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For a moment, I can’t speak. I can’t even think. This moment can’t be real. It must be some kind of cruel joke my mind is playing on me. But then a hand is on my shoulder, and I feel the warm of his touch spread through me.
I turn around slowly, cautiously, unwilling to believe that it might really be him.
Kaan.
My eyes scan his features, trying to capture every detail. His bronze eyes, once so bright and full of life, are holding a weight that wasn’t there before. He smiles, that familiar dimple appearing on his cheeks, but it seems more subdued, more hesitant as though his pain has settled on his shoulders, leaving its mark.
My hands tremble as I reach up to touch his face, to make sure that he’s really here. I run my fingers along his stubbled skin, warm and soft under my fingertips, and I can’t help but let out a small gasp. He’s real. He’s really here.
Suddenly, a million thoughts rush through my mid. What should I say? What should I do? Should I embrace him, or push him away? But before I can even decide, he speaks and I’m lost in the sound of his voice.
“Hi.”
“Hi.”
And as I stand there, gazing up at him, a smile tugs at the corners of my lips.
Did I subconsciously choose to be here, at sunset, in the hope of seeing him again?
I already know the answer.
I totally did.
“There's a lot I need to say.” He gazes at me with soft eyes. “If you'll let me.”
Excitement bubbles within me, desperate to burst forth in a victorious scream of ‘YES’, but I know I have to play it cool. This is the man that broke me.
So, with a nonchalant shrug I casually reply, “I guess.”
My heart might be doing a victory dance but I maintain an air of effortless composure.
Mission accomplished.
Now, let the cool façade continue as the inner celebration roars on.
Kaan nods, relief washing over his face. “I messed up. Big time. And I know that there’s nothing I can say to excuse it. But I just want you to know that I’m sorry. I know you must hate me.”
“I don't hate you.”
“You should.” His eyebrows shoot up in disbelief. “I hate myself for how I treated you.”
The pain he inflicted on me resurfaces, raw and vivid. “I don’t hate you but you hurt me, Kaan. You broke my heart into a million pieces, and then to add salt to my wounds you releasedoursong. Do you know what it’s like to hear you sing those words you wrote about me, about us, everywhere I go?”
As I let my words hang in the air, a heavy silence descends between us. It’s true, every note of that song tells our story, and it became a painful reminder of the hurt I endured.
“Every time I hear that song, it’s like reopening a wound. It reminds me of the pain you caused, and how it changed everything between us.”
“I know.” His voice is low, full of remorse. “And I’m not asking you to forgive me, not yet. I just want you to know that I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make things right between us."
I look away, trying to keep my emotions in check. It’s not easy when the person you love is standing in front of you, asking for forgiveness.
“I’m an alcoholic.”
Hearing Kaan say the words hit me like a punch to the gut and I grab hold of the rail for support. “Yes.”
“I didn’t realise the control alcohol had over me until Blair’s death.” His words pour out with a sense of urgency, and I can see the weight of those words etched on his face. “Drinking was just a part of the lifestyle, a way to fuel my creativity and escape reality. I didn’t grasp that it had taken over every aspect of my existence. I didn’t care about the band, my family, anything. When the guys kicked me out of the band it was a relief because no one was there to tell me to stop anymore. And Blair…”
Kaan leans back against the smooth texture of the tower wall and I see the subtle relaxation that spreads across his features. His tower, his refuge, gives him respite from the weight of his burden. “Blair brought out the worst in me.”
