Defne and Ahtem sat in his workshop and examined on a laptop a photograph of an old necklace made in the form of a patterned breastplate. On the table in front of them lay an open case in which earrings and a ring flickered with reddish glitter on black velvet.

"Not one stone," Defne noted, shifting her gaze from the laptop screen to the jewels. - Only patterns.

"Yes," Ahtem confirmed thoughtful, looking at the photograph of the necklace. - This is an ancient Arabic technique. Pretty complicated.

"Do you know it?" - Without taking her eyes off the photo, she pulled a sheet of paper and a pencil toward her.

"Fortunately, yes," he took out the ring from the case and began to examine it through a magnifying glass. - Red gold high carat.

Defne looked at him and asked:

- Do we have such material?

- Yes, there are from my old stocks. I made wedding rings for one very rich Arab, and he wanted just such gold - red. What do you think of the sketch? Can you draw it? Photos are not too good quality.

The last sentence was said in a displeased tone, and Ahtem grunted knowingly and glanced at the girl.

"Wouldn't like to devote time to work in evenings that are designated for Omer?"

"Exactly so," Defne confirmed and drew the first line on a piece of paper. "Are you still running from Laura?"

"Uh, why am I running away," Ahtem was confused. - We are colleagues and communicate in a civilized manner.

"Ah, colleagues," Defne said mockingly. "And how does civilized manner warm your heart and bed well?"

She looked up at him boldly.

Ahtem was speechless. How could the humble Defne ask such a question? She seemed to read his thoughts. Smiling wryly, she answered his silent amazement:

- I am in shock. I've never said anything like this before ... But I'm sorry that because of your pride and, stubbornness you deprive yourself of real life. Tell me, are you aware that Laura is the only woman with whom you will be happy? Everyone else will provide you with convenience, and only she will give you paradise.

"Or hell," Ahtem muttered softly.

"Or hell," Defne agreed. "But you will not know this until you risk confiding in her."

Ahtem grinned wryly and shook his head.

"You're like a weed." If you cling to something, you won't be left behind.

"I have such a habit," Defne agreed cheerfully. "So, are you coming with us to my relatives tomorrow?"

"No," Ahtem answered - Tomorrow, I will work.

Defne, leaning back in her chair, crossed her arms over her chest, and tilted her head to her shoulder. But the man ignored her eloquent pose and continued to do his own thing.

"If I'm а weed, then you are a stubborn mule," she said.

"I have such a habit," Ahtem agreed in her own words.

"Okay," Defne got up from the table and began to pack things in her purse. - I will not bother you. I have a couple of free hours. I'll return to the office and start with the sketch of the necklace. "She picked up the case with earrings and the ring. Touching the pattern on reddish gold, she asked: "Do you need this jewelry for work?"

- Not yet. Take them. When the sketch is ready, and I proceed to implement it, then they will be needed.

Defne threw the case into her purse and put on her coat.

- Bye, stubborn! Nice work to you.

- And to you. See you, "Ahtem said goodbye.

When the girl went out the door, he went to the table and hit his finger on the laptop keyboard. A sweet, smiling face of his torment and happiness appeared on the screen. Ahtem ran his knuckles along the cheekbone. What a pity that he can't feel the tenderness of the skin ... Maybe Defne is right. After all, he has been living in hell for seven years, and without risking to change something, he will never get out of it. He put his fists on the table, rested his chin on them, and gently looked at the image on the screen.

"How much I love you," he whispered.

***

On the way home, Defne was buzzing Omer's ears with stories about the peculiarities of Arabic engraving on intricate gold patterns.

"To copy and draw them on paper is quite real, but I don't even imagine how Ahtem will put all this into practice," she chattered.

Omer silently smiled at the corners of his mouth and caressed her fingers.

"But how beautiful it is!" - continued to admire Defne. - A convex gold plate, on which, like an engraving, patterns of stunning beauty are applied. At home, I will show you the photo on the tablet.

- Did you manage to draw something? He asked.

- Imagine this! I advanced well. Still, drawing is easy than portraying something that attacks the imagination. I thought it would be boring, but no. Not at all. These patterned engravings are like magic. It captures thoughts completely.

"Did you even forget about me?" Omer asked jealously.

- What are you saying! - Defne was indignant and looked into his face caressingly. "I remember about you every second." You are my life.

Silently, she glanced at Sukru. But he was driving the car and did not listen to what the boss and his wife were talking about in the back seat. Or pretended not to.

A good man Sukru, Defne thought gratefully. "How much kindness and delicacy is in him."

Omer leaned over to her ear and quietly asked:

"I hope you're not going to draw at home?"

Defne looked at him cheeky and asked:

- And you?

He only winked at her and smiled slyly.

The Mercedes drove into their quiet, narrow street. Usually, it was deserted, but today a van and a black sedan stood to the neighboring house. Loaders carried things out of the house, and a thin, all in black woman stood at the gate and watched them with empty eyes.

"Sukru, stop here," Omer asked. Sukru pulled over and stopped. "Put the car in the garage, and you can go home," Omer told him and got out of the car. Defne got out after him. She took his arm and together they went to the old woman.

"Hello, madam," said Omer. "Forgive us, we did not express our condolences to you at the funeral. Believe that we sympathize with your loss with all our hearts," the woman looked sternly and was silent. Omer remembered that they were not familiar and hastened to correct the mistake: "We are your neighbors." I am Omer Iplikci, and this is my wife, Defne. We were business partners with Fikret.

"I know who you are," the old woman answered and looked into Defne's eyes. Cold ran down her spine from her sad, death-filled gaze. She stepped back a half step and pressed closer to Omer's shoulder. "I know who you were for Fikret." I also know that she saved your life at the cost of her own. You are probably worthy of such a sacrifice.

Omer had an irresistible urge to defend Defne, to stop this gaze with his big body. He felt that she squeezed his elbow tightly and laid his hand on top of hers.

- Are you leaving? - Omer nodded at the van with things.

"Yes," the old woman answered. - To the village for orphans. Instead of Fikret. I will teach children to draw.

- Do you also know how to draw? Asked Defne softly.

- In our family, all women knew how to draw well. My daughter was also a talented artist. And Fikret...

"Yes, she won the whole world with her talent," Defne ventured. She reached out and touched a dry, wrinkled hand with a sympathetic gesture. "And her mercy." She so dreamed about this village for children without parental love. You act nobly, deciding to continue her work.

The old woman looked at Defne, and her heart was bleeding. This sweet girl speaks of Fikret's mercy and does not know that Fikret almost committed a crime concerning her. And does not need to know. Nobody needs this truth, and she will take it with her to the grave. Let people remember her granddaughter with a kind word and call merciful.

"Thank you," she thanked Defne. - I am very guilty before Fikret. Maddened by grief, I refused to love her for many years ... did not even give her a bit of tenderness and warmth. If I could turn back these years, I would have acted differently. And her father would be forced to wake up and not stay a prisoner of grief and the pain of loss. But this is impossible. The only thing I can do is give love, which I refused Fikret to unfortunate children. And maybe then, - her face faltered and distorted from soundless crying - the Allmighty will forgive me and take me to them, my precious girls.

Defne, letting go of Omer's hand, went up to her and hugged her. Stroking her shivering shoulders, she softly whispered in her ear:

"They love you ... even there ... love with all their hearts." Do not torture yourself ... be sorry ... because both your daughter and granddaughter have already forgiven you ... loved ones are always forgiven.

"You deserve her sacrifice for your sake," the woman said huskily.

"I did not want that," said Defne.

"I know ... but she wanted to."

They both cried. Omer looked at them, and his eyes twitched. He knew what it means to lose relatives and loved ones, and now he wholeheartedly sympathized with this old woman.

One of the workers approached them. Shifting from foot to foot, he hesitated to speak and glanced at Omer. He nodded to him, and the man gently touched the old woman's shoulder.

"Madam, everything is ready." We can go.

She let go of Defne, wiped away her tears, took a deep breath, and the old, cold, and stern woman turned to the worker.

"Thank you," she thanked the man. "I'm going now." Gri not found? - The man negatively shook his head. The old woman frowned and muttered under her breath: "As independent as the hostess was."

Omer took Defne's hand and, interlacing their fingers, squeezed her hand tightly. And then he turned to the old woman:

"What will happen to the house?"

"I'll put it up for sale." Let a family settle in it and again be filled with light, warmth, laughter. Let children play in it and to smell of baklava. It was full for so long with sadness and pain.

"You made the right decision."

The old woman looked into his eyes and grinned bitterly.

"For once, and I was able to make the right decision." Goodbye, Omer goodbye, Defne. Be happy and take care of each other.

She went to the car. The driver opened her back door. Looking at the house for the last time, she got into the car, and it drove off.

Omer and Defne felt that the car was taking away not just an old woman, but an entire era in which love and tragedy, joy and hopeless grief, despair, and hope were closely intertwined.

- Shall we go home? - Omer looked into his wife's tear-shining eyes.

She nodded and smiled at him with a touching smile, from which her heart became warm, and all her worries melted away like smoke.

Hugging, they went to their warm and dearest to the heart house.

Late in the evening, comfortably settled in the arms of her husband, Defne lay quietly and thought about how difficult life is. It sends people trials, makes them make choices where, it seems, there is no choice. It breaks the backs even with the strongest. Some fold their arms and give up grief. They sink into its abyss to the very bottom and remain in it forever, forgetting that someone, on the surface, needs them. And others, having clenched their teeth, overcome pain, despair, fear, and go forward. For the sake of those who need their love and care.

- Why are you not sleeping? Omer asked quietly and kissed her shoulder.

Defne turned to him and opened her eyes. His face, calm and peaceful, was directly opposite her. She looked into his eyes and asked:

"Omer, promise me something."

"Anything, my love."

"Promise that if something goes wrong and if you have to choose between me or the baby,you will choose her."

- Defne!!!

"Wait," she pressed her fingers to his lips, "I haven't finished yet." Promise that if something happens to me, you will not drown in your grief and will love her for the two of us.

- Defne, where did such thoughts come from?

- Promise!

He lifted himself on his elbow and bent over her, so desperately determined face.

"Everything will be fine with you and the baby." There are no other options and cannot be.

- I also believe in it, but if suddenly...

- There is no "all of a sudden"!

"But anything can happen!"

"If it happens, I will save both of you!"

He said it so decisively that Defne believed. He will save them. He will cling with both hands and does not let them go. He will not give to anyone, neither fate, nor accident, nor death.

Tears rolled down her cheeks. She pressed herself against his chest and said:

- I love you so much! And the baby! More than life!

"Silly," Omer stroked her hair and shoulders. Kissed a temple and a cheek wet from tears. Rocked her in his arms and warmed with the warmth of his hot body. "Forget all these fears." They are empty. Everything will be fine with us. Our baby will be born and will grow up the most beloved and happiest girl in the world.

"Hold me tightly," Defne asked.

He fulfilled her request. He clasped his hands, pressed her to his body, kissed her forehead, and ordered:

"Now, sleep."

She smiled and obediently closed her eyes.

***

Ahtem stood at the window and watched as Omer's Mercedes is parking near the neighboring house. Defne stepped out of it, looked at the windows, and waved. Ahtem knew who she was waving. His whole body froze in tension, and his unblinking gaze fixed on the door. It opened, and Laura stepped out into the street with a box in her hands. She was wearing jeans, mustard-colored semi-coat, and suede boots. But even these simple clothes looked on her like the top of elegance.

"Put a rag on her, and everyone will think that this is an haute couture outfit," the man muttered jealously. He put on his jacket and went outside.

"Good afternoon," he greeted the girls, and Omer looking out of the car.

"Hi," Defne was delighted, and Laura only nodded restrained. - You still decided to go with us to my family?

- Not. I'm going to the workshop," replied Ahtem.

"Nice work to you," Laura wished him and sat in the back seat of the car.

"Yes, yes, nice," Defne mockingly supported her and also disappeared into the cabin.

Omer silently winked at his friend and got behind the wheel.

The car started, and only when it turned the corner, Ahtem went to his. His attention was drawn to the guy who stood at the crossroads and gazed intently at the Mercedes. He was wearing a fleece vest over his jacket, the hood of which covered his face almost halfway. Ahtem did not know why, but he did not like this type. The guy, noting the gaze of the man hunched over, bowed his head and quickly disappeared. Ahtem frowned and got into his car. A vague alarm stirred in his chest, but he dismissed it and started the engine.

- Well, ready? - asked Defne Laura at the door of Topal's house. - Do not be scared. My relatives are a bit noisy," she pointedly turned her eyes, and her friend laughed gaily.

Five minutes later, being in the middle of a joyful screech and fast, like a machine-gun burst, Turkish speech, she was bewildered.

"Oh my god," she whispered. "I thought I knew Turkish well."

Omer heard her words and winked encouragingly:

- Don't worry, they'll chatter all the news now and then will speak more slowly.

- What are you whispering there? - Asked a thin old woman and, opening her hands, called Omer: - Come hug you! Miss you!

Omer joyfully obeyed. He hugged the grandmother and kissed her hand.

"Look how polite he is," the old woman turned to Laura, beaming with a pleasing smile. - Our girl Defne chose the best husband for herself.

"You're right, Madam Turkan," Laura agreed with her, and also kissed her wrinkled and cinnamon-smelling hand.

Grandmother blushed with pleasure and proudly turned her eyes. Defne imagined that tomorrow she would boast in front of the local gossips that the Italian countess herself bowed to her, Turkan, with such respect that she kissed her hand.

"Beat the neighborhood," Nihan muttered while looking at this scene and held out her hand to Laura. - I'm Nihan.

Laura shook it and said with a sweet smile:

- The best friend of Defne and the mother of the most beautiful child in the world. Defne talked a lot about you.

"For you," Nihan corrected her mechanically and looked around her family with a surprised look. - I like her!

"And what is this," Esra asked curiously and nodded at the box that Omer had set on a table in the hallway.

- This is a chocolate cake, Caprese. I did it yesterday, "Laura replied.

- She prepared it herself?! - the girl was surprised.

The guest nodded.

"Chocolate cake," Serdar said. His eyes lit up with anticipation. "She did it herself." I like her!

- Serdar! - Nihan shouted at her husband. - Do not disgrace us! The countess will think that you are starving here.

Serdar faltered, and Laura hastened to reassure him and at the same time all the others:

- Well, in a house where such wonderful housewives live, a hungry man is just impossible.

Defne leaned toward Omer and whispered in his ear:

- Laura, in five minutes, managed to charm my whole family.

"Not all," he answered just as quietly. - Iso is still holding on.

Omer did not have time to finish the sentence when the baby in his father's arms extended his arms to the beautiful aunt and smiled a toothless smile.

"Iso surrendered too," said Defne and Omer, trying not to laugh, closed his mouth with his hand.

Laura took the baby in her arms and carefully pressed it to her chest. She even closed her eyes from the tenderness that filled her whole. What happiness is this - a child.

The women looked at them with tears in their eyes, and even the men experienced something like emotion. But Defne thought that Ahtem still does not know what a weed she is and how she can cling. Because she had a new idea fix - Laura with a small son in her arms.

"And how long will we stand in the hallway?" - interrupted the touched sighs grandmother. - Quickly come inside the house! Laura is coming with me. And so that no one even looked into the kitchen. No one to bother under our feet.

She grabbed the baby from the girl's hands and gave it to his father, took her hand, and led her into the kitchen. The men went into the living room, and the girls ran upstairs to gossip.

The three of them sat on the big bed of young Topal's and shared news and secrets.

Omer played with Iso, but when the baby's eyes began to close, Daddy took him to sleep, and Omer listened to the voices in the kitchen.

"Bravo, who taught you how to cut onions so cleverly?" - The voice of grandmother Turkan rang in surprise.

"Gina, our cook," Laura answered. - I grew up in the kitchen. Nowhere was good for me as near my big G.

- Kind woman. Where is she now?

- Died. For me, her death was a big loss.

- Ah, how bad! Poor girl. But now you have grandmother Turkan. Do not be shy and come whenever you want. I will always hug you and feed you delicious homemade food.

"Sure, grandmother Turkan," Laura's voice oozed tenderness and warmth.