- Fikret!

The girl at the window jerked at the sound of a squeaky voice. Putting on her face a mask of cold indifference, she slowly turned around.

- Yes, grandmother?

- Time for dinner. Tradition has always been respected in this house. Be kind, and you stick to them. Fatima has already set the table.

Fikret looked at the old woman. Straight, like a stick, all in black, harsh, and cold. As long as she remembered herself, grandmother was always like that. Only the number of wrinkles on her face changed, but hеr expression remained the same - arrogant and contemptuous. As a child, Fikret thought that if she was good and obedient, her grandmother would smile at her, stroke her hear, hug her. She had seen other grandmothers treat their grandchildren like that. But a miracle did not happen. Never.

"I remember," Fikret answered, not hiding her irony. - Traditions above all. Hurry up. We will not detain Fatima.

She walked past the old woman and went out the door. Squinting at her, the woman went to the window and looked where the granddaughter peered a few minutes ago. To the neighboring house. Pursing her lips, she shook her head condemningly. Strange people. Even on the windows do not hang curtains. Showing their happiness to everyone. They don't know - it needs to be hidden. Human envy and anger do not know pity and condescension.

***

In Ipliкci's new house, chandeliers shone brightly with golden light, the scent of fresh pastries hung in the air, and laughter sounded loud. Close friends who have now become partners, discussing working moments, moved on to pleasant things - they celebrated the birth of their new company. Omer opened champagne, and for Defne brought juice from white grapes. She laughed and said that it tastes better than champagne and the color is almost the same. Only there are no bubbles. Omer winked and suggested adding soda to it.

The filled glasses touched and nicely clinked.

"For the smooth road for Sapphire," said Omer.

"For luck," Deniz supported him.

Defne smiled at her husband with a radiant smile. He answered with a look of love and tenderness. Holding her gaze he took a sip. In Defne's chest sang violins. She closed her eyes and thanked the heavens warmly. For this house, for a given happy life, for the opportunity to be loved. For Omer.

Laura also found the courage to look into Ahtem's eyes. And met his gaze. Impervious, but burning. No matter how she wanted, she could not read his thoughts. But he could not hide his feelings. No matter how much he tried to hide them, they lived their own lives and glowed with fire.

After the hungry guests emptied the snack trays, the host turned on the music. Sinan led Seda to dance, Deniz, invited Iz. Omer grabbed the laughing Defne in his arms and spun with her on the parquet.

Laura decided to quietly evaporate. Grabbing a tray with cups, she went out into the kitchen. Putting it near the sink, she went to the window and wrapped her arms around her shoulders. Behind, the door closed with an almost inaudible click. The back of her head warmed and goosebumps ran down her spine. She did not need to look back to understand who was behind.

"So this is the old friend and his wife who offered you a job?"

She closed her eyes. Favorite voice, up to trembling deep and dear. How much she missed it.

- Yes.

- Didn't there be similar offers in Italy? And what about the family company. Doesn't it need your knowledge? Why did you leave Italy and choose Istanbul?

Laura looked around. She came so close to him that she saw golden dots in his black eyes like night. She felt his scent. She heard him breathing. Looking into his eyes, she asked:

"What do you think, why?"

He twisted his lips in a perplexed grimace.

- I can't even imagine.

"And imagine," she advised. - Imagine. Maybe then you will find the answer to your question.

Laura, like a true countess, went out the door with calm dignity and gently closed it behind herself. Left alone, Ahtem gritted his teeth to the aches and clasped his head in his hands. The mental equilibrium that he had built so hard over the past years collapsed like a house of cards, and he could not do anything about it. The flame broke out with renewed vigor and every second turned into an uncontrolled avalanche of fire, which threatened to burn the hell out of his reason. Ahtem groaned and whispered hoarsely:

- What should I do?

He returned to the room a few minutes later. The dancing ended, the music was barely audible, and the guests were going home.

"Ahtem," Defne turned to him, "will you give Laura a ride to her home?" I would not want her to take a taxi so late alone. I will worry.

The heart in the chest made a somersault and crashed into the heels. But not a single muscle flinched on his cool face. He nodded and addressed the girl:

- Countess Cesare, in which area of Istanbul is the hotel located?

Laura smiled at the corner of her mouth and answered:

- Not a hotel.A house. I rent it today and moved. In Bakirkoy.

His heart jumped to his throat and blocked breath. Did these women decide to bring him to a heart attack today?

- Well. Then we are on the road, - he answered with a voice without emotion.

"Just please call me as before, Laura."

"You don't like your title anymore?" - giving her coat mockingly asked Ahtem.

Laura gracefully put her hands into the sleeves and turned to face him. She looked into the eyes, and it seemed to him in the soul. And she answered:

"Whatever you think, but it never mattered to me." Never.

She went to Defne, kissed her on the cheek, and whispered:

- Thanks.

Defne squeezed her hand encouragingly and answered with her eyes: "Good luck!"

Omer escorted guests to the street. Saying goodbye and closing the old, massive gates behind the departed cars, he returned to the house. Defne swayed slowly in her rocking chair and pondered something intently. Omer rested his hands on the armrests and leaned toward his wife's face. He kissed the lips smelling of grapes and asked:

- Tired?

She smiled and shook her head.

- Not at all! Today was such a wonderful evening.

- Why was it? - Omer raised an eyebrow slyly and smiled at the corner of his mouth. - It continues. Today we haven't eaten ice cream yet. What kind do you want pistachio or raspberry?

"Pistachio ... and raspberry," Defne funny wrinkled her nose. - I cannot decide.

Omer gently snapped his finger on this very nose and promised:

- Then I bring both.

They sat side by side on the sofa and ate ice cream from one bowl. Defne took turns either pale green or muted pink and enjoyed the nutty and berry taste. Omer was looking at her and savor. Who would have thought that watching the wife eat ice cream is a thrill?

"How cleverly you turned Ahtem around your finger and put him before the fact that he was taking Laura home," he said admiringly.

"Did it really work out well?" Asked Defne vividly.

"One can't imagine a better idea," Omer put his index finger and thumb together. "You acted like a real matchmaker."

- That's it! - Defne winked at him. But after a moment, her face became serious. - I just really want them to be able to step over the past and forgive each other and themselves.Аs you and I did.

Omer set the empty bowl on a low table and put an arm around her shoulders. Silently kissed the top of her head and pressed his cheek to her. He again admired his wife. Her kind heart and big as the universe, soul. The ability to sympathize with all her heart, and in the same way, with all her heart, enjoy the happiness of others. There was not a drop of envy and arrogance in her. Only mercy and gentle warmth. And this kind of angel is his wife. He took it as a miracle and knew for sure - it will always be like this. Defne will never become a habit for him. And in a hundred years he will be amazed at the incredible luck that fate gave him exactly her. His Defne. Defne for Omer.

- Why are you silent? She asked softly.

- I'm thinking.

- About what?

- About you.

She laughed and rubbed her cheek against his shoulder.

"How good ..."

- What's good?

"To know that you think of me."

He turned her face to himself and looked into clean, shining eyes.

- I always think about you. Every minute.

Defne pressed a hand to his cheek and asked:

- Let's go upstairs.

Fikret again stood at the window of her room in her father's house. Ever since she saw four days ago how the familiar black Mercedes drove up to a neighboring estate, she only kept doing that staying and looking out the window. She watched the happiness of others and that tore her heart.

So now she saw a light come on in a room on the second floor. The silhouette of Omer flashed through with Defne in his arms. She even made out their faces - happy and shining with tenderness. Now he will put her on the bed, kiss, cover her stomach with his palm, and then he will go to the window and close the curtains. They will remain in their golden world, and she, Fikret, will crawl along the wall and, holding her fist in her mouth, will writhe on the cold, stone floor.

At the other end of the house, an old woman entered her ascetic room. She went to an old mirror and slowly pulled the black scarf off her head. She looked at the gray hair and her face fluttered. Bitter longing spread over wrinkles. Under the mirror stood an oak chest lined with copper. Turning the massive key, she lifted the lid. Bright colors played inside. Blue chiffon, turquoise silk, pale pink lace. The old woman gently touched them with a dry hand. Over the dresses lay a thick notebook in shabby leather binding. The woman took it in her arms. The thin lips quivered. The face has changed. Tenderness softened strict features and touched the eyes. The old woman stroked the rough binding of the notebook and whispered:

- Hello, my soul...

***

A dark blue SUV cut the darkness with the headlights. It dissipated only for a moment and again enveloped the car in an ink haze. Inside the car, it was dark and piercingly quiet. Ahtem did not utter a word all the way. Laura was silent too. There were so many words that she wanted to say, but would he hear?

When the car approached Bakirkoy, Ahtem finally broke the silence.

"Please tell me your address."

She told it, and he grunted in surprise.

- So we find ourselves, neighbors?

She said nothing again. It is foolish to play a surprise, but he will not understand the truth. Without waiting for an answer from her, Ahtem asked a new question:

- Why did you choose this area? It does not fit your lifestyle at all.

She threw her head back in the seat and answered with hidden bitterness in a deep voice:

"How do you know my lifestyle?"

"The one that matches the titled person," Ahtem answered firmly.

Knuckles turned white on the hands gripping the steering wheel. Laura, to the point of trembling, wanted to touch them ... Closing her eyes, she turned to the window and said smoothly:

- "Your misconceptions have not changed. And you're still sure of them.

- Misconceptions? He asked. - Interesting wording. And what am I mistaken about?

She looked at him and answered:

- In everything. You don't know anything about my life. Nothing.

"I don't want to know," he snapped. - We are colleagues and nothing more.

"Well! Have you heard? Laura asked herself. - Nothing new".

Nothing. Only the usual aching chest pain became sharper.

"As you say," she agreed.

He stopped the car in the parking lot between their modest but solid houses. Laura said quietly: "See you ...", and went out of the car. He looked behind her. If she had looked back, he would send everything to hell and rush to her. He would have hugged her in his arms and would not let go. He would have kissed her till stop breathing. He would say that he loves her and will no longer allow anyone to stand between them.

But she did not look back. She opened the door with the key and entered the house. A light flashed in the windows. It was it who became the catalyst for memories. Pictures of the past swam before his eyes.

A crystal chandelier shines brightly in the magnificent hall of the old palace. An arrogant, handsome man looks at him as if dust under his feet and lash like a whip with the words:

- You decided that you can lay claim to my daughter's hand. You, а plebeian and non-Christian? For the hand of Count Rastrelli's daughter? Forget it! Laura is getting married to Luigi Cesare. I do not advise you to seek meetings with her anymore. Otherwise, your stay in Italy will end sooner than you can finish your studies.

The man's face before his eyes gave way to the beautiful and desperate face of Laura.

"I have to ... forgive me if you can ..." she says.

He couldn't ...

Ahtem turned and, dropping his shoulders, wandered down to his house.

***

Deniz led Iz to the very door to her apartment. When she gave a goodbye hand, he clasped her long fingers and squeezed in his. And then he asked:

"I really want tea." Green with jasmine. Will you make it for me?

"Do you promise to behave yourself?" She asked in response.

He, demonstrating his obedience, silently raised his hands up. Iz opened the door and nodded.

- Come into the living room. I will make tea.

Deniz could not stay in the empty room alone. Without her. After wandering aimlessly from corner to corner, he went into the kitchen. Iz was making tea. Her movements were precise and smooth. Like a dancer, the room smelled of jasmine and something else elusively subtle and dear. He could not remember where he smelled this aroma, but his mind remembered it and responded with an aching sadness.

- What does it smell like? - he asked.

Iz smiled soft and gentle. As if not in the morning she threw thunder and lightning and drove him crazy with her obstinacy. Taking the dried stalk from the table, she brought it to the man's nose and explained:

- This is thyme. I always put it to the tea. Its bitter smell balances the sweetness of jasmine and tea ceases to be too sweet.

Deniz remembered.

"My mother loved tea with thyme," he said hoarsely.

- What was she like, your mother? - Iz poured tea and out of the corner of her eye watched him. He sat on a stool near the kitchen table and pulled his cup toward him. He took a deep breath and smiled sadly.

- Small, tender, and very beautiful. She always laughed and everyone around laughed with her. And then ..., - his face darkened, - she could not even smile. She became closed, shy. She didn't go out at all ... She wanted to seem inconspicuous ... When she got sick, my father connected the best doctors. But they were powerless. It is impossible to cure a person who does not want to live ...

Iz, restraining tears, gently touched his cheek. Deniz shook his head and, grabbing her hand, kissed her palm.

- Sorry, upset you ...

Silently, she pressed a hand to his mouth.

- You can upset me. I want to share your pain.

- And happiness? - looking into her eyes, he asked. "Do you want to share happiness with me?"

"I want to," she answered. - My mother always says: "If there is no one to share happiness with, then this is not happiness."

"Your mother is right," Deniz took a sip of tea from the cup and asked: "Tell me about your parents."

Iz smiled a bright smile.

- I have wonderful parents. Progressive. Not a typical Turkish family at all. Mom is Italian. Father is a Turk, but he studied in Rome and the European education left its mark. I grew up in love and respect. I had complete freedom to make my choice and make my decisions. For which I am very grateful to my father and mother.

"Now I understand from where comes this freedom-loving nature in you." You are lucky.

- Yes, I am. My mom and dad really love each other and me and my brother. At one time, they had to endure more than one battle with their parents for their feelings. But they won and were able to build a happy life.

Deniz shook his head thoughtfully and smiled.

"I don't know them yet, but I admire them already." And I want to meet them. Is it possible?

He, waiting for her answer, held his breath, and inseparably looked at her lively, mobile-like face. So she frowned a little, bit her lower lip, tried to hide a smile, but could not. She smiled broadly and answered:

- Why not. The town of Side is not on another continent.

Deniz leaned toward her and asked again:

- Iz, do you understand what I'm talking about? I'm not joking.

The response was bold and confident. Like the words:

"I'm completely serious, too."

Deniz threw back his head and laughed. Easy and free. Like a man who threw an unbearable burden from his shoulders. And then he kissed Iz on the lips and ordered:

- Then call them. Immediately. Say - we'll arrive for dinner tomorrow.

She blinked her eyes wide with amazement.

- Tomorrow? For dinner?

- Exactly! Tomorrow for dinner. As you rightly said, Side is not on another continent. Come on, come on! Yes, do not forget to say that I am flying to ask for your hand.

"Are we in a hurry?"

He dispelled the doubt with a kiss. Hot and cocky. Letting go of her lips, he looked into her eyes and answered:

- No. We are late. Five years for sure.

***

The day was rainy but surprisingly quiet and warm. Defne, leaning her head back on a rocking chair, sat on the terrace of her house and watched the rain, as fine as water dust. The drops did not hit, but lay on everything around with life-giving, seasoned with the smell of fallen leaves, moisture. It was easy and pleasant to breathe. Defne smiled at the thought. Strange, she never noticed that the air could be tasty.

"You never had time to think about it," whispered an inner voice. "You spun like a squirrel in a wheel." Troubles and worries did not allow you to raise your head and rejoice at such simple things.

"That's the way it is," Defne agreed with slight sadness.

This week was a revelation for her. Unable to scoot headlong to do several things at once, she opened her eyes wider and looked more closely at the world around her. She listened to herself. And suddenly she realized - she enjoys the forced idleness. She wrapped herself up in Omer's care, as if in a soft blanket, and is happy every minute of her life. Even the gray sky and boring rain do not spoil her mood. When the sun is shining inside, then any weather outside is good.

Zehra peeked out of the house. She looked at the girl and softly called:

- Defne! Aren't you cold, honey?

"No," she shook her head. - Today it's warm. But I would have drunk tea. With a cupcake. Will you do it?

- Now, girl. I'll make the most delicious," Zehra promised and hid in the house.

Defne's phone rang. Omer looked at her from the screen. Defne smiled at his image and accepted the call.

- I'm listening, my love!

- How are my girls doing? - a voice soft as velvet was heard.

"We are doing great." Watching the rain, looking at the sky, waiting for the tea promised by Zehra. In a word, we are lazy at home.

"How glad I am to hear that." Sit back and gain strength. Pamper the Bead.

"And how can I do this?" Defne laughed.