Fatih gently pulled out the chair, motioning for Deniz to sit. By now, Deniz had fully slipped into her role. With exaggerated movements, she placed her bag on the table and tossed her hair back.
"Ohhh, thank you so much!" she said, her voice pitched an octave higher. "You're such a gentleman! You hardly ever come across polite men like you these days."
Fatih sat across from her, curiosity in his eyes. The contrast between this woman's appearance and her behavior was becoming more and more obvious.
"Would you like some coffee?" Fatih asked.
"Ohhh yes, yes!" Deniz clapped her hands. Even though she hated sugary drinks, she added, "But make it really sweet. I love sweets! You know what they say, a girl with a sweet tooth is sweet herself!" she murmured.
While Fatih spoke to the waiter, Deniz took a mirror out of her bag and started checking her makeup. She exaggeratedly applied lipstick to her lips and fixed her hair.
"Can I ask you something?" Deniz said, still looking in the mirror. "Is military service hard? I mean, men in the army are always so muscular and handsome. You're always in shape… I think it's so romantic!"
Fatih took a sip of his coffee. "It's not romantic, actually—it's quite tough."
"Ohhh, but soldiers look so good in uniform!" Deniz pressed her hand to her chest.
"I've always liked rich, successful men. So… how's the salary? My girlfriends always ask me, you know—how much do soldiers earn?"
Fatih frowned slightly but stayed silent.
"I'm honestly used to luxury," Deniz went on, her voice growing more artificial by the second. "For example, the other day my mom said, 'Honey, why don't you buy a car?' And I told her, 'Mom, I want a BMW, I don't want a Volkswagen.' Because all my friends have luxury cars."
"I see," Fatih replied calmly.
"Ohhh, and another thing!" Deniz slapped her hands excitedly on the table. "I'm very smart! I was always top of my class at university. My professors used to say, 'Derya, you're a genius.' Recently I did a project about the atom—it was very complex, but of course I solved it!"
This time Fatih looked at her more closely. The contrast between her exaggerated words and the intelligence in her eyes was becoming increasingly amusing.
"So what do you do in your free time?" Deniz asked, raising her voice even higher. "I love shopping! Especially in expensive stores! Everyone says I spend too much money, but I tell them I'm used to luxury!"
Fatih could no longer hide the smile tugging at his lips. This woman was either truly like this, or she was a very good actress…
"Ohhh, and I'm very sensitive!" Deniz batted her eyelashes. "I always cry at romantic movies. Men need to protect me—because I'm so delicate, such a refined girl!"
That last sentence was the final straw for Fatih. First, a small smile, then a suppressed chuckle, and finally, he couldn't hold it in anymore—he burst into deep laughter. He laughed until his eyes watered.
"Okay, okay, I get it!" he said, still catching his breath. "You were sent here against your will. Your mission is to get rid of me. It's been a long time since I laughed this hard."
Deniz looked surprised at first, staring at his laughter. But a moment later, she relaxed.
"Don't force yourself anymore—let's just have coffee," Fatih continued with a smile. "Because I'm not planning to get married either."
"Phew, thank you!" Deniz sighed. "If I had to keep talking like that any longer, my jaw would have popped out."
Fatih laughed and shook his head. "I noticed. You have a much tougher demeanor—these frilly girl roles must exhaust you."
Deniz gave him a mocking smile. "Look at you, you must know these types well. Isn't that a soldier thing? You love dolled-up dolls, don't you?"
Fatih took a sip of his coffee. "Not exactly love… but after months living only among men, I guess we miss feminine manners."
Deniz burst into genuine laughter. "What an honest gentleman! So, tell me—are there any of those feminine, cutesy girls around you?"
"I actually live in the middle of nowhere right now. I'm far from women," Fatih said sincerely. "What about you? Why did your mother drag you here?"
Although she'd introduced herself as Derya, Deniz wanted to tell him about her real life. "Did they tell you about my profession?"
"No. My mother just said you were very pure, very modest, ladylike, and from a good family. What do you do, miss?"
Deniz tilted her head slightly, a sweet shyness sparkling in her eyes.
"I'm a mechanical engineer… Actually, I did a double major, also in civil engineering. I completed my PhD abroad. For some time now, I've been working on various international projects."
Fatih's attention sharpened, his gaze lingering on her eyes.
"I focus on sustainable technologies—renewable energy systems, infrastructure efficiency… My last project was in Germany. We worked on a system to improve wind turbine performance. It was intense, but a great period."
Fatih was genuinely surprised. Trying not to reveal he was the kind who fell for intelligence, he said, "I can't believe it—you're amazing. So why are you still single?"
Deniz took a sip of her coffee. "For the same reason you are. Japan, Iraq, Tunisia, and countless other places… What man would want to carry his home on his back? Or settle for video calls while his girlfriend is far away?"
Fatih nodded. "We're actually the same. I think I understand you very well."
In that moment, even though they were both very drawn to each other, they realized it. Neither of them had space for a relationship in their lives. But fate didn't think the same way…
Fate sometimes hides in a coffee cup. Sometimes it clings to the edge of a smile and stays there. That evening, that's exactly what happened. Every moment they met each other's eyes, every silent second they tried to understand one another, time seemed to vanish. But the clock ticked on mercilessly.
Deniz quietly gathered her bag and straightened her clothes. Then, in her soft, high-pitched voice, with a hint of reluctance, she said, "As hard as it is… I really should go now. It's gotten quite late."
Fatih glanced at the time, startled. Even he couldn't believe how quickly it had passed. "You're right… it's really late. Let me drive you in my car…" His voice came out a little too eager.
But Deniz shook her head with that graceful smile. "No need. I'm just a street away. Thank you," she said. Then she reached out slightly, her long slender fingers waiting for a handshake.
Fatih felt this simple farewell like an ending. He extended his hand, but couldn't do it without averting his eyes. Part of him was shouting, 'Stop her! Stay a little longer!' but the other part—the soldier—feared dragging this woman into chaos.
"I'd ask for your number, but…" he began, his voice low.
Deniz narrowed her eyes slightly, tilting her head as she finished his sentence:
"…since we won't be seeing each other, it would be pointless, right?"
That sentence landed in Fatih's heart like a heavy stone. Inside, he was begging her to say, "Here, take it." He was searching for a reason, a sign, a small hope… But all he could manage to say was:
"Yes… you're right."
As Deniz walked toward the door with her determined steps, the man she left behind was already fighting a whole new battle inside. He hoped she would turn back just once, but she only offered a final thank-you:
"It was lovely meeting you, Fatih. Thank you for the coffee."
Fatih swallowed the dozens of words forming on his tongue. A lump stuck in his throat, and the soldier inside him was already throwing punches in the air. What he wanted to do was simple—stop her, hold her hand, not let her leave. But he did none of it.
As Deniz stepped out the door, he just stared after her. She was leaving—unknowingly leaving behind an enormous emptiness inside him…
Fatih closed his eyes for a moment. He raised his hands and silently punched the air. Then he swallowed, parted his lips, but still no sound came out. He could only whisper in his mind:
"Goodbye, Red… Don't let anyone else look at you, okay? Wait for me, just a little…"
In that moment, there was no mission, no rank, no discipline in his mind. Only the sound of that girl's footsteps remained in his ears. Perhaps for the first time, he had wanted to hand over the controls of his heart to someone. But it wasn't the right time… or the right place.
Yet hope… hope always remained. Maybe one day, after this mission… he would use his mother as a messenger again. Maybe they would meet again, and this time, instead of saying "it would be pointless since we won't see each other," they could say, "let's finish the story we left unfinished."
Who knows… maybe a woman with red hair flowing in the wind really would wait for him.