Chapter 18

'Sometimes we ruin things by caring so much'

Rezan Demir

There was a silence in the room, thick and unbearable, the kind that stretched through the bones, pressing down like an omen.

Then she stirred.

A whimper, barely a sound, just the sharp hitch of breath as her lashes fluttered. A gasp trembled past her lips as she shifted, and before Rezan could even react, Zyran was already moving. The floor barely creaked beneath his weight as he rushed toward her bedside, his hand reaching out but not quite touching.

"Dikkatli (Careful)," Zyran murmurs, his voice uncharacteristically soft as he rushes to her side.

She flinches. It's so slight, just the barest twitch of her fingers where they grip the blanket, but Rezan catches it.

She doesn't look at Zyran. Won't. Her head is bowed, her trembling frame lost in the sea of blankets, and something about the way she refuses to lift her eyes makes Rezan sick to his stomach.

"Don't move too much," Zyran continues, gentle in a way that doesn't suit him. His palm hovers, uncertain, over her shoulder, as if afraid to touch. As if his mere presence will shatter her.

She remains silent. She doesn't acknowledge him, doesn't acknowledge any of them. The only proof that she's heard is the way her fingers clutch at the sheets, tighter, tighter.

And then Dehrin, reckless, brash, never one to hesitate falls to his knees beside the bed.

"I..." His voice cracks. "I'm sorry, tatlım (sweetheart), I swear I didn't know, I didn't-"

She flinches again.

Dehrin swallows hard, his whole body trembling like a boy lost at sea. Rezan has never seen him like this. Never seen him stumble over his words, never seen him look so utterly stripped of all bravado, his reckless pride reduced to ashes before their little sister.

"I didn't mean to leave you alone," Dehrin chokes out. "I should've been there- I should've-"

He can't finish. The words collapse into nothing, crushed beneath the weight of his guilt.

Still, she doesn't look at him. Doesn't look at any of them.

Cihan moves next, hesitant but determined. He reaches for the blanket, a quiet attempt to tuck it around her, to offer some small, pitiful comfort-

She jerks back. A full-body flinch. A strangled breath.

Rezan's stomach turns to ice.

The room stills. The air thickens.

"Baby," Cihan breathes, his voice breaking. He pulls his hand back immediately, fingers curling into a helpless fist at his side.

It is unbearable, the way she curls in on herself, small and silent and trembling. It is unbearable, the way she refuses to meet their eyes, as if looking at them is just as terrifying as the hands that dared to hurt her.

Rezan's hands twitch. He wants to touch her. To reassure her. To press his forehead against hers and tell her it's over, it's over, she's safe-

But they are the ones she fears.

The thought makes his stomach churn, makes his ribs feel like they're caving in. He cannot stand it.

Then she speaks.

"I didn't-" Her voice is barely above a whisper, shaking, hoarse from exhaustion and tears. "I didn't do anything."

A fresh wave of pain slams into him.

"We know, güzelim (my beautiful one)," Zyran says immediately, voice thick with something rare, something that sounds like desperation.

"I swear, we know, meleğim (my angel)," Cihan follows, his breath unsteady.

"I didn't do anything," she repeats, voice cracking, hands shaking violently where they grip the blanket. "I swear, I didn't-"

Rezan feels something in him break.

It's our fault.

"Shh, sweetheart," he murmurs, stepping closer, slow enough not to startle her. "We know. We believe you. Please don't cry."

But she is crying now.

"I didn't- " She hiccups, her body wracked with tremors, curling further into herself like a wounded animal. "I didn't, I didn't-"

Rezan clenches his jaw so tightly it aches.

His beautiful sister. His küçük çiçek (little flower), curled up in terror, drowning in fear she should never have known.

But we hurt her so much.

And that woman.

Irem rots beneath their feet, locked away in the cellars, waiting for the moment they finally decide how she will pay. She had been the mole.

But you believed her. his conscience screamed at him.

They would have let Yerenica carve them open if that's what she wanted. If she had been a traitor, if she had been a spy sent to shatter them from the inside, they still would have let her pierce their hearts, still would have knelt at her feet and kissed the blade as she did it.

Because she is theirs.

"Lütfen, bebeğim (please, my baby)," Dehrin rasps, his legs pressing against the mattress beside her. "Don't cry. Don't- "

But she does.

And none of them can stop it.

So Zyran, feared king of their world, does the only thing left to do. He moves slowly, so slowly, before sinking down to sit beside her bed. Not touching her, not crowding her, just there. A steady, silent presence.

Cihan follows. Then Dehrin.

And finally, Rezan.

She doesn't stop shaking. She doesn't stop crying.

But she is not alone.

Thoughts?

My bad I've been busy with exams. Will double update tomorrow!