What have Can and Sanem experienced in the year that their hearts have been apart? And now that fate has allowed their eyes to meet again and their souls to feel the strength of that unconditional love once more, how will they ever forgive each othe...
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Nothing....
A year since, in the grip of the deepest despair, I had thrown some clothes into a bag and, as if I had the devil on my heels, I had gone to the port to take off. I was suffocating in Istanbul, the city that had always been associated for me with the word "return" and that ,since I had met her, had also become "home". I felt suffocated, my heart had stopped beating the moment she had refused my hand and had put an end to all my hopes. For the first time in my life I had felt the need and had allowed myself to hope that someone would be there for me, would belong to me as I belonged to her. Never, until then, had I allowed myself the luxury of thinking that this could happen since my mother had abandoned me, taking my brother away with her and preventing me from living him.
Sanem, my light, my everything had allowed me, for the first time, to think of being complete, of not having that lack, of not feeling that feeling of being incomplete but finally part of a family. The Aydins were the joy, the warmth, the maternal affection, the welcome, the embrace that I had longed for all my life without knowing it.
Sanem had made me feel loved for what I was, accepted not for my strength or charisma, but for the weakness of my feelings for her, feelings that I had never before allowed myself to feel and that, for the first time, had made me believe that there was a place for me, just for me, in this wonderful world that I had crossed far and wide but that I had never felt as mine as here in Istanbul, with Sanem in my arms.
Then everything had fallen apart: misunderstandings, jealousies, insecurities, stubbornness and the inability to keep the conditioning of the outside world out of our relationship. The mothers who hindered our marriage, Yigit who tried to manipulate my Sanem who was unable to see ulterior motives in the actions of others, my inability to manage my emotions to the point of making her believe that I didn't trust her when it was the world around us that I didn't trust. And then... speaking of trust... as I left Istanbul that fateful night a year ago, all I could think about was how could Sanem have thought that I could destroy something so dear to her? How could she have believed that I wanted nothing but the best for her, because she had let go of my hand?
In this year of nothingness, during which I had met no one and seen nothing but the sea and distant horizons towards which I was heading to escape from her, I had done nothing but think. How could Sanem have let go of my hand?
But what about me? What had I done? How many times had Sanem stood there, adamantly searching for my hand while I had turned my back on her?
When, after finding out about her role in the company with Emre, I had pushed her away, she had stood there, waiting patiently for a sign from me.
While Polen was strutting around the agency and around me, she was there, I'm sure, dying of jealousy but still believing in our love.
As Ceyda ostentatiously offered herself to me she was there waiting for me with her hopeful and welcoming eyes.
While I was telling her that she was like the others, not once but twice, she was still there, loving me with every look, every word, every glass of tea she put on my desk waiting for me to decide to take her hand again.
It had taken me months of nothingness to come to understand my mistakes, to understand that it was I, once again, who had let go of her hand, who had turned my back on her without fighting for us as she had consistently done since the beginning of our story.
Now my heart every day incessantly repeated a poem that we had read and loved together:
I haven't stopped thinking about you, I would like to tell you so much. I'd like to write you that I'd like to come back, that I miss you and think of you. But I don't look for you. I don't even write hello. I don't know how you are. And I miss knowing. Do you have plans? Did you smile today? What did you dream about? Are you going out? Where are you going? Do you have dreams? Have you eaten? I wish I could look for you. But I don't have the strength. And neither do you. So let's wait in vain. And think about it. And remember me. And remember that I think of you, that you don't know it but I live you every day, that I write about you. And remember that looking and thinking are two different things. And I think about you but I don't look for you.
