In the Shadow Of Memory

The End: Afterword

The sea breeze was perfect, warm and salty, exactly what Ilsa Kartz—formerly Mia—needed. As she stood on the balcony of her new apartment in Alanya, Turkey, the Mediterranean stretched out before her, glittering in the afternoon sun. Alanya felt like a dream, a far cry from the chaos and danger she'd left behind. Here, she was someone else, free from the past, and for the first time in years, she could actually breathe. 

The beach below was busy with people, but not crowded, the kind of relaxed vibe she loved. The way the waves gently pulled at the shore was hypnotic, and before long, she found herself wandering down toward the water. The cobblestone streets of the old town led her straight to the beach, where the scent of grilled kebabs mixed with the fresh sea air. She loved it here—simple, bright, and full of promise.

And of course, Lucas was here, too. His arrival had been a surprise, catching her off guard when she'd least expected it. One moment, she was lost in the bustle of the local square, and the next, she felt a familiar tap on her shoulder. When she turned around, there he was, standing with that cocky grin she'd missed so much and those curls—those ridiculous curls—she hadn't seen since he'd cut his hair short.

She'd rolled her eyes, playing it cool. "You're late."

"Good to see you too," he had replied, smirking as he pulled her into a tight hug. "Missed me?"

"Hardly," she teased, but they both knew the truth.

Now, a week later, they were settled into life in Alanya. They had an apartment together not far from the beach, helping his aunt Aylin run her small restaurant. His aunt had grown up in Turkey, and her place was like something out of a postcard—small tables with checkered cloths, the smell of freshly baked bread, and the constant chatter of locals. Ilsa found herself fitting into the rhythm of it all surprisingly fast. Even Lucas was helping out, though his method mostly involved teasing Ilsa while she worked. 

One afternoon, after a busy shift, they were cleaning up when Lucas nudged her with his elbow, a mischievous grin on his face. "You know," he said, wiping down a table, "I'm pretty sure the customers come here just to see you."

She looked up from the plates she was stacking, eyebrow raised. "Oh yeah? And why's that?"

He shrugged, leaning casually against the table. "Maybe it's your charming personality."

Ilsa snorted. "Right. Because everyone knows how 'charming' I am after a full day of dealing with you."

Lucas grinned. "Hey, I'm just saying, if it weren't for me, this place would be boring. Admit it."

"Sure, whatever helps you sleep at night, mop-head."

He smirked at the nickname, running a hand through his now long, curly hair. "Don't pretend you don't love the curls."

Ilsa rolled her eyes but couldn't help grinning. "I love them *when* they're not in my face while I'm trying to work."

"Well, too bad," he said, stepping closer and shaking his head, sending a few curls her way. "You're stuck with them now."

She swatted at him playfully. "Keep it up and I'll find a pair of scissors."

Lucas raised his eyebrows. "You wouldn't dare."

"Try me."

Before he could retort, Aunt Aylin poked her head out from the kitchen, eyeing the two of them with amusement. "You two fighting again? You're worse than the old married couples who come here."

Lucas flashed his aunt a cheeky grin. "Just keeping things interesting."

Aylin shook her head, muttering something about "young love" in Turkish before disappearing back inside. Ilsa rolled her eyes at Lucas again, but the playful spark between them lingered. They couldn't help it—bantering had always been their thing, and in this new life, it seemed to come more naturally than ever.

Later that evening, as the sun set, they found themselves back at the beach, sitting side by side in the sand. The sky was painted in shades of orange and pink, the sea reflecting the colors like liquid fire. It was peaceful, almost too peaceful for everything they had been through.

Ilsa nudged Lucas with her shoulder. "So, what's the plan? Live here forever and become kebab experts?"

"Could be worse," he said, leaning back on his elbows. "I'm pretty good with a grill. Plus, I'm a local favorite."

"Oh please," she said, laughing. "You've only been here a week. You're barely a tourist."

"Hey, I've got *charm,* remember? You said so yourself."

"Yeah, and I also said I'd cut your hair if you got too cocky."

Lucas laughed, turning to her with a mock-serious expression. "You wouldn't actually do it, would you?"

Ilsa smirked, running her fingers through his curls just to mess with him. "Don't tempt me."

He caught her hand, pulling her closer. "Admit it, you'd miss them."

She rolled her eyes, but the smile on her face gave her away. "Maybe. A little."

Lucas leaned in, his voice teasing. "More than a little."

"Fine," she admitted, her voice softening, "I missed them a lot."

They sat there for a moment, the banter falling away as the waves lapped at the shore in front of them. There was something about the quiet moments with him—amid all the teasing and joking—that made her realize how much he meant to her. But, of course, she wasn't going to let him know that *too* easily.

"So," she said, breaking the silence, "you gonna keep growing it out? Or should I start prepping the scissors?"

Lucas chuckled. "You'll have to catch me first."

"I wouldn't have to chase you, I'd just wait until you fall asleep."

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping. "I sleep with one eye open."

Ilsa rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress the laugh that escaped her. They spent the rest of the evening teasing each other, with the stars overhead and the sound of the sea wrapping around them like a blanket.

For the first time in years, life felt normal. More than normal—it felt right. They had found their place, far from the dangers of their past, and together, they were ready to start again.