their uniqueness." Whatever happens - fires, floods, earthquakes, and they remain transparent and flawless. So are you. Dirty people may try to break you, defile you, but all this is no use. In any situation, you will remain by itself — pure water. "He gently touched her lips. "A clear ray of light." Fingers tangled in splendid hair. - My Defne...

"I get it." She smiled with trembling lips. Tears rolled down her cheeks, but Defne did not notice them. She looked into Omer's eyes, and no force in the world could make her look away. - I get it. Allah loves me. Very much... "- Defne impulsively hugged his neck and pressed herself against his broad chest. "I can survive anything if you are beside me!" Never leave me. Ok?

"Never," Omer promised and hid her with hands from the wind.

At night, in bed, there was again a chaste kiss on the forehead. But Defne fell asleep in the warm, protective cocoon of Omer's hands.