Chapter One
Baran
Baran’s heart pounded withanticipation as he stepped out into the bustling New York City airport. The stress of over eleven grueling hours of flight from Istanbul to America dissipated as the image of his father’s warm embrace flashed through his mind. He’d pictured the familiar smile, the powerful hands, and the comforting scent of his baba. But as minutes turned into a quarter of an hour, and then half an hour, an icy dread seeped into his excitement. Where was his father?
Where was his father? Had something happened? Disappointment suddenly gnawed at him and confusion and hurt replaced the fear as he realized his father wasn’t coming to greet him as promised. A sense of abandonment and the bitter taste of loneliness replaced the joy he’d felt on landing.
He pulled out his phone and sent a message to his father.
Baran:Hey, Baba, I’m here at the airport. Where are you?
Marat Aslan:Take a taxi to my office.
Baran:Yes, Baba. I can’t wait to see you.
Baran stepped out of the taxi, the biting New York December air stinging his face. A thrill traveled through him. He was here. New York City. But more importantly, he was here to spend Christmas with his father.
Baran stood in the imposing skyscraper housing his father’s empire. As the elevator ascended, he felt a sense of pride. His father was a titan of industry, a man whose name commanded respect. He was eager to bask in the reflected glory.
The office was a world of polished marble and glass, a stark contrast to the warmth Baran had expected. The pretty blond woman behind the desk directed him to his father’s office. With his suitcase in tow, he opened the door and took a step inside.
His father sat behind a colossal desk, his face etched with lines of authority and weariness. Yet, when their eyes met, there was a flicker of something else, a darkness Baran couldn’t quite decipher.
His father, a man of steely resolve and imposing stature, rose from behind his desk, his face a now mask of cold indifference. The warmth Baran had expected to find in those familiar eyes was absent, replaced by an indifference.
His father’s voice, low and dangerous, cut through the stillness. “You came here to parade your shame in front of me?”
Baran didn’t understand. “What are you talking about?”
“Don’t play innocent, Baran,” his father spat. “I know everything. About you. About your…lifestyle. Did you think you could hide you’re gay from me because you live in Istanbul, and I live in New York?” his father shouted venomously. He moved toward Baran.
The words hung heavy in the air, each syllable a crushing blow. Baran’s heart pounded in his ears. This was not the conversation he’d rehearsed in his mind. The hug he had longed for evaporated into thin air.
A deafening silence followed as his father stood glaring at him face-to-face. Baran’s throat felt tight, his mind racing. He had intended to hide this part of himself, but he hadn’t expected such a violent reaction if and when his father found out.Who told him?He had no answer to his father’s question. Frozen to the tile floor, he watched as his suitcase slipped from his hand and thudded onto the ground.
His father’s face contorted into a mask of rage. The sound of his large hand contacting Baran’s cheek echoed through the room. The world tilted for a moment as pain exploded across Baran’s face.
“You are a disgrace to this family,” his father roared, his voice echoing in the sterile office. “You will never darken my doorstep again. And mark my words, boy, there’s a price on your head in Turkey. You’re on your own.”
The words were like ice water, seeping into Baran’s soul. Fear, shock, and disbelief warred within him. He was alone, exposed, and utterly terrified.
“But, Baba, I live in Istanbul and go to school there,” Baran pleaded.
“You’re a walking dead man in Turkey. That is, if you can call yourself a man with your disgusting lifestyle.”
His father’s hand connected with his other cheek, sending another jolt of pain through him. The world spun again. Hefelt a hot, stinging sensation on his lip. Blood. More blows rained down, a brutal, unforgiving assault. Baran tried to defend himself, but it was futile against his father’s strength. When it was over, he lay crumpled on the floor, his body aching, his spirit shattered.
“Get out,” his father growled, his voice thick with contempt.
Baran crawled to his feet, his vision blurred. He picked up his suitcase and fled the office, the heavy door slamming shut behind him. As he made his way down the corridor, the power of his father’s words settled over him like a suffocating blanket.
He reached for his phone, his fingers trembling. He needed to call someone, anyone. But as he unlocked it, an icy dread washed over him. He rushed to check the availability of his funds on his phone. With a sinking feeling, he realized his attempts to access his bank accounts were futile as each card was met with the dreaded with zero balance. Panic set in. He was alone, penniless, and a marked man. The warm welcome he had expected was replaced by a cold dread. The city that had promised endless possibilities now felt like a hostile jungle.
Baran stood on the sidewalk, the cold seeping into his bones. He was lost in his own life. He had arrived in New York as a man full of hope and excitement, only to be replaced by one haunted by fear and rejection.
As the reality of his situation settled in, Baran’s mind raced. He had nothing but the cash in his pocket and the clothes in his suitcase. His father’s disapproval bore down on him, leaving him feeling like an abandoned child.
With nowhere to go and no one to turn to, Baran’s feet carried him to the nearest subway station. The platform was crowded, the air thick with the mingled scents of the city. He boarded the train, finding an empty seat in a corner. Therhythmic clatter of the wheels against the tracks became a constant backdrop to his swirling thoughts.
