Yeni Safak

Nadia was walking through a misty, wooded trail, the light filtering through branches overhead, casting shadows across the narrow path. The quiet rustle of leaves underfoot seemed to mirror the rhythm of her heart, calm and certain, as she walked hand-in-hand with someone. A figure she thought she recognized.

She smiled, glancing at the strong, familiar hand wrapped around hers, feeling the quiet assurance in the way he held her. “Muhammad,” she murmured, a soft smile on her lips as she looked up.

But as she lifted her gaze, her heart skipped a beat—those weren’t Muhammad’s dark, steady eyes gazing back at her. They were green, mischievous, filled with warmth and laughter. Nadia’s pulse quickened in horror as she recognized the face, the very one she’d spent days trying to forget.

“Emma…”

The name slipped from her lips, and a wave of confusion and longing crashed over her as Emma’s lips curved into a smile, her fingers entwining more tightly around Nadia’s. A thrill, intense and undeniable, shot through her, filling her with a strange, terrifying desire.

“No… this can’t…” she whispered, pulling away, but Emma’s hand held her fast, her gaze unrelenting, daring.

Nadia’s eyes flew open. She was in her bed, her breaths coming in shallow gasps as she stared at the dim ceiling of her hotel room. Her heart thundered in her chest, her hands clenched in the sheets. It had been a dream—a strange, impossible dream.

The ringing of her phone cut through the heavy silence, making her jump. She took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing pulse as she reached over to pick up the phone. The caller ID read “Muhammad.” She took another steadying breath and answered, her voice careful.

“Assalamu alaikum, Muhammad.”

“Wa alaikum assalam, Nadia,” his familiar voice replied, a comforting warmth filling her heart as she listened to the calm assurance in his tone. “How are you? How’s the trip going?”

“It’s… it’s going well,” she replied, her voice softening as she settled into the comfort of his words, her mind still reeling from the lingering fragments of her dream.

“That’s wonderful to hear,” he said, sounding genuinely pleased. “I was a bit worried; these business trips can be tiring. And… well, Paris can be overwhelming, right?”

“Yes,” she murmured, allowing a faint smile to creep into her voice. “It’s been… overwhelming, but in a good way.”

Muhammad chuckled. “I’m glad to hear that, Nadia. I want you to make the most of it, to enjoy it, too. You deserve a bit of adventure now and then.”

Nadia felt a pang of guilt ripple through her, a sense of shame she couldn’t quite shake. Muhammad’s voice was so sincere, so filled with care and trust. She wanted to tell him everything, to share the weight of her inner conflict, but the words caught in her throat.

“Thank you, Muhammad,” she whispered, her voice thick. “You’ve always been so… supportive.”

“Well,” he replied, his voice tender, “what else am I here for?”

They spoke for a few minutes longer, Nadia carefully steering the conversation toward safer topics. She told him about the meetings, the sights she’d seen, glossing over the last night and her encounters with Emma. As she listened to him describe his own mundane adventures back home, a small laugh escaped her as he shared his failed attempt at cooking.

“I thought I’d surprise you,” he admitted sheepishly. “But I think I nearly burned the whole house down.”

“Cooking isn’t about… burning things, Muhammad,” she teased, a faint smile returning to her lips. “You have to watch the flame, not just… toss things in the pan.”

“I tried, I promise,” he laughed, his voice filled with warmth. “But, I think I’ll stick to ordering food until you’re back.”

She chuckled, feeling the tightness in her chest ease, her mind settling for a moment in the familiarity of their bond. Whatever had happened—whatever she felt—it was momentarily pushed to the side as she talked with Muhammad, grounding herself in the love they’d shared for years.

The hotel restaurant was warm and bright that morning, filled with soft conversation and the clinking of breakfast plates. Nadia wrapped her fingers around her coffee cup, seeking warmth and a sense of normalcy as she picked a seat near the corner, away from the bustling main area. The quiet hum of activity around her provided a comforting background, but her mind was still spinning, her thoughts a tangled mess she couldn’t quite unravel.

She glanced down at her phone, scrolling idly through the news, willing her thoughts away from the images that lingered in her mind—the fragments of her dream, the memory of Emma’s touch. Ya Allah, give me strength, she whispered to herself, clasping her hands around her cup as if to steady her own resolve.

Her heart jolted as she looked up and saw Emma enter the restaurant, her eyes scanning the room. Emma’s gaze landed on Nadia for a fraction of a second, her expression unreadable, before she turned and took a seat at the far end of the restaurant. Nadia felt her chest tighten, a mix of relief and disappointment churning within her as she looked away.

Good, she thought. Distance is best. Yet, even as she turned her gaze back to her plate, she felt Emma’s presence like an undeniable pull, an awareness that made every moment feel stretched and weighted.

A waiter came by, refilling her coffee, and she thanked him, her voice barely above a whisper. She could feel her face warming, a blush creeping into her cheeks as she stole another glance at Emma, who was calmly buttering a croissant, her gaze fixed on the street outside.

Why did it have to be her? Nadia wondered. The question echoed in her mind, filling her with frustration and guilt. She’d come on this trip for work, to be efficient and focused, yet she felt anything but. The memories of that night haunted her, a strange blend of exhilaration and regret. And Emma’s silent presence across the room only added to the intensity of her inner turmoil.

She pushed her chair back, standing quickly as if the very air had become suffocating. Nadia left her half-eaten breakfast behind, hurrying toward the exit without a second glance. The moment she stepped outside the restaurant, she drew a shaky breath, steadying herself against the wall.

The rest of the day was spent in meetings, the hours slipping by as Nadia forced herself to focus on business presentations, project details, and data. She immersed herself in work, each task a lifeline, a way to keep her mind away from the memories and emotions that threatened to surface. By the time evening fell, she returned to her hotel room, exhausted but relieved, grateful for the solitude.

The next morning, she woke early and settled into a cozy chair by the window, losing herself in the familiar comfort of a novel. The words became her sanctuary, each page a respite from her conflicting thoughts. She read through the morning, barely noticing the hours slipping away until her phone buzzed with an incoming call.

It was Muhammad.

A small smile softened her face as she answered. “Assalamu alaikum, Muhammad.”

“Wa alaikum assalam, Nadia! How are you doing? Are you… enjoying Paris?” he asked, his voice warm and genuinely curious.

“Yes,” she replied, hesitating only slightly before continuing. “I spent most of yesterday in meetings, though. I haven’t really explored much.”

“Well, that doesn’t surprise me,” Muhammad teased, his voice filled with a gentle laughter. “But it’s good to hear your voice, Nadia. It feels quiet without you here.”

Nadia laughed, feeling the tension in her shoulders ease. “Oh, come now, you have your business and… your cooking adventures.”

“Speaking of cooking,” he chuckled, “I tried to make rice last night, and… well, let’s just say it didn’t turn out exactly right. I may have burned the bottom of the pot.”

“Oh no!” Nadia couldn’t help but laugh, the image of her husband struggling with a kitchen disaster filling her with a surprising warmth. “Muhammad, cooking rice isn’t difficult. You just have to measure the water correctly and keep an eye on the heat.”

“Easy for you to say,” he replied, sounding playfully exasperated. “You’re the master chef here. I’ll need a proper lesson when you get back.”

“Alright,” Nadia said, her laughter softening into a fond smile. “I’ll give you a lesson, but you’ll have to promise to pay attention this time.”

“Anything for you,” he replied, his voice turning serious, a warmth in his words that made her chest ache. “Really, Nadia, I want you to enjoy this trip. I know you’re always busy, but take a day to yourself. See the city, maybe with that coworker of yours—Emma, right?”

Nadia’s smile froze, her stomach flipping uncomfortably at the mention of Emma’s name. She felt a rush of guilt, the memory of the night at the Eiffel Tower flaring up, her pulse quickening. If he only knew…

“Oh, yes… Emma. She’s… a good colleague,” Nadia replied, her voice carefully controlled, though she felt the guilt weigh heavier on her with each word. She quickly changed the subject, asking Muhammad about his work, listening as he shared a few humorous anecdotes about his recent clients. She laughed along, grateful for the reprieve, even as her mind drifted back to the letter she’d found outside her room earlier that morning—a letter she knew was from Emma.

The next morning, Nadia opened her hotel door and froze as she caught sight of Emma standing in the hallway, as if she’d been waiting there.

“Oh,” Emma said, her gaze softening as she took a step forward, a hesitant smile on her lips. “Nadia, I was hoping to talk…”

Nadia’s face flushed, and she immediately averted her gaze, her heart pounding as she quickly sidestepped Emma. “I… I’m sorry, I need to get to breakfast,” she muttered, her voice strained, barely meeting Emma’s eyes as she brushed past.

“Nadia, please, just a moment—” Emma’s voice followed her, soft and insistent, but Nadia didn’t look back, her footsteps hurried as she made her way to the restaurant. She took a seat near the window, her hands trembling slightly as she poured herself a cup of tea, her mind racing. What was she going to say? Why is she making this so hard?

She was painfully aware of Emma’s presence as she entered the restaurant a few minutes later, her gaze lingering on Nadia before she took a seat at a table on the opposite side of the room. Neither of them looked at each other again, both maintaining a strained silence as they ate in separate corners of the restaurant.

When she returned to her room that afternoon, Nadia’s heart sank as she saw the letter waiting outside her door again. It was a simple envelope, the handwriting on the front delicate, neat. She recognized it instantly—Emma’s handwriting.

She closed her eyes, drawing in a shaky breath as she picked it up, her hands trembling. Inside, the note was brief, the ink scrawled in a warm, elegant script that made her heart twist.

“Nadia, I’m sorry. I never meant to make things difficult. Please, let’s talk.”

Nadia’s chest tightened as she crumpled the letter in her fist, a surge of frustration coursing through her. Why does she insist on bringing it up? she thought bitterly, throwing the letter into the waste bin without a second glance.

The final day of the trip came and went in a flurry of meetings and hurried plans to return home. On the plane back to London, Nadia found herself seated next to Emma, the tension between them thick and stifling. They exchanged polite nods, but neither spoke a word, both keeping their eyes focused straight ahead as the hours ticked by, the silence between them loaded with everything they hadn’t said.

By the time they touched down in London, Nadia felt exhausted, emotionally frayed, her mind tangled in confusion. She knew she couldn’t avoid Emma forever, but for now, she was relieved to be back on familiar ground.

As she stepped into the arrivals hall, a wide smile spread across her face as she saw Muhammad waiting for her, his face lighting up when he caught sight of her. He pulled her into a warm embrace, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.

“Welcome home,” he murmured, his voice filled with warmth.

Nadia leaned into his embrace, feeling a mixture of guilt and relief as she clung to him, hoping to find peace in the comfort of his arms. That night, surrounded by friends and family at a welcome party Muhammad had arranged, she forced herself to laugh and smile, her mind still replaying the events of Paris.

But as she lay beside him in bed, she couldn’t shake the memory of Emma, the kiss, the unresolved feelings that lingered like a shadow over her heart.

The morning sun filtered through the window, casting soft beams across the familiar contours of her bedroom. Nadia opened her eyes, feeling an odd combination of relief and unease. She was back in London, back with Muhammad, surrounded by the routines and comforts of her life. Yet, even here, an invisible shadow lingered, one she couldn’t shake, a memory that clung to her like a haunting melody.

She had spent the night surrounded by family and friends, Muhammad at her side, sharing stories and laughter. The warmth and love in the room had filled her with gratitude, grounding her in the life she and Muhammad had built together. Yet, as she lay beside him now, she couldn’t ignore the way her mind drifted back to Paris, to the tension and uncertainty that seemed to shimmer like a distant mirage, always just beyond her reach.

Muhammad shifted beside her, still asleep, his breathing steady and calm. She studied his face, a familiar comfort in the quiet light of morning. There was so much history in that face, so many memories shared—yet here she was, haunted by something that defied logic, something that made her question the very foundation of who she was.

She rose quietly, careful not to disturb him, and made her way to the kitchen, the lingering aroma of coffee and spices from last night’s celebration filling the air. She poured herself a cup of tea and sipped it slowly, hoping it would clear her mind, calm the disquiet within her. But as the warmth spread through her, her thoughts returned to that night, to the kiss under the Parisian sky, the feeling of Emma’s lips against hers—a forbidden moment that had shaken her to the core.

Her phone buzzed, pulling her from her thoughts, and she glanced down to see a message from Anna. “Coffee at lunch today?” it read, followed by a cheerful coffee cup emoji. Nadia smiled faintly, grateful for the distraction, and quickly replied.

When she arrived at the café later that morning, Anna was already there, waving eagerly from a table near the window. She wore her usual oversized sweater, her hair pulled back into a messy bun, her eyes bright with excitement.

“Nadia!” Anna called as Nadia approached, pulling her into a quick hug. “It feels like you were gone forever. How was Paris?”

Nadia forced a smile, sitting down across from her friend. “It was… intense. Lots of meetings, you know how these trips can be.”

Anna chuckled, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. “Oh, I can imagine. But did you get a chance to see the city? Paris is beautiful this time of year.”

“Yes,” Nadia replied slowly, her mind drifting back to the streets of Paris, to the memory of Emma’s laughter echoing in her ears. She pushed the thought away, focusing on Anna. “I saw a few of the landmarks, the usual sights.”

“Wasn’t Emma on the trip with you?” Anna asked, raising an eyebrow as she sipped her coffee.

Nadia felt a pang of discomfort, her stomach tightening. She forced a casual shrug. “Yes, she was… we worked together on the project. But outside of that, we didn’t spend much time together.”

Anna nodded, seemingly accepting the answer. But Nadia could feel her friend’s curious gaze lingering, as if sensing something unsaid. She quickly changed the subject, asking about Anna’s family, her father’s health, and the latest office gossip. They chatted easily, laughter breaking up the tension Nadia felt coiled within her.

But despite her efforts, her mind kept drifting back, her thoughts like an anchor pulling her to that night in Paris, to the way Emma’s touch had felt against her skin, the warmth that had both frightened and thrilled her. It was a memory she couldn’t ignore, no matter how hard she tried.

“…And of course, that led to the most ridiculous meeting ever,” Anna was saying, laughing as she recounted a story about a new intern. “He actually handed out the wrong report to everyone in the room! I was mortified for him.”

Nadia laughed along, but her gaze drifted across the room, and she froze as she spotted Emma by the counter, waiting for her order. Her heart raced, her breath catching in her throat. Emma hadn’t seen her, but Nadia felt the familiar pull, an undeniable awareness that seemed to cloud the air around her.

“Nadia?” Anna’s voice cut through her thoughts, drawing her back to the present.

“Oh, sorry,” Nadia murmured, quickly looking back at Anna. “I just… thought I saw someone I knew.”

Anna gave her a curious look, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Are you okay? You seem… distracted.”

Nadia forced a smile, shaking her head. “I’m fine, really. Just… adjusting back to normal life after the trip.”

But even as she spoke, she felt her gaze drifting back toward Emma, the memory of that night rising to the surface, the feel of Emma’s lips against hers, a warmth that lingered, whispering possibilities she’d tried so hard to ignore.

That evening, as she sat alone in her study, her mind kept replaying her interactions with Emma, the words unspoken, the tension that had woven itself between them like an invisible thread. She leaned back in her chair, closing her eyes as she tried to sort through the storm of emotions inside her—guilt, confusion, a strange thrill that made her pulse quicken.

What is wrong with me? she thought, pressing her hand to her chest as if to steady her heart. She had everything she needed, a life filled with love, stability, faith. And yet, in one fleeting moment, her world had been turned upside down, her heart drawn toward something she couldn’t explain, a feeling she couldn’t shake.

I have to move on, she told herself firmly. Emma is a colleague, nothing more. Yet, even as she repeated the words, they felt hollow, like an echo that faded into the silence, leaving her with a longing that refused to be dismissed.

Her phone buzzed again, breaking the silence, and she looked down to see another message from Anna, a link to a romantic comedy they’d both wanted to see, followed by a cheerful suggestion: “Movie night soon?”

Nadia smiled faintly, a sense of normalcy grounding her, even if only for a moment. Yes, she thought, maybe a night out will help. But as she typed her reply, her heart was already whispering a different answer, a truth she couldn’t deny.

The next morning, as Nadia prepared to head into the office, she felt a mix of excitement and dread, a feeling that left her unsettled as she walked through the familiar hallways, her gaze unconsciously scanning for Emma. Part of her hoped she wouldn’t see her, that she could keep these memories buried. But a deeper part of her—one she barely dared to acknowledge—longed for even a fleeting glance, a reminder of the connection she couldn’t forget.

As she passed by Emma’s office, she slowed, her pulse quickening as she saw Emma sitting at her desk, her gaze focused on her computer. Emma looked up, catching Nadia’s eye, and for a moment, they simply stared at each other, the air thick with an unspoken understanding. Emma’s gaze softened, a hint of a smile on her lips, and Nadia felt her heart ache with the memory of Paris, the kiss that had changed everything.

But as quickly as the moment began, it ended. Nadia forced herself to look away, to continue down the hall, her heart pounding as she struggled to maintain her composure. She knew she couldn’t keep pretending, couldn’t keep avoiding the feelings that had taken root inside her.

As she settled into her desk, she took a steadying breath, a resolution forming in her mind. I have to confront this, she thought, her fingers clenched around her pen. I can’t keep running forever.