Omer took Defne by the hand and led her to the sofa. He sat down next to her and hugged her. Stroking her shoulder gently, he spoke:

- Darling, it's just a coincidence. Don't take it to heart. Nobody can become you and take your place. This is simply not possible. After all, you are you. Unique. The only one.

Defne looked into his eyes. Beautiful, black eyes. They looked affectionately and warmed her chilled heart. But did Omer hear her? Did he understand?

"I feel that way," she whispered, and a tear ran down her cheek.

- My soul, these are hormones, - Omer rubbed the moisture on her cheek with his thumb. - I read that during pregnancy, this often happens. Calm down and try to forget.

Defne froze. She looked at her husband, and something broke inside. He doesn't understand her anymore. He considers her feelings to be the whim of pregnant women, and she is a stupid wife who throws tantrums from scratch. It was painful. So painful and cold. She lowered her eyes and replied:

- You're right. These are hormones. "She stood up and walked over to the table. She picked up a pencil and touched its sharpened tip." - It's time to get back to work.

Omer got up from the sofa, walked over to her, and hugged her. He kissed the temple and said in a velvet voice:

"My sensible girl."

- Do not call me that.

- How? - Omer was taken aback.

- Your girl.

- Why?

He didn't understand. He really didn't understand that the girl grew up and learned to see the world differently. Don't trust words. Doubt people, you don't like. Feel their envy. See prudence and falsehood. And to understand that this envy can destroy her life. Will Omer be able to love such a Defne, or does he only need his pure and naive girl?

"I grew up, Omer," she replied.

- Silly, - he smiled and straightened a red strand of hair that was out of her hair. Then he lightly flicked his index finger against the tip of her small nose. "Even in forty years, you will be my girl. Some things don't change, my love.

***

Ahtem inserted the last stone into the pendant-amulet ordered by Defne and admired his work. The decoration is amazing. Knowing what a noble goal is inherent in this pendant, he put all his soul and all his skill into it.

Putting the amulet in the case, Ahtem glanced around the new workshop proudly. As he dreamed, he equipped it in the basement of their house with Laura. Now he worked here, and in the old workshop, three novice craftsmen settled. Under his patronage, they were hired to work in Sapphire.

Something soft touched his feet and a purr was heard. He bent down and stroked the gray cat's neck with a familiar gesture.

- Hi, Gri! Do you like the pendant? - The cat purred louder. - Me too. It turned out beautifully.

A door slammed upstairs, and rapid footsteps were heard. Ahtem raised his eyebrows in surprise. Only Laura could open the door with her key. But what does she do at home during the day?

Footsteps were heard closer, and the wife herself flew into the workshop.

- Honey, - he hurried to meet her and took her hands. - What happened?

She looked at him with wide, shining eyes. She took a breath and blurted out:

- Two stripes. Blue. Bright blue, you know? Two!

He didn't understand anything. What stripes? Where? Gently pulling her hand, he tried to seat his wife on the sofa, but she became stubborn and remained standing.

- Ahtem, don't you hear?! Two stripes, I say! Blue!

"Honey, calm down," he released her hands and gently stroked her shoulders. - Explain clearly. I do not understand anything.

- What is incomprehensible here?! - Laura, always balanced and calm, exclaimed impatiently. - The test showed two stripes! Blue! - She fell silent and smiled touchingly. Then she shrugged and said: - I'm pregnant...

The floor slipped out from under his feet, and the room rushed in frantic rotation. His heart stopped for a short moment, and then it pounded like crazy.

"Darling...," he whispered, comprehending what he had heard, and the next moment he picked up his wife in his arms and whirled her around the workshop. A jubilant shout echoing off the walls filled the room with a cacophony of sounds. Laura laughed, cried, and clung tightly to her husband's broad shoulders. He put her on the floor and pressed his trembling lips to hers.

- Thank you ... - whispered between kisses. - thanks...

- Silly, - she answered in the same whisper. - Why me? Thank you! You made me a child!

Ahtem put his hands over her face and looked into her eyes. Huge, black, shining with happiness and the mystery that now lived in her.

"We did," he corrected hoarsely. - We have done!

The gray cat was sitting in the corner and squinting slanting eyes, looked at the owners. Its independent face was already very pleased. Laura noticed it out of the corner of her eye and exclaimed in surprise:

- Gri! Are you also happy that a baby will appear in the house?

The cat got up, stretched itself contentedly, and went up to the owner. Purring softly, rubbed her neck against her legs, and looked into her eyes.

"It will be my favorite," said her gaze.

***

By evening, Defne fell ill. She shivered, had a headache and a sore throat. She lay wrapped in a blanket, desperately trying to keep warm. Omer with a face darker than a cloud walked in circles and tried to heal her. He covered her with blankets over the blanket, applied a compress to her forehead, he gave her tea with honey and lemon. Defne could only swallow that tea. Thinking about other food made her sick. Holding her head as she drank tea, he grumbled:

- And what did you think when you went up to the roof without a coat? It is February, and you were in one thin blouse. Now you see - you caught a cold! And the medicine cannot be taken.

Defne lay down again and, burying her nose in the blanket, asked in a husky voice:

- Omer, calm down! If you want to continue lecturing, go to another room and grumble there. I already have a headache.

"Sorry," he apologized repentantly and sat down next to her on the bed. Gently tucked the unruly hair behind her ear and pressed his hand to her cheek. She was hot. He reached for the thermometer and in a voice trembling with alarm suggested: - Defne, let's measure the temperature.

"We measured it fifteen minutes ago," she muttered indignantly from under the covers.

"Then let's call an ambulance," he said.

- What for? She moaned. - It's a common cold. I'll lie down for a couple of days, and everything will pass.

"You're pregnant," he reminded her.

- And I will remain pregnant for another four months. - Defne grimaced. - Please let me lie down calmly. Don't pester me.

"Okay," he sighed and, crawling under the covers, lay down beside her. He hugged her and pressed his chest to the narrow back.

Defne froze. It was so touchingly sweet to feel his warmth. It penetrated the skin and drove off the chills. But then ... why isn't it easier for her? Why does the soul hurt more than a cold throat?

By morning, the temperature dropped. Together with it, her voice disappeared. Defne only whispered and swallowed with difficulty the warm milk and honey brought by Omer.

- I will not go to work and stay with you - anxiously examining the pale face of his wife, he suggested.

"Don't," she hissed. - I'll call grandmother. She will come and take care of me.

Omer's cheek twitched and a shadow flickered in his black eyes.

"I want to take care of you," he said, emphasizing the first word.

"You have an important meeting," Defne reminded him and put the half-empty cup on the nightstand.

- To hell with it! - Omer sat down on the bed and bent down to kiss his wife.

She turned away, and his lips slid along her cheek.

"Don't... get infected," Defne whispered, hiding her eyes.

- You might think I'm afraid of that.

He straightened up and waited for her to look up. But Defne stubbornly stared everywhere, but not at him. It hurt. And anger him. Damn it, he didn't do anything to deserve that kind of treatment. It's not his fault that his assistant has red hair, it's not his fault that she twisted her leg. Even the fact that she was hired he is not to blame. He did not audition and did not approve of her candidacy. And now he would have fired her if there was at least one reason for this. But there is not! Why doesn't Defne understand this?!

Omer got to his feet, tugged on his trousers, and straightened his belt.

"I won't bother you," he said in the tone of the old iceberg Omer Iplikci. - Call your grandmother immediately. Let her come and be with you. "If my concern is so unpleasant for you," he added mentally and left the room.

Defne looked at the closed door with tearful eyes. Gone. He didn't even try to be persistent and, not giving a damn about her words, stay. But still, quite recently he would have been. He would never have left her alone. Pregnant and sick. He would hug her tightly, and ordered her to lie quietly in his arms and recover. Sniffing and wiping away her tears, Defne picked up the phone.

"Grandma, I'm sick," she croaked plaintively into the receiver and began to cry.

The gloomy Omer sat in the back seat of the Mercedes and nervously tapped drum rolls on his knee with his fingers. Sukru glanced at the boss in the rearview mirror. Several times he tried to say something, but immediately closed his mouth. The driver who had worked with Omer for several years knew firsthand that in such a state it was better not to disturb him.

- Sukru, - before leaving the car near the business center, Omer turned to him, - go now to the market. Buy fruit. The freshest and most organic. And also a ginger root. Take it to Defne and ask Zehra to take good care of her until Mrs.Turkan comes.

- Okay, Mr. Omer, - the driver promised and mentally sighed with relief - so that's why the boss is not himself! With a sympathetic smile, he began to jabber: - Defne caught a cold? Well, that's okay. Zehra and Aunt Turkan will quickly put her on her feet. Don't worry about the fruit. I will buy the best.

"Go, have a nice day", Omer wished and got out of the car.

He went up to Passionis and went to his office. He pulled off his coat, hung it on a hanger, and nervously smoothed his hair. Resentment was still bubbling in his chest. He knew there were two ways to calm down. Defne's gentle touches and complete immersion in work. The first was not possible, and the soul did not want the second. But he cursed himself and sat down at the table.

Lаila entered the office with a tray in her hands. With a sweet smile, she put a cup of coffee in front of the boss and said:

- Good morning, Mr. Omer! You look tired. Do you have a headache? Shall I bring some medicine?

"Thank you, Laila," he answered gloomily. - I do not need anything. Coffee is enough. Did you email me the schedule of the day?

- Yes. There have been some changes. Mr. Shinasi asked to postpone the meeting until 6 pm. In Mano. He is waiting for your decision.

At six in the evening? Anything but that! It was on the day when his wife got sick and he has to be at home in the evening. But the meeting cannot be postponed.

Losing a client like Shinasi would be a huge disadvantage for Passionis. Should he ask Sinan to go instead?

- Laila, has Mr. Sinan come?

The assistant's perfectly drawn auburn eyebrows arched.

- But, Mr. Omer, have you forgotten? Mr. Sinan flew to Croatia. On a business trip.

Heck! Really forgot. Is he in his right mind to remember?

Omer rubbed his forehead wearily with his palm and sighed heavily.

- Call Shinasi. Tell him I agree to a meeting at six in the evening.

Curled up in a ball, Defne lay in the huge matrimonial bed and felt sorry for herself. She felt bad. Very bad. It was not so much the throbbing headache and the sore throat that bothered her, but heavy thoughts. She kept trying to understand when and why her and Omer's trust in each other had shaken. After all, after the experienced trials, it seemed unshakable like a rock. And suddenly, in one moment, everything changed...

Footsteps were heard behind the door, it opened and Zehra entered the room with a tray in her hands.

- Defne, daughter, I made you salep. Fragrant, hot. Have a drink and your throat will immediately become better.

Putting the tray on the nightstand, she helped the girl to sit up in bed. Sliding another pillow under her back and making sure that Defne was comfortable, she handed her a large cup, oozing fragrant steam, and spoke:

- Drink, honey, drink. I set the chicken broth to cook. Aunt Turkan will come and cook her famous soup for you.

Defne, thanking the caring woman with her eyes and a smile, took a sip from the cup. Salep warmed up and covered her throat. The pain really began to subside.

Zehra straightened the blanket, folded up the crumpled cover, continuing talking:

- It is bad that Mr. Omer did not have breakfast. He left for work hungry.

Defne perked up and put the cup aside.

- How did he not have breakfast? - asked in a hoarse whisper.

- He didn't even drink coffee, - answered Zehra. - All dishes are clean and the coffee maker has not been switched on since yesterday. I checked the coffee drawer - clean and empty. As I left it yesterday.

- Allah, - Defne worried and grabbed the phone.

- Whom do you call? Zehra asked.

- At the Lunch restaurant. I'll order breakfast. And then brother Sukru ... let him take it and bring it to Omer. He can't work hungry.

Zehra smiled and took the phone from her.

- Do not worry. And don't strain your throat. Otherwise, you will completely lose your voice. I made sandwiches and filled a breakfast box. Sukru is on his way here, carrying fruit. Omer told him to buy it. So he will deliver breakfast.

"Thank you, Sister Zehra," Defne croaked.

- All right, dear, - the woman smiled and hurried downstairs.

Defne leaned back on the pillows and smiled. Sukru is on his way with fruit. Omer ordered to buy for her.

He thinks about her and worries!

Omer delved deeper into his contract with Shinasi. For an hour he had been reading legal terms, but he had only made it to page three. Work would have gone faster if it hadn't been for each paragraph to be re-read several times. But anxiety for Defne besieged thoughts and made it difficult to concentrate. Omer was worried. He wanted to call, but each time he put his finger down, never hitting the green button on the phone. With Defne were Zehra and grandmother. They will not let anything bad happen. And the wife, if she loves him even a little, let her call herself.

There was a knock on the door. Omer frowned, expecting Laila to show up again with another show of caring for the boss. But on the threshold stood Sukru with a paper bag in his hands.

- What happened? Omer jumped up and stared at the driver in dismay. - Defne got worse?

The driver looked at the boss in surprise and hastened to calm him down:

- No, Mr. Omer. Defne is no worse. No temperature. Zehra takes care of her. But Defne found out that you didn't have breakfast, and was very upset, - Sukru put the package on the table. - Here. Breakfast. Defne asked Zehra to cook and order you to eat every last crumb.

Omer sank into a chair and, closing his eyes for a moment, exhaled. Then he nodded to Sukru:

- Thanks. You can go.

The driver bowed and left. Omer opened the package, inhaled the aroma of toasted bread and, clasping his hands behind his head, leaned back in his chair. A satisfied smile played on his lips. Defne found out that he had not had breakfast and was very upset. She asked Zehra to cook. She told him to eat every last crumb.

She thinks about him and worries!

***

Grandma did not come alone. Defne's jaw dropped when she saw who was accompanying her visit to her sick granddaughter. Omer's grandfather was with her and didn't even lean on the cane.

"Mr. Hulusi was very upset when he found out about your illness and wanted to visit his granddaughter," explained the grandmother and looked at the man coquettishly.

"And how did he know interestingly?" - Defne mentally mocked, but prudently kept silent. She just smiled affably and held out her hands to the old people.

- My bird is sick! - The grandmother complained. - Quickly tell me who offended and upset you!

"Nobody, grandma," Defne hissed. - I am the one to blame. I went outside without a coat and caught a cold.

- And what were you just thinking? - the plaintive tone was replaced by an angry one. "But grandma is here and will quickly put you on your feet. Now we will put a warm compress on your nose and chest, feed you chicken soup, apply mustard plasters to your feet - and by evening you will be as good as new.

Defne shook her head in dismay.

- Grandma, I have no stuffy nose and no cough. Only my throat hurts and my voice is gone.

- The throat of my bird hurts?! Mistress Zehra!!! - Loudly to the whole house shouted

Turkan, and when the woman looked into the room, she importantly ordered: - Honey, in the bag that I brought in there are sage and calendula in canvas bags. Brew and cool to keep warm. We will treat Defne's throat.

The Inquisition lasted all day. Grandmother made her granddaughter gargle with herbs. Stuffed her with syrups, which tasted so nasty that Defne jerked. Turkan covered her neck with warm salt wrapped in cotton and nevertheless put mustard plasters on her feet, which they burned mercilessly. The girl moaned mentally, but heroically performed all stages of the treatment. And she was infinitely happy when the guests were about to leave. Zehra also said goodbye to the hostess and hurried home. As soon as the door closed behind them, Defne jumped out of bed and rushed to the shower.

Pride gave way to love. Again. Omer still called his wife. He listened to beeps for a long time but he did not wait for the hoarse, dear voice. Defne didn't answer, and it became cold inside again. He threw the phone on the table and left the office. He went up to the roof and stopped where Defne stood yesterday. A fresh breeze hit his chest. Omer put his hands in his pockets and presented his face to it.

Defne stepped out of the shower feeling as if she had been reborn. The medieval torture of her grandmother was still effective. The throat hardly hurt, and her voice even emerged a little. A light flashed on the phone, indicating that someone has called. Secretly hoping that it was Omer who remembered his sick pregnant wife, Defne turned on the screen. And happily jumped on the spot. Omer did call. Striking the screen with trembling fingers, she immediately called him back.

"Hello," came a familiar drawn-out voice that Defne would like never to hear in her life. The smile slowly faded from her face. The phone fell from a weakened hand to the floor and the screen went out. Defne sat down on the bed and wrapped her arms around her shoulders.