"I need one dance..."

Ah, he's singing. Or rather, he's singing along to a song. It's nice that he's so cheerful when I have such a headache. I'm even hostile to the sunlight coming in through the window. I put on my slippers and dressing gown and leave my room. Right opposite my room is the kitchen. He's dancing in front of the counter, scrambling eggs. Or something.

I rub my eyes. "Ezra, what time is it?"

"Good morning to you too. It's already morning. I'm going to be a bit late today and I thought maybe we could have a nice breakfast."

He takes a frying pan from the cupboard and puts it on the hob. He opens the bottom.

"Wow, it's been a month since I moved here and this is the first time you've been in the kitchen to make something other than coffee. I thought these pans came from inside the house."

I go to the table, tidy my hair and place two plates side by side.

"Give me a break, I usually do the dishes. Hey, please serve three, not two." he lowers his voice, "I have a guest."

Only then, I realize the sound of water in the bathroom. I raise my eyebrows, "You have a guest?"

"Yes. You were asleep when we showed up. You must have slept very deeply. So you didn't hear anything."

I'm disgusted. "Shut up, please. I'm grateful I didn't hear anything. I took melatonin last night because I couldn't sleep from thinking for so long."

He's dividing the omelet he cooked onto plates. He continues to talk to me. "Why can't you sleep from thinking? What are you thinking about? Maybe I can help you."

Just as I was about to open my mouth and say something, a floral scent that overpowers the breakfast smells in the kitchen enters between us. When I turn my head, I see a blonde, green-eyed, tall woman with a beauty that many men in Turkey would worship. Wow Ezra, congratulations. I can't even be jealous, it's not my place.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

"Hi there, I think you're the stranger staying in my old room. I'm Claire."

Ezra carefully fills the orange juice he takes out of the fridge as if this is the most important job right now. "Claire, this is Meryem. My new flatmate. Temporary, of course. She'll be gone in a few months."

She'll be gone in a few months. What a way to say, "Don't worry, I won't give her your place."

I guess I still wouldn't be able to utter a single sentence if waiting longer would fit the rules of manners. "Hi, Claire. I'm Meryem. Nice to meet you."

I need to know this story. I need to understand what kind of relationship they have. She used to live here, but she doesn't live here now. Obviously there's an attraction between them, but for how long? Does the fact that she no longer lives here have anything to do with it?

While I'm having breakfast, I can't participate in the conversation because I'm listening to my own questions and the thoughts running round and round in my head like foxes chasing each other. I hardly even hear them. Ezra finally said, " Meryem, Claire asked you a question. Did you hear it?"

I swallow the food in my mouth. "Oh, I'm so sorry. I got distracted. Can you ask me again?"

"I was wondering what you do for a living."

When I look at her face to answer, I lock her eyes. "Claire. Wow. You have beautiful eyes."

She smiles and thanks me.

"I'm a doctor, that's what I am in Turkey. But I took some free leave for a while to relax a little. I came to travel."

Ezra rolls his eyes, "I don't know how this is traveling, you have barely left the house for a month."

I put my fork on the table, "This breakfast cannot be eaten with orange juice. Have you ever had Turkish tea before? I bought some for myself, let's brew it and drink it."

I pour a cup of tea for them and myself. Ezra gives me a look that shows he realizes I've changed the subject. What's it to you Ezra, you have a girlfriend like a beauty goddess.

I learn that Claire is a psychologist and that she and Ezra met at school, but I don't know the name of their relationship. Claire looks at my ring and asks where the "lucky man" is.

Honestly, I don't know either, and I'm not even curious. It seems like we're both avoiding each other with one text a day, using the time difference as an excuse. How can I explain all this?

I just say, "He works in Turkey, maybe you can meet him when he has time to come here." I think that if I say that, the questions will stop and that's what happens.

Claire and Ezra leave the house together. I call my father.

"Meryem, you have caused us trouble. Was there no school anywhere else but the other side of the world? If you were in Istanbul, we could have gotten this wedding out of the way." As always, these are the most compassionate words my father says to me from the other side of the world.

If it wasn't for the insistence of my teachers, I wouldn't even have been able to go to high school. If I hadn't threatened to kill myself, they would never have sent me to Istanbul to study medicine. Now, if I hadn't used my education as an excuse again, I would have been married already. You gave me no choice but to stall you and run away from you, father.