I left before morning came, and it was urgent.
Sometimes, when I close my eyes after a long day, I let myself dream.
It's a world where everything finally falls into place, where I am not Richard the operative, not the man bound by orders and silence, but just… me.
In that dream, I wake up to the scent of freshly brewed coffee, the sound of laughter echoing from the kitchen. My mother's there, humming an old tune as she arranges breakfast, my father's reading the newspaper, pride written in the soft lines of his face. My siblings are teasing each other, carefree and loud, and for once, no one's worrying about the next bill or the next day.
In that same dream, Ahce walks in, wearing one of my old shirts, her hair messy, her eyes sleepy. She smiles at me, the kind of smile that makes the whole room brighter, warmer. I can almost feel her touch on my cheek, soft and grounding, the kind of love that asks for nothing but presence.
