Do you hear the footsteps passing over my heart? Or are you, with your usual indifference, trying to bury me alive again? You know, I emerged from the swamp, and in the middle of the mire, I bloomed like a lily; yet, with my steps, I could never catch up to you.
What do they always expect from us? A little happiness to give them, or to create it? Or perhaps to carry a living being in my womb? Haven't they always waited? Yes, they always waited, expecting what would never be; even what existed, they did not want. I offered a glass of water, and they asked me to give them the sea. I offered a cigarette, and they demanded fire. They wanted it, they demanded it. And so, where did it all end? Rotting beneath the ground, or disappearing in the untouched corners of my mind?
We are women, we are creators, we are life-givers, we are nurturers, we are makers. Perhaps that's why they fear us; perhaps that's why they try to destroy us.
But one day, a woman grew angry, one day, she made a decision: she would curse those who hurt her. For if she didn't, her anger would not subside, and she herself would vanish, would cease to exist.
Perhaps that is why the footsteps over our hearts never cease, I don't know.
Do you know, there is a king? They say he ruled over everything. But one day, he perished because of his love for a woman whose name was never spoken.
Because a woman, just as she gives life, can also take it; just as she sustains, she can also destroy. She took the king's strings into her hands and drove the knife into his carotid without hesitation.
They demanded everything from a woman: to be everything, to give everything, to do everything. But most of all, they feared what she could accomplish. For if a woman acted, they knew their end would come. So they feared, they tried to kill; but they were unaware of a woman's wrath.
Ask me for a body, and I will produce one; nurture it, sustain it. Or ask me to end your eternity. But never again leave your heart.
From my womb, I brought forth a void; there, I nurtured it, I sustained it. Some days I loved the void, some days I caressed it, some days I touched its heart, I cried with it. But then I desired only the void, nothing else. I did not desire you. For I realized I had grown accustomed to existing with your absence, accustomed to living alone in the middle of the swamp, to your footsteps passing over my heart.
And once again, you demanded everything from a woman, and then you left. Yet in the end, all you were left with was the anger you had left behind; now, like a woman whose fire has died out, you remained alone. Perhaps you deserved it.
---
The clock had ended the pitch-black night and allowed the peaceful morning light to seep through the windows of my four-cornered room. This time, I was aware of where I was. Yesterday, after leaving Isa, I had come here with them. Because I needed to prepare; there was a new job, and perhaps this job could be my path to salvation. According to Isa, the family was very wealthy, among the richest in Turkey. I had no idea how I would swindle a family so rich and surrounded by bodyguards. I guessed Isa had lost his mind. As long as we didn't end up in a pit of mess, everything was fine for me. Not for Isa; I would do it for "him," but I couldn't foresee a good ending for this job.
I reached for the curtain to block the sunlight that struck my eyes and felt a little more comfortable. I was in my usual room; a small bed, a wardrobe, and a dressing table. This place made me feel strangely alien, even though I had been here since childhood. Perhaps I was meant to feel this way, for I had never truly belonged here. So where was the "home" I called a place? Isa's place, Söğütlü…
I first came here as a child, after escaping that filthy swamp. But this house, called a home by some, had never felt like one to me. I could not belong, I would never belong.
A knock at the door made me straighten up, and Semra Abla entered. Semra Abla was Isa's sister and handled most of the affairs here. When I first came here as a little girl, she had greeted me warmly; she was kind-hearted and helpful, yet she had a flaw: she was too naive to recognize her brother's true nature, or simply chose not to. I had never understood her.
She approached and sat on the edge of my bed, saying thoughtfully, "Liya, the previous job just ended, and now you have to start this one immediately. It stresses me out. I hope everything goes well."
Was she serious? Could she really say that to me?
Annoyed and resentful, I stirred in my bed. "Semra Abla, I don't know if you realize, but this only happens because your brother wants it. If you're unaware, fine. I've grown tired of always seeing him as innocent and protecting him."
She was furious, I could tell. Her eyes twitched with anger because her brother was so important to her. She snapped at me, "Without Isa, you would be nothing right now. You come and still speak against him. Girl, you're ungrateful, someone who turns away from the hand that feeds you. I can't understand why you act this way, but don't do it; you're just complicating our work."
I had to be serious; this foolish woman understood nothing.
"Do you realize that you're eating the bread brought into your house only because of me? Without me, your affairs would fall apart, your wealth would be ruined. And yet you call me 'ungrateful'? Whose worth should I value? Tell me: your brother, who has brought me nothing but trouble for forty years? Or you, who patches him up? Or myself, who stands firm? Whose value should I recognize? If you have a better idea, speak up; I am open to criticism," I said.
A lie — I was not open to criticism. No one could critique me.
Unable to continue, she left my room. Let her leave! These idiots served no purpose other than to test my patience.
Now, I had to prepare for the job, but before that, I needed to discuss details with Isa. I had to learn the points about the family I would be swindling. Though I did not feel like talking to him, it had to be done. I got up and put on my cardigan from the hanger, ready to go speak with Isa.
This is how the work began: Isa would locate the client, then try to convince me. With his leverage over my poverty, he would succeed, and I would move on to learning the details of the job.
He would first explain the family in detail: every member, even their national ID numbers. Then he would introduce the real target: the one I had to ensnare, the hawk I had to trap. I had to listen carefully; missing even a single point could ruin everything.
After that, I would meet the family. For nine days, I would infiltrate them, absorb their habits, memorize their secrets. On the ninth day, the wedding day, everything would begin.
During those nine days, I had to learn the family's dirty secrets. Sometimes it was difficult, but I had never failed. Then we would collect our payment and leave. That was the process.
I had to be extremely cautious; I was on edge every moment. And I had to change my personality with every new family. It was not hard for me — acting was easy. Since childhood, I had been used to pretending: happy when miserable, indifferent when my heart bled. So it wasn't difficult. What troubled me was lying to Nazlı. Her ignorance of my job pained me, but I could not stay idle. To live, I had to move.
A girl born of lies had become the very embodiment of deception, directing the venom of the snakes lurking in her mind at her enemies.
As I stepped into the corridor and saw Isa, I hesitated. Was he waiting for me? Seeing him first thing in the morning, after yesterday, did not please me. I wanted to speak and leave immediately. As I approached, he scratched his head and said, "Oh, Liya Hanım, awake already?" in an irritating tone. I shot back, "Don't use those words, they disgust me."
He seemed to take pleasure in my disgust, relaxed as if nothing mattered. There was another masquerade at play, another deception, yet he was at ease — strange…
"Anyway, shall we begin? I don't want to breathe the same air as you any longer, if you notice," I said.
And he had. Without delay, he started explaining. I had to listen carefully.
"The Parskan family, famous in maritime trade. They have companies everywhere in the country; they are omnipresent. They are so wealthy that they forget underwear and buy ships instead. Psychopaths.
Mehmet Ali Parskan, originally from Rize but born and raised in Russia, 60 years old. Founder and leader of Parskan company, one of Turkey's elite. They run the underworld from above.
His wife, Züleyha Parskan, married five years ago. The crucial part: his son, your target, the hawk you must ensnare: Taylan Sarp Parskan.
A rogue, the leading brat, arrogant and ruthless. Works with his father; future leader of the company. Returned from the army three weeks ago; his stepmother wants him married. A complete jerk, refuses all women presented to him. Lives for his own pleasure, but his father insists: marry if you want to lead the company."
These rich brats — incapable of anything without a woman. Most men are like this, I thought.
He continued, "Züleyha wants the bride she chooses because she fears a rival. Classic female power struggles. That's your problem to handle."
Curious, I interrupted, "What about his real mother? Is she dead?"
"That's where it gets interesting. Records show she died, but a recent murder case revealed an empty grave. Nobody knows this, we found out from the police. Now, it's your task: infiltrate them for nine days, learn their souls, understand their motives, and if there's leverage, use it on the ninth day. Got it?"
Yes, I got it. I was smart; I understood.
I would gain his trust, learn everything, and collect the money. These people were millions richer than previous families we had swindled — true rulers. Everyone must have heard the Parskan name. I reflected as Isa touched my hair, "You need to pay more attention to your appearance. Don't cut your hair."
Surprised, I asked, "What about my hair?"
He pulled his hand back, exhausted, "It's unhealthy. You can't enter every family with the same hair. It won't do."
He was right. But I was annoyed. My hair was unhealthy, and if it grew longer, wedding photographers would wonder how many times I had married. Of course, joking.
After leaving the room, I walked the cold corridor, thoughts consuming me. I had to rest before evening, as we had arrived late from the warehouse and couldn't sleep properly thanks to the brainless ones. Time to enjoy rest — I loved sleeping.
---
The Ninth Day: Özkan Family (previous family)
In the deep black of night, the golden lights of the wedding hall danced, everyone enchanted by love and happiness. But Liya's eyes saw something else: the truths, secrets, and traps behind the scene… The web she had woven over nine days was now tightly pulled. She gathered her wedding dress and stood.
Every step, every word, part of a strategy. In a moment, only a few minutes long, the balance of power after nine days would shift.
Liya elegantly approached Doğukan in the crowd, guiding him to a secluded balcony.
"Nine days…" Liya whispered, cold and sharp. "For nine days, I hid that I was smarter than you. Every lie, every secret, every fear… I hold them in my hands."
Doğukan's face paled. "You know what I've hidden, don't you?" Liya continued. "Every smile you gave, every breath you took, your weak points."
She pulled a small black USB from her pocket. She wanted to end this quickly because Doğukan was foolish; anything she did would affect him. "Once you see this, you'll understand it's the turning point of your life."
The USB contained not only financial records, but also confidential documents, phone records, and shocking personal images capable of ruining Doğukan's family.
Horrified, Doğukan asked, "What do you want?" in a trembling voice.
Liya smiled faintly. "Just one thing: transfer the money… immediately, to the accounts I control. No trace. Or… you'll remember this night as a curse."
Doğukan's fear pleased Liya; she had anticipated his moves. She had even sent a copy of the USB to her enemies, ensuring Doğukan remained controlled.
"Remember," Liya said, "in this game, I win. And you, forever, remain in my shadow."
As she left the balcony, amidst the wedding cheer, a cold fire burned within Liya. After nine days, the world was at her fingertips.
---
The present day;
I had awakened, finally forced from the sweet embrace of sleep. I didn't like it, but I had no choice. We were to meet the family at 9 PM, and I had lessons to handle before then. So I headed to my home.
First, I dressed and applied makeup using both my bag and the room's supplies. Earth tones… it looked good. I loved feeling beautiful; I had been obsessed with beauty for years. I put on a black mini skirt, black lace stockings, and my white cardigan, ready to leave Söğütlü.
I played Kamuran Akkor songs through my earphones. Nazlı would often say my music taste didn't match my appearance… Yes, I was an arabesque girl.
After saying "goodbye" to Semra Abla and Serhat, I left. Today, I would walk home. Not far, and I needed to study. Lost in the music, I escaped reality once again. A daydreamer, always.
The weather was fine — clear. Not ideal for me; I preferred cloudy skies.
Suddenly…
A car horn blared behind me. I had to stop. Damn! I had crossed while the light was red for pedestrians. I muttered, "Idiot, almost dead."
The car door opened. A tall, dark, bearded man stepped out. Damn… he was handsome. Why never at ordinary times? I thought. He approached me.
"Hey, are you crazy? Almost hit you. Then I'd be guilty because of you."
Right, it was my fault. I stepped forward calmly. "Okay, you overreacted. You didn't hit me."
He seemed calm. "Anyway, I'm trying to make sure people like you don't get hurt. Otherwise, I'd be guilty."
The man had literally told me to die. Handsome, yet stupid. I glared, "Brainless! Drive carefully, don't hit anyone, stop bothering me."
He laughed and stepped closer. "Brainless? Your tongue is as beautiful as your looks."
Did he just call me "beautiful"? I was tired of men. I turned to leave, "Okay, I'm going. Goodbye. Drive safely."
He blocked me, in that teasing tone, "Wait, beauty… don't run without saying your name. You never cross my path."
"If I tell you my name, will you leave me alone?" I asked wearily.
"Yes, absolutely. Say it and escape."
"Liya."
"Liya?"
"Liya Tunç."
With a smirk, he said, "Nice to meet you, Liya. I guessed your name would be as beautiful as you."
I did not show any desire for his name. I freed myself and walked away. He shouted after me, "You might wonder later who this handsome man was! My name is Taylan! Taylan Sarp Parskan!"
Damn. Parskan? Damn, damn, damn.
The name stabbed my mind like a sharp knife. It was as if even the dark clouds in the sky had grown heavier at that moment, and the wind had blown for miles just to carry this name. My eyes locked onto the stranger's gaze by the roadside.
And then I realized: the strings of fate were no longer in my hands… but someone had already begun pulling them.
---