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Ayla might’ve been born to a lion and a siren. She might come floating with me in the ocean and spend most of her days playing in her paddling pool or blowing bubbles in her bath, but she wasn’t a creature of the sea like me.
She wasn’t gifted her soulmate by the waves.
She wasn’t afraid of what could be taken away.
She didn’t have anything to run away from, so until she was an adult in her own right, I wouldn’t be running anywhere.
But the day she no longer needed me...I was slipping beneath the surface and never coming up again.
*
Two years...
*
I called him at two in the morning.
The same time he’d shot Aslan two years ago.
I stood on the starlit beach, gripping the shell Aslan had lost the night everything went so dreadfully wrong. The night of my birthday. A night that’d become horribly entwined with my life getting older and Aslan’s coming to an end.
I listened to the waves hissing on the shore.
I waited...
“Tekrar merhaba, kizim.” (Hello again, daughter).
A ripple of pure hatred shot down my spine as Cem’s voice filled my ear. His voice sounded so similar to Aslan’s. His deep rich tone echoed in my mind even now. My husband’s face forever tainted because it was the mirror image of his murderer.
“Bana hayatta oldugunu söyle,” I hissed. (Tell me he’s alive).
“You speak Turkish now?”
“I’ve been dedicating myself to becoming fluent.”
“Etkilendim.” (I’m impressed).
“Tell me. Tell me you lied.”
He chuckled. “Another year and you’re still in denial. I don’t think this blind faith in his existence is healthy, kizim.”
“Stop calling me that.”
“Stop calling me on the anniversary of your loss.”
“Give me back what you stole, and I won’t have to call again.”
He laughed out loud. “I see why my son fell in love with you. You have claws. I like it.”
Tears rolled down my cheeks despite the loathing searing in my blood. Sorrow tangled with my hate, and I slipped just enough to beg, “Lütfen. Lütfen bana gerçegi söyle.” (Please. Please, tell me the truth).
“The truth is he died two years ago.” A rustling sounded as his voice darkened. “I watch you, Nerida. I watch you raising my granddaughter. I watch you playing with dreams and wishes. I suggest you stop. I suggest you accept that he is gone. I would hate for Ayla to lose her mother as well as her father.”
My chest fissured. “W-What do you mean by that?”
“I mean, you’re killing yourself, canim.”
My knees gave out, dropping me to the sand.
That word.
That single word that Aslan had whispered to me a thousand times.
A word that meant everything yet somehow nothing.
A word that took my breath away.
The crescent moon watched over me sadly as tears poured silently down my cheeks. “I know he’s alive.”
“You are mistaken.”
“I know he’s still here because we share the same heart. That heart is still beating, even if it’s broken. I would feel it if he was gone. I know I would.”
“You need to stop this nonsense. Aslan Avci is dead. It’s time you accepted that.”
He hung up.
I bowed in the sand.
And I cried.
Chapter Thirty-Six
*
Nerida
AGE: 23 YRS OLD
*
(Love in Maori: Aroha)
*
Three years...
I STOOD ON THE DECK OF THE FLUKE, staring at the mid-afternoon sun. The weather was hot, bright, blue, and beautiful, yet today, the sublime perfection of the ocean didn’t affect me.
The glittering sunlight couldn’t pierce my lonely heart.
The swooping seagulls couldn’t turn my sorrow into a smile.
Three years.
My constant headache pounded, my ceaseless guilt suffocated, refusing to believe it.
Three years...
Nine days ago, I’d turned another year older.
And today was the anniversary of Aslan’s death.
Despite my heavy cloak of misery, the year had passed quickly. Teddy and Eddie had enlisted the help of a local builder to construct the plans they’d drawn. I continued fundraising and even managed to get a few newspapers to take notice of us. We also received a moderately sized donation from the Sydney Aquarium to fund our progress, with the proviso that the day we created a liveable environment, they would have access to the first sphere for their own uses.
Their request had given me the idea to sell future leases. For a few thousand dollars, those who could afford it could rent a biosphere and have their names noted on the founding investors, all while Lunamare was nothing more than an impossible dream.
Unfortunately, testing on the strange-looking decagon had not gone well. After months of tweaking, welding, and amending, the structure never remained watertight in our pool for long.
Eddie was the more rational minded out of me and Teddy, and he grounded us with reminders that we were trying to do something no one else had ever done before. Sure, there were pods around the world that marine biologists, engineers, and saturation divers lived in while doing infrastructure work and deep-sea welding. Sure, there were rigs and outposts with moon pools and submarines, all built to withstand the immense weight of the ocean.
