Burak was watching some Turkish drama when the doorbell rang. He moved to open the main door and as it opened, he saw her. Zerah.

“Hi, I came to return this.” She was holding the container.

“Oh, thanks.” He took it from her, “Please, come inside.”

“No, I just came to give that.” She was about to leave.

“Oh, please, it's not every day you get a chance to host a gorgeous lady. Please, come in.”He moved aside, inviting her inside.

Zerah wanted to leave, but she entered the apartment. His smile was something she couldn't resist. It gave her the warmth, the affection she yearned for all these years.

Burak's smile widened and he quickly went to the kitchen to make some Turkish tea for his guest.

“Tell me something about yourself, Zerah.” He spoke from the kitchen, leaning against the shelf.

Zerah was hesitating. And he saw that on her face so he begin himself, “Alright, let's start with my introduction. Merhaba, I am Burak Sarsalimaz. A psychiatrist by profession. As you must know by now, my cooking sucks. Yet I keep torturing my family, friends and neighbours with my food. About family, my father is a neurosurgeon and is happily living with his second wife and kids. My mother died of depression like ten years ago.”He rambled while putting ingredients into the boiling liquid.

“Died with depression?” That's what caught her attention. Depression isn't deadly, I mean, mentally yes, but not physically.

“Suicide. She had a mental condition. But she was a wonderful mother before all that began.” He wasn't sad at all. As if it was very normal for him to talk about his mother's suicide.

“Is that why you chose to study psychology?” The psychiatrist inside her asked.

“Yes.” He nodded.

“Why are you so comfortable telling me about all of it?”

“I am just like that. You are not the first person to be surprised. I am like an open book. I talk about my traumas as if I am talking about the puppy I never had.”He chuckled at the end.

“I am a Pakistani. My father died when I was a year or so. My mother had to marry her cousin. My stepfather was not very fond of me. He wanted me far away from his family. Luckily I got a scholarship to a Turkish university and I came here. I studied criminal psychology and fell in love with a guy. But he left for some good reasons. I went back, my stepfather got me married to a stranger who turns out to be an abusive husband. A few weeks ago, he was murdered.”

And it was all silent.

She said it all, skipping Ayaz's part, of course.

“So you studied criminal psychology?” Burak picked up a light-hearted conversation.

She nodded.

“Are you gonna pursue your career in that field?” He asked because he doubted that a person with an abusive past would look forward to pursuing a field associated with crime and criminals.

“No. That would be too depressing for me. I may also end up dying with depression.” She smiled sadly, rephrasing the words he used for his mother's suicide.

“So what other career plans do you have?”

“A bakery.”

“Means lots and lots of cakes, pancakes, and pastries. That's heaven for me.”Burak exclaimed.

“It's yet to happen, Burak.”

“My name sounds so sweet from your mouth. Oh, you are a baker-to-be. Of course, it will sound sweet.”He joked.

“You are such a flatterer.”

“Anything for free pancakes.”

“You'll end up burning the tea and your kitchen.” She pointed at the tea that was boiling up to the brim.

Burak immediately turned off the stove.

“Woah! Thanks for saving my tea.” He jokingly thanked her.

And that was the beginning of their friendship.

🍁🍂🍁🍂🍁

A M o n t h L a t e r

🍁🍂🍁🍂🍁

“Burak, you are going to break the cutlery. Put it down immediately.” Zerah yelled from the kitchen area of her newly opened bakery.

Burak, who was struggling to walk with a heavy box filled with a variety of forks, spoons and knives, begrudgingly put it down.

“I was trying to help.” He protested in defence.

“I didn't ask for your help.” She walked to him and picked a set of cutlery from the box.

“All you want is a free pancake.” She turned around to go to the kitchen, but his voice halted her steps

“I also want free cookies.” He demanded with seriousness, which only increased the humour of the situation.

“Earlier it was just a pancake.” She argued.

“I didn't know cookies were on the menu.” He argued back.

“I don't want to argue over this petty issue. You'll get the cookies.” And she went to the kitchen area.

“Hey, I was having fun arguing with you.” He followed her like a tail.

“I knew it very well.” She walked away to bring another set of cutlery.

“You are such a fun killer.” He pouted.

“Shut up and bring me the recipe books from your apartment. I forgot to bring them.”

“Okay, make sure my cookies and pancake are ready by the time I return.” He fake warned her before leaving.

🍁🍂🍁🍂🍁

Zerah was busy decorating the tables when the bell at the glass door chimed indicating that maybe her very first customer came.

She turned around with a smile gracing her face, all ready to greet her first customer. However, the sight of it surprised her.

It was him.

“Ayaz...” She whispered to herself.

“Zerah.” He smiled and walked to her.

She was silent. Not able to believe that he was standing in front of her. She had thought they'll never meet again. But they did.

“Nice bakery. Can I get some cookies?” He asked.

She smiled and nodded, immediately moving to the kitchen to pack some cookies for him.

He stood against the counter that worked as the barrier between the kitchen and the sitting area.

“I am marrying Derya.” He announced out of blue.

Zerah froze at her place. Too shocked to move.

“You know, she is very familiar with my dark world. She is a part of it since her birth, serving the mafia. And when she confessed, I chose to accept her.” He kind of tried to explain his decision of marrying his maid.

“I understand, Ayaz. I am not sad, I am just shocked.” She clarified while coming to stand against the counter from the kitchen side.

“So are you happy?” He asked.

“I am happy for you, Ayaz.” She smiled wholeheartedly.

“Just remember that I'll always love you, as my first love.”

“I'll love you too, as my first love.” Tears brimmed her eyes.

“I should leave before your soon-to-be boyfriend comes. Bye.” He smiled and grabbed the box of cookies from her hands.

And he was gone.

And Zerah just kept looking at the exit till the time Burak didn't return with the recipe books.

When Burak returned, he noticed the change in her behaviour. She got more silent.

“Can I get my cookies?” He asked.

Zerah passed him the remaining two cookies she saved for him.

“Only two?” He asked with shock and disappointment.

“A customer came.”

“How tragic.” He sighed and took a bite of cookies.

“My husband was murdered by the guy I used to love. He belonged to a Mafia family. He killed him and brought me to Turkey. Because he wanted to give me the life I deserved.” She told, all of a sudden.

“And why are you telling me this?” Burak asked while awkwardly munching the cookies in his mouth.

“I don't know.” She moved to the kitchen area again, busying herself with baking.

Burak was left speechless. When he gained his senses back, he moved closer to her. Zerah knew what was coming next. The humour, the fun, all was gone. The air filled with love and passion. His face came closer to hers. Within seconds, their lips sealed together. So did their fates.