- Emine? Omer asked with a hoarse voice. - Do you really want to call her Emine?

"Yes," Defne replied.

A piece of wood crackled in the fireplace, and a sheaf of sparks that flew into the chimney was reflected in her eyes in soft light. Omer caught her eye and tried to figure out what was hidden in the amber depth. Joy intertwined with anxiety inside. He pressed his hand tighter to her belly and asked:

- But why?

- Because that was your mother's name. It was she who gave your life and raised you so wonderfully. It's fair if the granddaughter will bear her name.

- But my mother had a tragic fate. Aren't you afraid...

- No, - Defne didn't let him finish the sentence. Looking up, she said, "I'm not afraid. She won't let anything bad happen to your daughter. Will be her invisible guardian angel. I know."

She knows ... And she talks about it so simple. Omer had a lump in his throat, and fog clouded his eyes. Little Emine. Precious crumb. He will call her by name, and invisibly feel the presence of his mother...

His throat ached, and his voice did not obey, the words flew from his lips intermittently and hoarsely. But he could not help but say...

- I think ... no, I know for sure - it was she who brought you to me ... or me to you...

Defne heard a tremor in his voice and rose abruptly, kneeling beside him. Putting her hands around his face, she kissed him and pressed her forehead to his.

"She loved you more than anyone else in the world," she whispered. - And me too...

Emotions got out of control and cramped his chest. Omer wanted to tell Defne how he felt, but all the words were so insignificant and stupid. He silently embraced her and kissed her temple.

Defnе didn't need words to understand his feelings. She heard them in his ragged breathing, felt them in the hot palms that stroked her back. She saw them in his eyes. And she knew that their baby would be daddy's favorite daughter. Most beloved.

Omer bent down, pulled up Defne's sweater and, touching her belly with his lips, said tenderly:

- Hello, Emine!

***

It seemed to Defne that her life had become a high-speed train, which rushes at full steam through the days and weeks. The official opening of Sapphire loomed ahead, and the company carefully prepared for this event. To help Ahtem, two more jewelers were hired, who turned out to be talented guys and professionals in their field. Defne's works turned from sketches into jewelry of incredible beauty. In addition to the collection, Ahtem was also engaged in the necklace of Farah Sarafoglu, and Defne often had to visit his workshop. They carefully checked each curl of the pattern on red gold with photographs and the surviving jewels. A couple of times, Burak Sarafoglu himself came to their meetings and, having examined the work, nodded his head in satisfaction. The necklace turned out to be an exact copy of the lost one, and he was looking forward to when he could show it to his wife.

Laura's stitches were removed. The wound healed quickly and hardly bothered her. With difficulty, but Ahtem agreed that the bride was quite capable of returning to work. They set a wedding day and even took special permission, but so far they were silent about it. Even to Omer and Defne said nothing.

"Let it be a surprise," Ahtem said smiling, and Laura agreed.

They decided to make the wedding modest. Both, having gone through hell and with all their souls understanding what is the most important thing in life, did not want luxury and pomp. When discussing the list of guests, Laura ventured to ask about Ahtem's family. From the past, she knew that he was the only child of his parents, and they wanted their son to return to his native Crimea after education. But for some reason, he chose Istanbul, and for all the time after the reconciliation, he never mentioned them. He talked about everything in the world, but not about his parents. She did not know how they would perceive the marriage of their son to a foreign woman, and besides, a Catholic, but she believed that it was imperative to invite them to the wedding. And therefore, looking Ahtem in the eyes, she cautiously asked:

- And your parents? Have you already informed them about the wedding?

His face darkened. He shook his head and replied:

- There is no one to tell. Father and mother died shortly after we parted with you. They fell into an abyss. They drove along a mountain serpentine at night ... together ... no one knows what happened. Dad was a very good driver and knew this road very well. Why he lost control, I still cannot understand...

Tears glistened in Laura's eyes.

"I didn't know," she whispered and put her arms around his shoulders. Her fingers gently stroked his hair on the back of his head, and these touches healed old wounds. Ahtem closed his eyes and continued the story:

- After the funeral, I had no reason to stay in Crimea. I didn't want to. I sold everything ... the house, the family business ... and came here. To Istanbul. With the money raised, I opened a workshop, rented an apartment ... Omer helped me a lot then. After all, he also experienced a similar tragedy and understood how I felt.

"My poor one," Laura whispered. - How much did you have to go through...

"Both of us," Ahtem corrected her and looked into eyes sparkling with tears. "We both went through trials and loneliness.

- And we deserve happiness?

- We deserve it.

After this conversation, the feeling of unity became even stronger. Both understood that in the whole world they no longer have a single soul mate, except for each other. The past has finally gone aside. No, it was not forgotten, but it no longer had power over them. Trust became absolute, the love deeper. Both knew - their feelings are forever and the time has come to build their own, common life.

Iz and Deniz were getting ready for the wedding. As Deniz wanted, it was scheduled for December 20th. Iz resigned herself but demanded the most beautiful dress. It was for it that they flew to Paris for a couple of days. The dress was bought quickly. Fortunately, the bride knew the French fashion world well and immediately went to the desired boutique. Alone. Deniz was ordered to sit at the hotel and wait. At first, he was indignant, but Iz enlightened that, according to European beliefs, the groom should not see the bride's outfit before the wedding. This brings misfortune.

Mumbling for decency that they are Turks, not Europeans, he nevertheless agreed and remained to wait for her at the hotel. She returned a few hours later radiant and happy. Declaring that she had chosen a stunning dress more beautiful than which Istanbul had never seen before, she pulled Deniz to walk around Paris. To her Paris. It was different from the favorite tourist routes. But it was on these carelessly bohemian streets that Deniz saw the real soul of the city. And he really loved it.

Just wait, - Iz chirped. - I'll take you to Marseille also. This is where the real soul of France lives.

Deniz smiled broadly in return and kissed the insolently curved lips. He was ready to go even to the ends of the world, if only with her.

Sinan and Seda had the best days of their lives. Nisa was in stable remission. From a painfully pale and haggard girl, she turned into a young beauty with thick red curls, delicate blush, and shining eyes. She returned to school again and worked hard to prepare for her final exams. Seda, who for the first time in many years felt calm and free, threw herself headlong into love. She lived it openly and greedily. Flying in the clouds Sinan demanded a wedding, and she agreed. Taking with him heavy artillery in the person of Omer and Defne, he came to Mrs. Meryem with a silver tray in his hands. The deeply moved woman burst into tears and gave her blessing.

Nisa cut the red ribbon connecting the rings, and Seda and Sinan truly became the bride and groom. They decided to make the wedding in April. And on New Year's holidays, Sinan invited the Berensel family to visit his parents in Switzerland. Mrs. Meryem was frightened, Seda was surprised, and Nisa was delighted. And all three of them agreed.

Having heard about the trip, Omer informed his partner that he and Defne were also leaving the country for the New Year holidays.

- And who will we leave in Passionis for control? - asked the discouraged Sinan.

- Maybe Koray? He's also a co-owner, Defne suggested.

- Nooo! - The bosses shouted in one voice.

- Do you want Passionis to be dead before our return? - Omer chided her. - He will drive all the workers crazy, and they will run away!

- And if not? - Seda supported her friend. - It's just your guess.

"Based on experience." Sinan raised his index finger.

- More precisely on the bias, - Seda did not back down. - Remember Milan, and how Koray found a common language with Derya. But everyone thought that he could not stand her.

"You're right," Omer scratched the back of his head in puzzlement. - Okay. We have ten more days. Let's think about it.

- And where are we going? - Defne asked when she and Omer returned home.

"To Bora Bora," he replied.

- For a long time?

- For a week.

- Have you already planned and thought everything out?

Omer stopped in the middle of the flight of stairs and took her by the shoulders. Looking into mocking eyes, winked and said:

- Yes. Tickets are booked, the hotel is booked. All you need to do is buy yourself a pareo, a big hat, and some bikinis.

- Bikini? She asked, and her eyes widened in amazement. - A one-piece swimsuit will not be enough?

- No, - Omer shook his head.

- Are you sure?

- I am sure, - he kissed her on the nose and asked: - Do not be stubborn and please me.

Defne sighed, but listened to his request. The next day she went to the store and bought everything he asked for and more. If her husband booked a vacation on one of the most beautiful islands, then she must be dressed appropriately.

A week before the opening of Sapphire, Ahtem called and said that the necklace was ready. Defne left all her work and went to the workshop.

She considered the necklace for a long time. Ahtem was rightly considered the best jeweler in Istanbul. The work was done flawlessly. Also, he had cleaned the earrings and the ring, they had gained shine and the whole set looked complete.

"Shall we inform Sarafoglu?" Ahtem asked, and Defne nodded confidently.

The man arrived half an hour later. His hands trembled noticeably as he picked up the necklace.

"Yes," he said, looking at it. - Identical copy. Thank you! He looked at Ahtem and then at Defne."How can I thank you?"

- If the necklace helps to restore the memory of your wife, it will be the best gratitude, - Defne answered. - We are waiting for you with Mrs. Farah on Saturday at the reception on the occasion of the opening of our company.

- We will definitely come, - promised Sarafoglu and hurried to say goodbye.

He was in a hurry to see his wife. The car rushed like an arrow through Istanbul, but the man still urged on the driver:

- Faster, Hussein, faster!

Before his Hummer stopped in the driveway, he jumped out of it and rushed into the house.

- Farah!!! He called, stopping in the middle of the huge hall.

The maid looked at his voice.

"The lady is in the greenhouse," she informed the boss quietly.

- Thank you, Julia, - he answered and with a sweeping step went to the greenhouse.

Farah was watering the orchids. She was putting pots of wildly flowering plants in a plastic tray filled with water and watched with a smile as the gray roots turned bright green. She did not see her husband, and he quietly stopped at the door. Burak admired her exquisite profile and the soft smile on her full, beautiful lips.

"Darling," he called softly, and she looked around. His heart sank with pain. So it was every time he saw such a wary and alien look of hers.

"You came back early," she said distantly.

"I went to the jeweler's and took your jewelry.

Burak handed her a black velvet case. Farah took it and opened it.

"The jewelry looks like new," she said with a smile.

Taking out the ring, she put it on the middle finger of her right hand. After admiring the intricate pattern, she took the earrings and put them into her ears. Without breathing, Burak opened and handed her the second case. The necklace gleamed softly in the winter sun penetrating through the glass roof.

"How beautiful," Farah whispered and took it in her hands. Burak froze. His heart beat like a drum in his chest. He did not look away from her beloved face. Farah raised her eyes to him and rebuked: - And you didn't say that this set of jewelry also has a necklace.

A black wave of disappointment flooded his chest.

Did not work out.

And he hoped so!

But the miracle did not happen. Taking a deep breath, he smiled affectionately at his wife and replied:

- Sorry. It happened. Somehow there was no reason for you to wear it...

- Has it appeared now? - Farah's eyes lit up with curiosity.

- Yes. We were invited to a reception on the occasion of the opening of a jewelry company. One of the co-owners is the same designer, the author of the necklace, which I bought for you at a charity auction.

"You said that her name was Defne Iplikci," Farah recalled, and Burak bitterly thought that more than anything in the world he wants her to remember not the name of an unknown woman, but their happy life before that damned explosion. But the memory that was hidden in the bins of consciousness stubbornly did not want to return. Farah frowned. - Will my appearance at the reception be correct? I may not recognize someone from old acquaintances and put you in an awkward position.

- I don't care, - Burak answered. - Stop being afraid and hiding. We're going to the opening of Sapphire. You will wear an evening dress and this necklace. Let everyone see that the beautiful Mrs. Farah Sarafoglu is living life to the fullest.

"Okay," she agreed and smiled a detached, duty smile.

Leaving his wife in the greenhouse, Burak went to the office. There, closing the door with a key, groaned, and put his head in his hands. How bitter it is when hopes are empty.

Pulling himself together, he called Defne Iplikci. She answered immediately. Putting aside the polite "I'm listening", she immediately asked:

- Did it happen?

"No," he replied.

Defne was silent for a moment. Burak heard a sigh of disappointment. And then Defne spoke:

- Mr. Burak, I understand how upset and broken you are now. But look at the situation in a different way. Your wife is alive and well. Many are not given even this. Even if she doesn't remember, she still loves you. Do not despair. Dawn always comes after a dark night.

- Thank you, Mrs. Defne! You are a wonderful person. And although my hopes were not justified, I am grateful to you for the work done. Farah and I will be at the opening of Sapphire, and I will introduce you to her!

- I will be glad, - Defne answered sincerely.

- All the best. See you, - said Burak Sarafoglu goodbye.

- See you later.

Defne put her phone in her purse and raised her frustrated face to Omer.

- Was that Sarafoglu? - he asked. Defne nodded silently. - As I understand it, the idea was not crowned with success?

- You understand correctly, - she answered sadly and took his arm.

They walked slowly along the embankment. After the stuffy office, Defne wanted to walk and get some fresh air. For Omer, every request she made was a guide to action. He ordered Sukru to stop at the Bosphorus and took his wife to the water's edge paved with granite slabs. It was at that moment that her phone rang.

The call upset her. His kind-hearted Defne perceived someone else's pain as his own. So it was before and now remains unchanged. She always had compassion sincerely and with all her soul. And Omer wanted her not to be sad so that she was always contented and happy. So he stopped, took her by the shoulders, and looked into her eyes.

- Darling, do not take it to heart. Sarafoglu's idea was utopian, and he understood it. You and Ahtem did an excellent job and it is not your fault that it did not work the way Mr. Burak wanted. Plus, it's not the end of the world. If not a necklace, then something else will become an impetus and one fine moment will return Mrs. Farah's memory.

- How well you speak, - Defne pressed her cheek to his chest and hugged his waist. - I would listen to you forever.

Omer put his chin on top of her head and hid the slim figure in his arms.

"Let's stand for a little while," he said hoarsely. - Let the Bosphorus take away all our sad thoughts.

"Let it take them," Defne agreed.

Embracing, they stood on the embankment wrapped in the evening mist and were silent. They breathed the salty sea air and enjoyed the closeness of each other. But the icy wind from the strait forced Omer to release his arms and pull Defne by the hand towards the car.

- Let's go faster. You cannot freeze and get sick.

Defne smiled and followed her husband. Omer's concern was more warming than the fire in the fireplace. It made her soul warm, and this is much more important than the body.

Six days were left before the opening of the new company. The jewelry collection was ready and it was time for a photoshoot for the catalog. The photographer, naturally, was Koray. And here the quite expected conflict happened. The ingenious Sargin rejected all models.

- What is this? - He shouted at the meeting with two fingers holding a photo of another girl by the corner and shaking it in the air. - Have you seen her skin? Yellow as wax! No makeup and photoshop can fix it! And this? - He threw away the photograph and grabbed the second from the folder. - Have you looked at her face? She's ugly with a flat nose! And this! - In his hands was the third photo. "She has thick wrists and fingers like sausages. And you want me, me, the famous Koray Sargin to shoot these poor people? Never!!! Never!!! Not in this life!!! Don't even think about it!!!

With every phrase, Koray went into a rage and those present began to worry about their eardrums and his vocal cords. Carefully touching her ear with her finger, Seda took out another photo from the folder and addressed him in a conciliatory tone:

- And this girl? Look, the skin is good and the nose is not flat. And her hands are all right.

- Who?! He cried. - This empty-headed Merve? Look into her eyes! There are only dollars, dollars!!! No thoughts, no feelings! Is it possible to demonstrate masterpieces with such eyes? You want me! Me! Koray Sargin to become a laughing stock for all Turkey?! To say that I only have to shoot graduates?!

"Graduates also need quality photographs," Seda muttered. And then she regretted it. Koray's mouth turned into a machine gun, spitting phrases at a rate of five words per second.

- What?!!! Me?! I, Koray Sargin, to take pictures of graduates?! Yes, they beg me to make a portfolio of all the top models! Even Tarkan himself wanted me to shoot him for Hello! Even...

- Stop, stop, stop! - Omer interrupted his tirade and raised his hands, palms forward. - Well, we understand. These models are not suitable. Tell me who do you want?