7: JUST SOMEBODY

Sometimes, you realize that to the one you love most, you're just somebody. All doors seem like they were created to leave you behind them. Even your fate feels as if it was written early on—and in darkness—to keep pushing that door, knowing full well the person behind it will never open it with a smile or any sense of welcome.

When Poyraz disappeared behind the gray door, he closed it before speaking to the attendant and handing over the barcode. Taking a deep breath, I looked at the ring he'd left on the chair. A tremble had begun in my chin. My heart was pushing outward like it was being pulled with pliers; it was paying the price of a dull, aching sorrow with cramps.

His sentence kept echoing in my ears…

Every time I thought about the word "somebody," I got stuck.

I stood there waiting for about five minutes. Wasn't I the one who had left him just yesterday? The one who decided we wouldn't see each other again? Who wanted to remove him from my life? So why was I now circling around him again, spinning like a moth to flame? This couldn't be my destiny. I knew it. I had a will. But what had become of that will? If the thing I called will was just being a slave in front of him, if it meant giving him my heart again and again knowing he would crush it, then this was nothing more than addiction—a kind of captivity. And what good was realizing it, if I wasn't going to act on it?

There was movement at the door.

Poyraz stepped outside with wide strides, leaving the door half open. Without making eye contact, he picked up the steel ring resting on the chair and slowly slipped it back onto his thumb as before. He paused for a moment, then turned slightly toward me—as if guessing I was there, without even looking.

"To break the silence, I asked, "When will the results be ready?"

He played with his ring indifferently.

"I didn't ask… Probably two or three hours. In the meantime…"

He repeated the words in a muffled voice.

"Let's go home."

"No," I said, immediately objecting.

"What if something happens? And besides, we still need to get your head bandaged."

"There's no need," he said. "You'd get wrapped up for something like that?"

"A whole flowerpot fell on your head, are you even aware of that?" I snapped.

It wasn't hard to understand that he hated himself just as much as he didn't care about me.

He opened his arms to the sides.

"What do you want me to do? The past is the past. Should I go back in time and catch the flowerpot? Besides… it's easier to pass time at home. Hospitals make me uncomfortable…"

It made me uncomfortable too,

but in case of an emergency, being here was better.

While a flood of fearful thoughts passed through my mind, Poyraz nudged me with his voice:

"So? Aren't we going?"

Even if my answer was no,

his gloomy one would somehow override it.

"Let's stay here," I said.

"If we go home… I'll keep thinking something could happen to you and lose my mind."

He laughed with a trace of irritation.

"Nothing will happen to me…"

Staring directly at him, I said,

"You can't know that."

"You're not a god…"

"If something's meant to happen to me, won't it happen anyway?"

"This isn't fate, it's carelessness," I said, trying to catch up with his words in frustration.

"Come on, let's get your head bandaged…"

He let out another harsh breath through his mouth.

"Why are you forcing me?"

He left a sigh's worth of space after his sentence.

"So what if I have a wound?

If you think about everything this much, life becomes unlivable.

And even if something were wrong, I'd faint.

Besides, I don't like things like bandages—they're constraining.

They'll ruin the look of my face," he said sharply.

"No," I said, ignoring him. "Stop twisting the topic with your words. Can't you see how…"

I paused when the weight of the words knotted in my throat.

"Can't you see how worried I am?"

"I see," he said calmly. There was no expression on his face.

"Then act like it," I said, wagging my finger at him.

A woman passing by glanced at me because I had raised my voice.

Lowering my voice slightly, I continued, "Stop trying to dominate me all the time!"

Why did my voice sink inside me when I stood up to him?

Even a big exclamation at the end of the sentence couldn't save me.

"Fine," he said. "Let's get it wrapped, but I'll take it off in an hour."

"No, you won't," I said and grabbed his arm a bit harshly. "Walk!"

There was no other way to convince him.

He pulled his arm free in one swift motion—

but kept walking beside me.

We passed the injection room and walked toward the nurse's station inside an empty room where basic treatments were done.

"Hello," I said with a smile.

The nurse smiled back at us. "Yes, how can I help you?"

"Um... a flowerpot fell on my friend's head... Could we get it bandaged?"

The nurse smiled again and glanced over us quickly.

"Did a doctor see him?"

Nodding my head, I said, "Yes. A scan was taken—we're waiting for the results."

"Alright," the woman said and stood up from her chair.

She pulled on a fresh pair of gloves and dipped a piece of cotton into iodine.

In the meantime, I got Poyraz to sit on the red chair.

He looked uneasy and impatient.

"Stay still," I said so he wouldn't keep bouncing his knees.

He didn't resist.

The nurse stood in front of him and leaned toward his forehead.

Poyraz instinctively pulled back—then froze.

She began to clean the wound.

"It's not deep, but it bled a lot," she muttered, then tossed the cotton aside and started dressing the area since cleaning was done.

Poyraz's eyes had closed.

About fifteen seconds later, the white bandage was crossing over his forehead like a road.

As the silence grew, the nurse said, "All done." Then she removed her gloves and threw them away with the remaining materials.

"You're good to go. Get well soon…"

Without responding, Poyraz stood up from the chair and followed me with a scowl.

At the door, I told him, "Be kinder to people."

"About what?" His voice was filled with resentment.

"When someone says thank you, say you're welcome," I said, continuing to walk.

"That's her job… if that's who you mean. She gets paid for it," he replied. "There's nothing in it that's going to change because of my thank you."

"You always have an answer for everything," I said with a sigh. "People aren't objects… Show some care."

"People aren't worth caring about," he said, and we had already reached the exit as he spoke.

"Why are you so full of hate?" I asked as the cold air outside the hospital hit my face.

"This isn't hate—it's me," he said, fidgeting with his ring to distract himself.

"And why are you so…" he laughed bitterly, "…fluffy-hearted?"

"You must find me ridiculous like this," I said, squinting. My skin prickled with the sting of being belittled. Just then, a phone started ringing. The ringtone blending into the crowd caught my attention as Poyraz pulled his phone from his pocket. He looked at the screen. His brows didn't move. He stared at the screen blankly.

"I'll be right there," he said.

As he was about to turn around, I grabbed his arm.

He pulled the phone away from me as if I had stepped into his private space.

"Who is it?"

Saying that, I felt as if I'd almost lost my voice.

"Is it her? The woman calling?"

"You're being ridiculous…" he said dismissively.

My anger surged.

"Don't lie to me," I said through gritted teeth. "Don't. Lie. To me!"

"Stop shouting," he warned.

"Then don't make me shout. Who is it—tell me. You can't play me like a toy…"

"My business partner," he said. "Alright?"

"That woman," I said, shaking my head to myself. "That's why you never give details…"

"That woman, yes, but my business partner," he said, raising his voice and emphasizing each word.

"Got it?"

I shook my head.

"Or what—are you going to forbid me from seeing her? The owner of your platform is a man. Do I say anything about that?" he said, switching into defense mode. He was trying to justify himself.

"I don't go out to dinner with him, Poyraz… I don't talk to him on the phone."

He ended the call with fury.

"I can't quit my job for you…"

My eyes felt heavy. "No one asked you to quit your job!" I wanted to scream, but I was too hurt. I couldn't control my voice.

"Then why are you talking like this?" he said angrily.

"You don't get to police what I say!" I snapped back with the same rage. "And don't you dare raise your voice."

"You're the one pushing me to it."

"No one's pushing you to anything, Poyraz. People passing by are looking at us. Slow down. And… If you're talking about normal stuff, then why do you turn your back, why do you hide your phone? Why do you leave me and then call me back? Are you okay in the head?" The weight of my words was too much—I was about to cry. "You can't have private conversations with her…" I said, pulling myself together. He couldn't crush me like this. "I don't know if there's really something between us or not… But you're acting like there is…"

So was I. I knew that. Still, I kept talking: "You can't keep secrets from me…"

His eyes were locked on me as I continued. "We're in a relationship…"

A captive relationship…

The moment I realized it was nothing more than that, everything started to go black before my eyes. The whole world, the people… Sounds began to buzz in my ears. I wanted to change my life.

But I couldn't even breathe.

I was only his prisoner, and nothing more.

At that moment, I truly wanted to leave him.

To take off and go to the far end of the world and never come back.

Could I do that?

Despite his blank expression, I didn't want to cry.

I didn't have the strength to stand against him, but staying… Maybe today was the day.

Could I start everything over?

"If you don't tell me what happened between you and that woman, it's over," I said, my voice mixing with the sounds of children.

Poyraz's eyes clung to me like a sinister spirit.

I felt that he wasn't afraid.

Maybe he had nothing to lose…

Then why wouldn't he let me leave?

What would happen if it was over?

I struggled to breathe.

My feet were glued to the ground… I was still here, and the phone rang again.

When that sound yanked me from my dream world and threw me into reality, I grabbed the phone from his hand with all my strength. Now the ringtone echoed in my ears.

On the screen, a name flashed—no Mr. or Ms., just a name: Selin.