Selin
The house had finally gone quiet.
The yelling had stopped. Nilay had gone to cool down—possibly by plotting Alekos's dramatic public trial—and Alekos himself was nowhere to be seen. Most likely hiding behind a couch cushion or in a closet somewhere, mourning his dignity.
I closed my bedroom door behind me, leaned against it, and exhaled.
Hard.
The moment replayed in my head—on a loop.
The hoodie.
My bare skin.
The way his eyes widened.
And then froze.
Like he'd forgotten how to function.
And then... he looked.
Just for a second.
A little longer than a second.
Long enough that I felt it. That kind of look that didn't belong to a best friend. It wasn't casual, or clinical, or a "hey, oops, sorry" kind of glance.
It was—
God.
I dropped onto my bed and groaned into my hands.
Why was I smiling?
I should've been mortified. I was mortified. But right under that panic, just beneath the leftover shock of flashing my best friend and his mother—
There was this… glow. This stupid heat blooming in my chest that hadn't cooled since he ran out of the room yelling about souls and shoes.
I buried my face into a pillow and let out the most confused sound ever created by a human throat.
It was supposed to be just a marriage of convenience.
A contract.
A promise to have a child with someone I trusted.
Not this.
Not heat under my skin when he looked at me.
Not butterflies when he smirked.
Not this blush that refused to fade.
He looked at me like I was—
No.
Stop.
I shook my head, sat upright, and exhaled again.
I needed water.
I needed air.
I needed to not remember the fact that he covered his chest like he was the violated one and still had the audacity to say "I know what I did" with a smirk that nearly ended me.
God, I question whether this was still for the baby or…?
Creeeak.
The door cracked open an inch.
I looked up, startled, just as a familiar mop of dark hair and a pair of nervous green eyes peeked through.
Alekos.
"Hey," he said quietly.
I blinked. "You lived?"
"Barely," he muttered. "Emotionally, I might sue."
He opened the door a little wider and stepped in, hands shoved in his pockets, eyes very carefully not meeting mine.
"I just—uh—I wanted to say sorry."
"For?"
He cleared his throat. "For… looking."
I tilted my head. "Which time?"
His mouth dropped open. "Selin."
"I'm kidding."
I wasn't.
But I said it like I was.
He rubbed the back of his neck. "It was just… sudden. I wasn't trying to. I didn't even know you weren't—y'know—and then it was just bam—and I blacked out. Mentally."
I let out a sound that was half-snort, half-gasp. "Yeah, that tracks."
"I swear I wasn't being a creep," he rushed on. "I still respect you. This marriage… thing… you—it's not about that."
I nodded slowly. "I know."
Then came the silence. The awkward, humming silence between two people who knew something was shifting but didn't know how to name it yet.
He glanced at me once, quickly, like a reflex—and then dropped his eyes again.
"…You looked really good," he added, voice softer.
My breath caught. I felt it down to my toes.
He winced. "Was that weird? That was weird. I shouldn't have said that."
"No," I said before I could think. "Thanks. That's… really sweet."
He smiled, small and a little crooked. And my stomach did another stupid little flip.
"I'll let you breathe," he said, already turning toward the door. "If you need anything—like a helmet, or emotional damage control—I'll be in my room. Probably mourning the second shoe."
I laughed under my breath. "Or icing your pride."
He grinned over his shoulder. "Same thing."
Then he was gone.
And I was still sitting there.
Blushing.
Breathing too hard.
And maybe—just maybe—realizing I had absolutely no idea what we were doing anymore.
But whatever this was?
It wasn't just about the baby.
Not anymore.
Alekos
I closed her door behind me as gently as I could, like I might set off some kind of emotional alarm if it clicked too loud.
Back in my own room, I stood there like a statue for a full ten seconds.
Then I dragged both hands down my face and muttered, "What the hell am I doing?"
I paced.
Once.
Twice.
Thrice.
Then I stopped in front of the mirror, stared at myself, and shook my head.
"You looked," I told my reflection.
The mirror version of me didn't even deny it.
And not just looked—lingered.
Because there she was: my best friend since forever, the girl who used to sneak me her lunch cookies in fourth grade, who once kicked a guy for calling me a bastard in middle school, who watched me bleed in the boxing ring and said, "You still owe me a smoothie."
Selin.
And now she was my wife.
By contract.
By logic.
By this careful plan to have a baby and beat her diagnosis to the finish line.
That was the deal.
No emotions.
No complications.
No blushing and heart-pounding and wanting to kiss her so badly I had to clench my jaw just to stay upright.
God.
That look on her face when I stepped into her room?
Soft.
Shy.
Still red in the cheeks, but smiling.
Not angry.
Not hiding.
She let me in.
And I barely made it five seconds without losing my grip on reality again.
She looked at me like maybe she wanted me to stay longer.
And I wanted to.
I wanted to really look at her. Not in shock, not in panic, not by accident.
I wanted to memorize her.
And God help me, I wanted to kiss her.
So badly.
Not just out of lust. Not because of last night. But because something in me shifted.
I've known Selin my entire life.
But suddenly… she feels like something I've never had before.
Something I'm not sure I deserve.
And yet I'm standing here, wondering what it would feel like to press my mouth to hers, not in a kiss that says I'm here to help—but one that says I'm yours if you'll let me be.
I don't even know when this happened.
But I'm starting to think…
This isn't just for the baby anymore.
Nilay
I'd been cleaning the house like a woman possessed.
Mostly to burn off the rage of having to throw a shoe at my only son for ogling his own wife like he'd never seen a breast before. Or two. Or a whole ribcage covered in vampire kisses.
Don't get me wrong—I was proud. The boy had stamina. But there's a time and place, and in front of your mother is neither.
By noon, I'd wiped every counter, fluffed every pillow, and even reorganized the spice rack out of sheer emotional retaliation. I took a moment to sip my tea, perfectly brewed, and stared into the distance.
Then I clapped once, loudly, like an overly dramatic sitcom matriarch.
"Alright, kids," I called toward the hallway. "Alton and I are leaving."
No answer.
I raised my voice. "HELLO? I KNOW YOU'RE HIDING IN DIFFERENT ROOMS BUT YOU STILL LIVE UNDER MY ROOF FOR ANOTHER FIFTEEN SECONDS."
Selin peeked her head out first. Blushing. Adorable. She looked like someone who'd just recovered from being publicly flash-banged.
Then came Alekos, dragging his feet, hoodie half-on, dignity nowhere to be found. Good.
Alton stood near the front door, pretending to scroll on his phone while clearly listening in case I lost my mind again.
"We'll be back next week," I said sweetly. "Unless I hear moaning through the walls. Then I'm moving in permanently."
Both of them groaned.
"MA."
"Nilay, please—"
I waved a hand. "Oh hush, I changed your diapers. Nothing you do now is more humiliating than what I've already wiped."
Selin let out a little snort she tried to hide behind her hand.
And then I hit them with the real reminder.
"Oh—and remember," I added brightly, grabbing my bag. "Tomorrow's an odd day."
They both blinked at me in unison.
And groaned. Again.
Alekos literally collapsed against the wall. "Why did you say that out loud?"
"Because one of you needs to remember to track the schedule. It's ovulation time, sweetheart. And Selin's uterus doesn't wait for your emotional baggage."
"Mother, I swear to God—"
"Be gentle," I added pointedly, turning to him with the most serious mom glare I could summon. "She's not a training dummy. You're not sparring. She's still healing."
He looked like he might spontaneously implode.
"I'm going to walk into traffic."
"Walk into a pharmacy and get some electrolyte packets," I replied. "You'll need them."
Selin looked like she was trying to decide whether to die or laugh.
She did both.
Alton finally opened the front door, shaking his head. "Come on, woman. Leave the children in peace."
I gave both of them a sharp nod and a cheek kiss.
"Odd day," I repeated over my shoulder. "Make it count."
Then I left.
And smiled the entire way to the car.
Because chaos aside?
They were falling for each other.
And they were the last ones to realize it.
Alekos
We stood there in stunned silence after my mother and Alton finally left.
The air still vibrated with the echoes of chaos—her voice, her warnings, the phrase "odd day" practically burned into the furniture.
I stared at the closed front door like it might swing open again and slap me.
Then Selin broke the silence.
"We should go to the park."
I blinked. "What?"
She turned to me, voice calmer than I expected. "I just… want to get out. Clear my head. The park. You know."
I blinked again, still short-circuited. "Huh?"
She lifted an eyebrow. "The one behind the mosque."
Ah.
Click.
I got it.
That mosque.
That park.
The same one where we used to hide out when life fell apart in high school. Where we'd sit on that stupid old bench under the fig tree and just exist, no words needed.
It was always our escape.
That time we both failed physics and Nilay nearly set the school on fire?
We ended up there.
The day she got rejected by the boy she had a crush on in tenth grade—he laughed, and I nearly decked him in the locker hallway?
We ended up there.
The night my dad —Alton— lost it and left a bruise on my cheek I couldn't hide?
She made me ride there in the middle of the night.
She didn't say a word. Just sat beside me on that bench and held my hand like that was the only thing keeping me from floating away.
And now?
I nodded once. "Yeah. Let's go."
Ten minutes later, we were on my motorcycle, her arms around my waist.
And it was a problem.
The closeness.
Her thighs brushed mine.
Her cheek pressing lightly against my back when we hit a turn.
Her arms tightening the way they always used to when she was scared—but this time, it felt different.
It was the same warmth.
But a different heat.
And I hated how aware of her I was.
Of every point of contact.
Every breath.
Every flutter of her hoodie brushing against my shirt.
This was Selin.
Selin.
My best friend. My wife. My something-I-didn't-know-how-to-handle-anymore.
The closer we got to the park, the louder the memories got.
And the harder it became to pretend I didn't want to turn the bike around, find a quiet alley, and kiss her until we forgot every rule we created.
Selin
We didn't speak the entire ride.
I held onto him a little tighter than necessary, and he pretended not to notice. But I felt the tension in him—the silence behind his teeth, the way he gripped the handlebars like the bike was the only thing keeping him grounded.
I was no better.
By the time we reached the old park behind the mosque, the sky had turned gold and quiet. The fig tree cast long shadows on the bench we hadn't sat on in years.
It looked the same.
We didn't.
We sat down like it was instinct. His elbows on his knees, mine hugged to my chest. The silence wrapped around us like it always used to. But this time, it wasn't the peaceful kind.
It was heavy.
Buzzing.
He finally spoke—soft, hesitant.
"Do you ever wonder… what we're doing?"
I stared straight ahead, then gave a slow, honest nod.
"All the time."
It landed like a confession. We didn't try to pretend.
"I mean," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck, "this was supposed to be clean. Safe. Logical."
I snorted. "You say that like you didn't mark me like a territory."
"I didn't mean to go full vampire—"
"Well, your teeth definitely meant it."
He huffed a half-laugh. Then looked at me.
Not quickly. Not nervously.
Really looked at me.
God.
I couldn't handle that look.
I felt like I was burning under it. But not the painful kind.
The kind that makes flowers grow.
"I don't know what's happening," he admitted. "But… I want to kiss you."
That silenced me.
He stiffened. "Okay. That was too much. Just—ignore that—"
But I didn't.
I leaned forward.
Just enough.
And pressed a light kiss to his cheek.
Not a friend kiss.
Not a pity kiss.
But something warm. Barely there. Quiet, like a secret.
His breath caught.
He turned to me, eyes wide.
"Selin…"
My cheeks were burning, but I didn't pull back. "You said you wanted to kiss me."
"I meant on the lips—wait, no, I didn't mean—I did—not like that—ugh—"
I laughed. Soft. Nervous.
He did too.
And for the first time in hours, the tension cracked. Not completely. But enough for the light to sneak in.
We didn't say anything after that.
We just sat there.
Close.
Fingers brushing. Shoulders barely touching.
He didn't kiss me.
But I could tell—
He really wanted to.
And I didn't mind.
We didn't rush home.
The sun had dipped completely, leaving the sky painted with velvet purples and deep blues. The street lamps flickered one by one, and the air was warm—soft in that way it gets at night when everything is quieter than usual.
Alekos walked beside me.
Close enough that our hands kept brushing. Not on purpose. Not quite.
But neither of us moved away.
The silence had changed.
Still quiet.
But not heavy.
Comfortable.
Hopeful.
And maybe just a little charged.
"You remember," I said suddenly, "when we came here after we failed that physics test?"
He groaned. "Don't remind me. Mama almost re-enrolled herself to pass it for us."
"She threatened to do our final project wearing a lab coat and heels."
"She showed up to the parent-teacher conference with goggles."
I snorted. "And called the teacher a 'damp calculator in a bad tie.'"
We both laughed, too loud, like we were seventeen again.
It felt good.
He glanced sideways at me. "Or the time you got rejected by that theater guy—what was his name? Deniz?"
I groaned. "Ugh. Don't. He said I was 'too intense.'"
Alekos raised an eyebrow. "You are intense."
"You liked that about me!"
"I still do."
My heart stopped for a beat.
I looked at him.
He realized what he said.
We didn't say anything for a moment too long.
"…Anyway," I murmured, because I didn't know what else to do. "You came here that night. With hot chocolate and that ugly blanket from your trunk."
"That blanket was iconic."
"It was ugly."
"Ugly and reliable," he said. "Like me."
I laughed.
But deep down, I wanted to say: no. Not ugly.
Never ugly.
Just… mine.
We walked a little more, letting the breeze tangle around us. The mosque lights glowed in the distance behind us like a memory we were slowly leaving behind.
"I miss this," I said quietly. "Just… us. Like this."
He didn't answer right away.
Then: "Me too."
Our hands brushed again.
And this time…
I let my fingers stay there.
So did he.
We didn't lock hands.
Not yet.
But they stayed, side by side.
And it was enough.
Alekos
The ride home was quiet.
Not tense—just… full.
Full of everything we didn't say. Everything that happened in the park. That kiss on my cheek. Her hand brushing mine. The way she looked at me like she wasn't sure if she'd just made a mistake or a promise.
I drove slower than usual.
Took the long way home. On purpose.
Every time she leaned into me on a curve, every time I felt her exhale against my back, something in my chest clenched tighter. I wasn't ready for this feeling to end. Not yet.
We parked in front of the house and just… sat for a second.
She hopped off first, hoodie swaying behind her as she smoothed her hair down, eyes still dreamy from the night.
I climbed off the bike and tugged at my jacket like it could hide the fact that my heart hadn't slowed down since she kissed me.
She turned toward the door.
And I panicked.
"Do you want tea?"
She blinked. "What?"
"Tea. You know. Warm liquid. Good for nerves. Not weird. Very platonic."
She squinted. "Are you okay?"
"Fine," I said quickly. "Just… not sleepy."
She tilted her head. "Because I kissed your cheek?"
I flinched. "I didn't say that."
"You didn't have to."
She smiled.
Damn her.
She was enjoying this.
I scratched the back of my neck. "I just… figured maybe we'd sit. Talk. Not about ovulation or My mom's assault schedule. Just… us."
Selin hesitated.
Then stepped closer. "Tea sounds nice."
And just like that, I could breathe again.
We walked inside, still silent but a little closer than before. I went straight to the kettle, filled it up, turned it on. My hands were stupidly shaky. Why was I nervous? It was Selin.
My best friend.
My best friend who had kissed me.
My best friend whose bare chest I'd seen against my will—and kind of burned into memory.
God, I needed to shut up.
"You're being weird," she said, sliding onto a stool at the kitchen island.
"I'm not being weird," I lied.
She raised an eyebrow.
I dropped a teabag in each mug, pretending I wasn't overthinking the steeping time like it was an Olympic sport. "Okay. Maybe slightly weird."
She tilted her head again. "Because of the kiss?"
"No."
"Because of the hoodie incident?"
"Definitely not."
"Because we're married, and your mom scheduled our sex life like a dental appointment?"
I groaned. "That. That right there. Please stop talking."
She laughed.
Soft.
Unbothered.
Beautiful.
And I realized something, in that moment—with the kitchen lights soft and her voice wrapping around me like a blanket from the past:
I didn't just want her because we were married.
Or because we were friends.
I wanted her because she made everything—chaos, awkwardness, silence—feel like home.
And God help me…
I wanted another kiss.