Unscripted love

47. In The Breach

Can

September 2019...

This late summer, the shores of the Mediterranean aligned with my professional obligations. Accompanied by my father, my agents and a few others devoted to my cause, I immersed myself in this climb of recognition outside the borders of my own country. Drowned in the crowd of women snatching a smile, a photo, a stolen kiss, my body obeys the constraints, the tight schedule of my professional calendar but my soul is elsewhere, lost in a maze of impossible choices, of struggles that seem lost in advance.

For days I have been struggling with the phone to try to hear the sound of her voice but she refuses to speak to me. I hear from her mother, almost daily, insisting that she needs time, that she will heal her pain, but I reject this idea completely. I'm not a patient person. I've always needed reassurance, to feel confident in my relationships with others. Maybe in the end that's the only thing my parents didn't achieve...the lack of a unitary home always made me fear losing what little I had. If I could have my father, I couldn't be with my mother at the same time. I feel like that's happening again with Demet. My career is taking off, thanks to the chemistry we had on Erkenci Kus, and I feel that indirectly if it works professionally it doesn't work elsewhere...

She forced me to go to Naples. She didn't want me to postpone or cancel my obligations, she wanted our lives to go on so much...

Yes, but when I came back to Istanbul, a few days later, I wanted to join her. Even though I knew we wouldn't be able to spend much time together, I was ready to give up plans, as long as it would allow me to reassure her, to be with her to put the words down. But once again I came up against a wall.

In Naples, in between bathing in the crowd, I bought tons of gifts for her. From the most insignificant little tourist souvenir to the luxury Italian bag...not to mention the presents that the fans had entrusted to me for her...

I didn't even have time to give her anything because our interview was so short.

I knew from her mother that she had to leave Izmir for a few days for a health check. She agreed to see me and we met out of sight in a small restaurant room. I would have liked something more intimate, I would have liked to take her in my arms and not let her go but she wanted a public place. It was strange. The distance she put between us, her shifty look. When I kissed her she barely returned my kiss and when I followed up on what the doctor had told her she reassured me while remaining very evasive, detached. I took her hand and squeezed it tightly on this table that put too much distance between us.

She pulled it away and cried for a few seconds before she pulled herself together.

The words that followed trampled my heart.

I felt as if she had been practising for days to recite to me the decision she had made, that even with the best will in the world I would never be able to change her mind. This feeling of helplessness in the face of her words, my anger, my despair, her sadness, I don't know which was worse...

"It's too painful what we went through Can. I can't wake up every morning and share my life with you when I look into your eyes and see my own pain. I m so sorry it has come to this. Maybe it's proof that we're not strong enough for a future together. Maybe it's too early for me or too late for both of us...we can't imprison ourselves Can, that's not us...I don't want to draw a line under you but I need time and distance to think clearly. Together we will lock ourselves in sadness, thinking of what we have lost, what we can never replace. Your career is exploding and mine needs to run its course. I know you're going to resent me, I know you're going to hate me and I hate myself for feeling so weak, for not being able to fight but I am, I'm not strong enough for this.