I'm in tears and I'm writing a message to Ahmet. "You have to come and get me from here."

  I don't even know what time it is there, but I get an instant reply. "Meryem? Where are you? Should I come to your house? Just wait. I will come by plane at the earliest."

  My heart is pounding. So that's how I'm leaving Ezra, is it? I could have gone on my own. I could have left here and lived in another city in Turkey without telling anyone. I could have worked in a private hospital and been very happy. Why did I need a savior?

  But they would have found me. My father would have found me. It is easier this way. To go there with Ahmet, to say I'm ready to have a wedding. A second fake wedding. I will somehow annul my marriage here. Maybe Ahmet will help me. If I go like this, my father will forgive me for ignoring him all this time.

  I can't spend my whole life here, dependent on one word from this man's lips. So I will choose one of the two convictions. Why couldn't I choose myself from the beginning?

  I'm bored. I start breathing deeply, my head hurts. I can't stop my thoughts. I storm out of my room and find Ezra curled up on the couch in the living room.

  "You had no right to make me feel so powerless! I didn't need you to remind me how much I needed saving!" I scream at him.

  He turns to face me. He just stares into my eyes without saying anything.

  "Speak! Say something!" tears roll down my cheeks as I cry at my own instability and at the sight of her helplessness.

  "What have you done to me? In just a few months, what have you done to me? I thought everything would be fine, I wish you had never touched me."

  I kneel beside the couch, rest my head on the seat, he holds my arm. He pulls me. I can't understand what he's trying to do. "Lie down next to me," he whispers calmly. I wipe my tears. He gestures with his arm for me to put my head down. I do as he says. "We're not good for each other," I whisper. We face each other. Our breaths and wet gazes are so close.

  "No, we were bad, both of us. We were hurt. We still are." he still whispers. He puts his hand on my face, brushes my hair out of my face.

  "We couldn't heal our wounds," I say, tears welling up in my eyes.

  "We haven't learned to accept them and live with them." he says quietly. He runs his finger across my lip now.

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  As our lips meet in silence, I know it has nothing to do with passion.

  As we kiss, he puts his hand under my t-shirt. His fingers grasp my left breast. As I wonder if he can feel my heartbeat, he lets go of my lips as if he heard my thoughts and replies, "My heart feels like it's going to explode too."

  I sniffle, I look into his moist eyes, I'm immersed in that tender glow, he gets up. He makes me settle on my back on the couch. He places tiny little kisses from my forehead to my lips. The kisses of compassion on my eyelids make me want to cry even more. He spreads my leg with one hand. He places himself between my legs. He kisses my lip, the corner of my lip, my chin and comes up to my neck. I try to lift my chin up so that he can move more freely. He kisses me, grateful for this gesture, sniffing and smelling me. He helps me take off my shirt. He puts tiny bites on my breasts without removing my bra. We both have our pants on underneath. He unbuttons mine. I just follow his movements like a good girl.

  I hate him and I love him at the same time.

  He undoes my panties and slides his tongue down my crotch. I get goose bumps. I tense. A second tongue stroke, a little lower. God, I love him.

  I love what he does to me with his tongue and lips. I show him that love by grabbing his hair and pressing him against me. My moans fill the room. He pulls down his own pants. I want to do to him what he did to me. As he sits down to take off his pants, I settle on his lap. I start licking him from the neck down. I kiss his muscular belly, the one I've dreamed about for months. At one point he gets cranky and convulses. I don't care, I kneel in front of the couch and take his cock, which has grown for me, in my hand. "Meryem, stop. You don't want to make me cum like that." he whispers between his moans.

  "Do you really want me to let go?" I look into his eyes with his cock in my hand.

  He shakes his head. I take courage from this movement and slowly touch my tongue to the head of his cock. I look into his eyes to see how he feels. He throws his head back. His cock in my palm moves. Ah, you like that. You love me too.

  I run my tongue up and down his cock like an ice cream, a very hot ice cream. I think the tenderness in his gaze has finally turned to passion.

  Suddenly, while I'm licking, he grabs me by the arm and pulls me into his lap. "I don't want to cum like that," he whispers in my ear. He puts my hands behind my back in one hand. With one hand he grabs my hips and places me where I belong. As he fills the emptiness inside me, I feel at home.

  "I'm leaving tomorrow," I whisper in his ear, between my moans. He responds by closing his eyes and moaning. I sit up in his lap, he places me firmly on his lap and stands up.

  We go to his room like that. Between my legs I see a white liquid running down his legs. It's not over yet.

  He puts me on the bed. He puts me back where I should be. He presses my hands to the bed as he moves in and out of me. Oh, I'm melting.

  Our moans mingled together, loving each other in slow movements, when suddenly he decides to speed up. "I don't think I can take much more."

  "I'm already ready," I say. "Come, but keep moaning."

  I come with him as he comes inside me, fast and fast, moaning. He kisses me on my face, on my neck, everywhere.

  When he shifts, I get up. It was the first and last time we made love in this room.

  Without saying anything to him, I get in the shower and go to my room, it's almost morning. The sun is about to rise on my last day here.