- What? - asked Omer and tilted his head forward like a bull. - Shouldn't I see you as an opponent? And before that, it should have been?

- Earlier - yes, - answered Baisal honestly. "I'm not asking you to understand me, but I'll try to explain. After the death of my wife, no woman could touch my heart. I thought it was paralyzed and this is forever. And then I saw Defne and realized that I am still alive.

Omer's eyes flared with fury. Clenching his hands into fists, he muttered through his teeth:

- Do you understand that you are now at risk of finding yourself with a broken nose and knocked out teeth?

"I understand," he answered calmly. - But I believe in your endurance as a civilized person.

"I wouldn't believe it if I were you," Omer warned.

- Frankly, - Baisal grinned and looked into the eyes of a man enraged with jealousy: - But do not resort to assault in vain. All is in the past. Your wife is pregnant. It's taboo for me. The child is most important. It should be happy and grow up with his father and mother. Therefore, I crushed all the germs of feelings for Defne, except for respect and admiration for her talent.

"Frankly," Omer repeated coldly. - And what do you want from me? Why all these confessions?

Baisal smiled sadly and made an indefinite gesture with his hands.

"The child's desire is the most important," he said. - But I already said that. Jansu is my biggest weakness. I cannot deny her anything. And she wants Omer Iplikci wedding shoes. Exclusive. Made just for her. Therefore, I pacified my pride, opened my soul to you, and humbly ask you to fulfill my daughter's wish.

The rage was gone. Omer looked at the man who, from the first minute of his acquaintance, evoked in him a fit of burning jealousy mixed with fear, and understood that these feelings no longer tear his soul. In front of him stood just a man. And this person needs a service to make his daughter happy. Who is he to deny him this?

"Okay," Omer agreed. - I will do. But I need to see the dress again. Last time I ignored it.

- Well, yes, - Baisal grinned. - Last time you had no time for a dress.

Omer slowly turned his head and looked at the man in such a way that he immediately raised his hands up and backed down:

- I am silent! My reply was redundant. The dress has already been delivered to our home. You can drive up and look at it at any time.

"Bad idea," Omer answered harshly. - I would prefer a neutral territory.

- No problem, - Baisal agreed. - I'll rent a hotel room near your business center, my assistant will bring the dress there. Jansu and I will also drive up, and you and she will discuss all the nuances on the spot.

This solution was perfectly acceptable. After thinking for a few seconds, Omer accepted the offer:

- Good. May your assistant contacts my assistant on Monday and resolve this issue. If that's all you wanted to discuss, then all the best. I would like to return to my wife.

"I will not delay you," Baisal held out his hand and looked straight into the eyes of his interlocutor. - Thank you, Mr. Omer. I confess I was sure of your refusal. And in the integrity of my nose too, - added mockingly and with the index finger of his other hand touched the bridge of his nose.

"Your nose was in rather great danger," Iplikci replied in tune and shook the outstretched hand.

Omer entered the hall and scanned the crowd. Defne stood where he left her and talked with Seda. Sinan was nearby. The girls were probably joking, because the friend, forgetting about decency, laughed uncontrollably.

"How did you make Sinan laugh so much?" - Stopping next to his wife, asked Omer.

"Nothing special," she smiled. - I told them about baby Iso.

"I finally realized that I want a child," Sinan said confidently, to which Seda raised her eyebrows comically.

- Maybe we'll get married first? She asked him.

"We'll get married," he agreed cheerfully. - And we will have immediately.

- Sinan! - The bride was indignant. - The child is what? A dog to have it?

- I agree! To have is the wrong word, - Sinan rubbed his chin thoughtfully and happily exclaimed: - We'll do it! Exactly the right word. Let's make a child.

"Be quiet, for the sake of Allah," Seda groaned and covered her eyes with her hand. - What will all this worthy audience think of us!

Omer took Defne by the elbow and nodded at the dancing couples:

- Let's go and dance.

- With pleasure.

He took his wife to the center of the hall and hugged her around the waist. She put her left hand on his shoulder, and the right one sank into his palm. Omer smoothly and slowly led her in a dance. They moved to the beat of the melody and looked into each other's eyes. And again, like a year and a half ago, space and time have dissolved. The crowd of guests disappeared, the walls and parquet flooring underfoot. All that's left is the music. They floated in the air and melted with bliss.

- Will I learn someday? Defne asked quietly.

- What will you learn? - asked Omer and his voice enveloped her in soft velvet.

- Calmly to look at you. Remembering to breathe. And so that my heart doesn't stop every time you smile at me.

- Do you want it?

He looked into her soul. He caressed with a glance. And from these disembodied touches, her heart sank in her chest. Defne shook her head.

- No. I want to continue racing at breakneck speed in a car that I can't control. Every moment by the cliff. Not breathing. Excited. Feeling that I live.

Omer gasped for breath and pressed her hand to his chest.

- I'm with you.

- Ahtem, what's wrong with you? - asked Laura looking at her husband's frowning face. Just a minute ago, he was smiling and suddenly darkened. She followed his gaze. He looked at the man. Laura saw him for the first time, but his face seemed unpleasant to her. - Who is he? She asked.

- The owner of the firm "Turkish Gold" Hussein Chatay, - Ahtem answered through clenched teeth. - A rare scoundrel. Didn't expect to see him here.

"He's heading toward us," Laura said anxiously.

- I see.

"Ahtem," the man who approached exclaimed. - Are you invited too?

- Does that surprise you? - Without greeting, Ahtem asked a counter-question and pointedly put his hands in his pockets.

The man grinned and turned to Laura:

- Beautiful lady, let me introduce myself...

"This is unnecessary," Ahtem cut him off. - Don't waste time showing courtesy. Say what you want and get out.

- How rude you are, - Hussein Chatay mockingly rebuked him.

- I am like that, - Ahtem did not remain in debt.

- They say you are now a co-owner of a jewelry company?

- What difference does it make to you?

"Don't tell me," the man drawled. - New competitors are definitely in the range of my interests.

Ahtem came close to him and glared at him.

- Forget it! – He ordered. - The Sapphire is too tough for you. Flounder in your swamp and beyond. And don't you even dare breathe towards our company. Got it? - He took Laura by the arm and, measuring his competitor with a contemptuous look, led her to the other end of the hall.

"Let's see," Hussein Chatay hissed at his back.

- Ahtem, - Laura stopped her husband by the elbow. They were quite far away from the unpleasant man, and he could not hear them. But his behavior and words seriously alarmed the creative director of Sapphire. - Can he give us problems?

Ahtem looked into his wife's face. Clever, discerning face. Lying to her will only disturb her even more. She will feel the lie, and, of course, understand why he is hiding the truth.

"Maybe," he replied and sighed. "But don't worry. We will not allow this. Let's keep our ears open. Omer has already alerted security.

- Does Defne know?

- No. Omer doesn't want to disturb her.

- I, too, would not have learned anything if this impudent person had not come up to us? Yes?

- Yes, - Ahtem agreed and took her hand. - Darling, understand - I will do anything to save you from anxiety. You are pregnant and you should be calm and happy. Chatay is a scoundrel, but we know about it and will be on our guard. Do not worry! Good?

"Okay," Laura smiled at him.

- That is great! - Ahtem smiled softly. - Come on, let's dance.

Mr. Kartal turned out to be a restrained but attentive gentleman. He invited Mirai to dance and during the dance behaved like an impeccably well-mannered man. He did not draw her closer to him, did not squeeze her palm, he did not fumble with his hand on her back. He just looked steadily. Mirai couldn't understand his gaze. There was no insolence or greasy shine in him, but there was something that made her heart beat faster.

After the dance, he asked if she was thirsty and Mirai nodded in the affirmative. He left for drinks, and she went to a marble pillar. A mocking voice sounded very close:

- I can't believe my eyes! Mirai, is that you?

She closed her eyes for a moment, and then proudly lifted her chin and turned. An ex-girlfriend stood in front of her. Once upon a time, Mirai considered her a sister. She shared her thoughts and female secrets. And then her husband attacked and raped her. And the friend took his side and accused her of shamelessness. Fear rolled down her spine in an icy wave. If she is here, then ... and so is he.

"Hello," she said.

- Hello! - The woman held out and examined Mirai from head to toe. - And how did you get here? No waitress uniform. I heard - do you work here?

"No," Mirai replied with restraint. - I work in the marketing department of a jewelry company.

- Even so? The woman asked ironically. - Who are those naive, to whom you managed to powder the brains?

Mirai's face did not flinch. Pretending not to hear the question, she asked her own:

- Are you here with your husband?

- Yes. With the second, - said the woman. - Don't you know anything? It's strange. All newspapers wrote about this and the news was a week on television.

- I do not watch television. No time.

- Oh yes! You are now a beggar and have to earn your own bread," the ex-girlfriend smirked ironically." - Then I'll tell you. My first husband, whom you seduced...

"Who raped me," Mirai corrected her coldly.

"Well, that's your version," she said contemptuously. - So, my first husband could not survive the dirty accusations that you brought him. After all, many believed. He started drinking. Once he fell asleep drunk with a lit cigarette in his hand. It fell on the bed ... the fire ... that's all. I became a widow.

"It's a dog's death," Mirai answered harshly.

"But I loved him," the woman hissed angrily. - If it wasn't for you!

- Did he love you? Hazal, open your eyes! He was a monster. And you knew about it.

The woman brought her face close to Mirai's and poked her finger in the chest.

- It's not for you to judge this! You stay in your hole. Delivering cups. So you would continue to do it! Why the devil came to a decent society? You! Filthy rubbish!

- Be silent! - The voice was low, but from his tone, Hazal twitched. Kartal came close and ordered: - Get out. One more word and I cannot vouch for myself.

The woman did not argue. She seemed to wake up. Perplexedly, she looked around, then turned sharply and, swaying, left.

Kartal turned to Mirai and looked into her face. It was pale as a sheet. The woman raised her dry eyes, burning with feverish fire, and asked:

- Get me out of here. Please.

- Yes, of course, - he agreed and, taking her by the elbow, led her to the stairs.

In the car, she leaned her temple against the door trim and closed her eyes. Squeezing the steering wheel, Kartal looked sideways at her face and saw one single tear that slowly rolled down her cheek.

- Did you hear everything? Mirai asked hoarsely.

"Yes," he replied. - I came back to ask which drink you prefer. And I heard your conversation.

She shuddered and sighed convulsively.

- Now you despise me?

Looking ahead towards the road, Kartal replied:

"Now I admire you even more."

She opened her eyes and looked at his hard as if carved from stone, profile.

- For what?

She didn't understand. She really didn't understand.

- For not breaking down.

He stopped the car at the curb and turned to Mirai.

"Now I understand where this restraint comes from. And why you avoid men. You've been through hell. As much as a person wants to forget, suffering leaves an imprint on his life. Forcing us to hide in a shell and not allow new pain. I understand.

Mirai began to cry. Covering her face with her hands, she shrank in the seat and became like a small, unhappy bird. Kartal held out his hand to her. Then he pulled it back. He ran his hand over his face. He looked at the sobbing figure and hugged her. Laying the woman's head on his chest, he stroked her hair and whispered:

- Cry. It will get easier.

In the humming crowd of smartly dressed men and women, Hazal intercepted the waiter with the tray, took two glasses of champagne, and in one gulp, one after the other drank both.

- Hey dear, calm down! - Her husband snatched the empty wine glasses from her hands and, returning them to the tray, gestured to the waiter to leave. - What upset you so?

"They're letting in all kinds of trash," she hissed angrily.

- Are you talking about the woman you talked to? - Hazal nodded affirmatively. - Who is she?

- My enemy! The woman clutched her ruby-encrusted clutch with her fingers. "I thought I dropped her to the bottom and she would rot there. Will die along with her offspring. And she got out. She got a job at a jewelry company. - Hazal gritted her teeth and groaned: - I hate her!

- Shhhh! Her husband hissed and squeezed her elbow. - Pull yourself together and don't make a public show. What company does this personal irritant of yours work for? Not in Sapphire, by any chance?

- I do not know. What is Sapphire?

- New firm. Painfully active. They work for a week without a year, and they already think of themselves as kings. Upstarts, - the man grinned angrily and asked his wife: - So what do you say is her name? This woman?

"Mirai Astarhan," Hazal spat angrily.

"Mirai Astarhan," the man repeated thoughtfully.

***

At home, in the dressing room, throwing off her shoes and twisting to unbutton her dress, Defne asked Omer:

- What did you talk about with Mr. Baisal?

Omer, leaving his shirt, which he was unbuttoning at that time, went up to his wife and helped to cope with the lock. Kissing the rounded shoulder in passing, he returned to his undress and replied:

- He asked to make wedding shoes for his daughter.

Defne turned abruptly and stared at her husband.

- And you agreed?

- Yes, - he answered indifferently and looked into his wife's astonished face. - What surprises you?

- Until recently, you breathed fire from the mere mention of his name. Have you agreed to do him a favor now? I see no logic.

Omer shrugged. Pulling off his shirt, threw it on the floor, and grabbed the belt of his trousers.

"He was able to convince me that there was no longer any reason for my ill-will towards him.

Defne was just buttoning up the buttons on her silk pajamas. She stopped and looked at her husband warily.

- No more? - asked again. - But before there was a reason?

- There were, - Omer answered with seeming calmness. He took off his pants and pulled on his pajama pants. Then he pressed his naked torso against the wall and folded his arms over his chest. - How did he say? Now I will remember literally. Yeah ... "After the death of my wife, no woman could touch my heart. I thought it was paralyzed and this is forever. And then I saw Defne and realized that it was still alive," Omer plausibly imitated Baisal's voice. - After these words, I miraculously restrained myself so as not to send him with the right fist to knockout.

- And why didn't you send him? - Shocked by what she heard, Defne asked in confusion.

- I remembered that this was your first reception of this class, and realized that I could not spoil it with a fight, - he answered honestly. - And then Baisal announced that he found out about your pregnancy and strangled all feelings in himself. Because children are above all else. "Omer's ostentatious, calm tone nevertheless broke into irony." - The Turkish father Gorrio!*

*(translator's note - a reference to Balzac's novel Grandfather Gorrio, whose protagonist gives everything for his two daughters and eventually dies in poverty)

Defne dumbfounded looking in front of her, sat down on the ottoman. Then she raised her eyes to her husband, in which, like a fire, anger flared up:

- Did he have any intentions on me? A married woman?!

"As you can see," Omer replied sarcastically. "You didn't believe me."

- Holy heaven! She shook her head. - What a scoundrel! You were right. I swear - no more contacts! No business meetings, no phone calls. The jewelry is almost ready, let Ahtem and Laura decide on everything with him.

Omer detached himself from the wall, went up to his wife, and squatted down in front of her. Gently tucked her hair behind her ears, looked into her eyes, and said:

- I am glad! This Baisal really blew my brain. If you stop all contact with him, I will be happy.

"I'll stop," Defne promised. - But I do not understand. How did you agree to make wedding shoes for his daughter after such a confession?

Omer shrugged his shoulders vaguely and looked away.

- I am also a Turkish father Gorio, - joked at himself. - I think that children are above all. And if the impudent troublemaker princess Jansu Baisal wants shoes from Iplikci that would match her mother's dress and the jewelry created by you and Ahtem, then I will make them.

Defne smiled, either with affection, or with admiration, or with both, and kissed her husband. Pulling back, rubbing her nose against his, and whispered:

- You are the most generous and fair person in the world.

Omer kissed her on the nose and raised an eyebrow in derision.

"I'll remind these words to you when you call me a die-hard head again," Defne chuckled. He stood up and pulled her by the hand into the bedroom. - Let's go to sleep. It's too late.

***

On Monday morning, Omer went to his office and called Laila. She appeared on the doorstep, beaming with a dazzling smile, and greeted in a sugary sweet voice:

- Good morning, Mr. Omer! How are you feeling? The weekend has been good for you. You look great.

He frowned and motioned to stop her from speaking.

- Good morning, Laila. Let's get to work.

"I beg your pardon," she feigned resentment and shot the boss a glance. But he looked at the laptop, and her brilliant acting trick went unnoticed.

"Go to the schedule," the boss ordered.

Laila opened a document on her tablet and read out the list.