CHAPTER TWO
1403 Words
Nora – The Warning
“Mom, what do you mean I’m not safe there? What are you not telling me?”
Her eyes widened with something I’d never seen in her before, raw fear. Not the kind you show when you stub a toe or lose your keys. No, this was different. Her hands trembled as she wrapped them around the glass of water, her knuckles going white. She was shaken, breath shallow, like she’d just woken up from a nightmare that clung to her bones.
I didn’t understand what was going on. Her sudden shift in demeanor, the dread in her voice—it didn’t make sense. This wasn’t like her. My mother, the formidable Judge Nadia Aslan, didn’t spook easily. But this morning, she was a ghost of herself.
She exhaled, hard. A soft shake of her head followed, as if she was trying to reason herself out of whatever she’d seen. “I… ahem… I had a dream,” she said finally, eyes darting everywhere but me. “You were in trouble and… Oh, Nora, just listen to me, please. Don’t go.”
I stared at her. “Mom, you’re just being paranoid. I’ve never gone anywhere without you before. That’s probably why you’re having dreams like that.” I tried to keep my voice calm, light, even teasing, but my heart was beginning to race. There was something in her voice that clung to me like fog—unshakable and dense.
She closed her eyes and whispered, “Nora…”
“Shhh. It’s just a dream, Mom. Nothing more. I’ll be back before you know it.”
She looked like she wanted to argue, her lips parting with urgency. But then she sighed—deep, tired, almost defeated—and tucked a loose strand of my hair behind my ear.
“Fine,” she whispered. “If you say so. Just… be careful. And call me every minute you get the chance.”
I laughed, gently. “Mom! I’m almost nineteen. You still expect me to call you every second?”
She placed her glass down on the counter and handed me a steaming cup of coffee. “I know you can’t make it a day without this.”
I smiled, accepting it. “Thanks, Mom.”
I watched her for a long moment, unsure why the pit in my stomach wouldn’t ease. She looked tired despite her beauty—her cheekbones still sharp, lips painted in a soft neutral shade, her elegant dark curls pinned into a bun. People always said I looked like her. And I did. Her strength, her poise—I’d always admired it. But now, she seemed smaller. As though fear had eroded her edges.
“I’m serious about the calls, Nora.” Her voice dropped, eyes pleading. “It’s the only way I’ll be at ease.”
I nodded. “Okay. I promise. I’ll call you every chance I get, even though I know you’ll be calling me regardless.”
I took a long sip of my coffee just as my phone buzzed. A text from Emma.
Emma: “Girl! Where the hell are you?”
Me: “Woke up late! Where are you now?”
Emma: “At the goddamn airport!”
I had to laugh. Typical Emma—dramatic, punctual when it didn’t matter, late when it did.
Me: “Sorry! I’m on my way now, I’ll be there in a jiffy.”
Emma: “You better get your ass here now! You owe me free lunch.”
Me: “Girl, we’re traveling. Remember?”
Emma: “I don’t give a s**t! You’re still buying me lunch.”
Me: “Says the queen of lateness.”
Emma: “I’m not the one late now, so MOVE.”
“Mom! Get your car keys,” I called out, already running toward the door. “Emma’s at the airport already!”
Mom followed behind, holding my suitcase. “You forgot this.”
I took it from her sheepishly. “Sorry. Let’s go.”
⸻
By the time we reached the airport, Emma looked ready to explode. She stood by the check-in counter, arms crossed, tapping her foot like a strict auntie from a Bollywood film. I ran to her, suitcase bumping behind me.
“You’re lucky we made it just in time,” she muttered.
“I’ll buy you lunch. Or dinner. Or both. Chill.”
We settled into a small café inside the terminal while we waited for our flight. I stirred my orange juice with the straw, my mind still back at home.
Emma glanced up. “How’s your mom?”
I shrugged. “Paranoid. Said she had a dream I was in danger. Kept begging me not to go.”
Emma snorted. “What? That’s hilarious. A dream?”
I gave her a look. “I’m serious, Emmy. She’s never been like this before. It’s bothering me.”
Emma raised an eyebrow. “You’re seriously buying into that? Look, if all my dreams came true, we’d be starring in Nightmare on Elm Street right now. Or worse, The Conjuring.”
Despite my unease, I laughed. Loud. Emma had that effect. Her humor was the kind that sliced tension like butter. She grinned, triumphant.
“Relax, babe. Parents get like that. She’s just scared to let you go. And she loves you. That’s what this is.”
Maybe she was right. Maybe it really was nothing.
I took another sip of my juice when I noticed her—sitting behind Emma, pretending to read a magazine. A woman. Olive skin, sleek long hair, dressed in a gray coat far too heavy for the summer air. She wasn’t reading. She was staring.
I froze.
Emma looked up. “What’s wrong?”
“Someone’s staring at me,” I whispered.
“Who?” she said, instantly alert.
“Don’t look,” I hissed.
Emma blinked. “Why?”
“Because then she’ll know that we know she’s looking.”
“Oh, come on. Let me—”
“No.”
Emma ignored me and glanced anyway. The woman immediately dropped her eyes to her magazine, flipping the page far too fast.
Emma turned back, unimpressed. “You’re overthinking. I’ve seen a dozen people stare at you like that. It’s your face. You’re a showstopper.”
I rolled my eyes. “That doesn’t make it any less creepy.”
Emma gave me a smirk. “You are gorgeous, Nora. Long black hair almost to your hips, hazel eyes that sparkle gold in the sun, curves that belong in a Renaissance painting… I’d stare at you too if I didn’t know you.”
I blushed, hard. “Stop. Seriously.”
“Just saying. Your parents blessed you with all the good genes. Be proud of it.”
I tried to shake the unease, but the woman’s gaze lingered in my mind. Even now, I could feel it, like eyes crawling over my skin.
“She’s not just staring,” I murmured. “She’s watching. Every move.”
Emma waved it off. “You’re nervous, that’s all. Once we’re in the air, you’ll forget all about it.”
⸻
Our seats in business class were nothing short of luxury. The Emirates flight was pure decadence—wide leather seats, ambient lighting, an actual menu with dishes that sounded like poetry. Emma looked like she’d walked into heaven.
“I swear, I’m not moving once the food comes. Let me live like the queen I am,” she said, slipping on the silk eye mask they provided.
I smiled but barely heard her. My phone buzzed just as I was about to switch it off.
Dad: “Don’t come to Yildiz. Wait for me in Istanbul. Please, darling, do not go to Yildiz.”
My heart stopped.
What?
He wasn’t supposed to know I was coming. I hadn’t told him. The entire point of this trip was to surprise him. So how…?
Did Mom tell him?
But why would she?
I stared at the screen, rereading the message, trying to make sense of the urgency, the fear laced into his words.
Don’t come to Yildiz.
Why?
Why didn’t they want me to go there?
First Mom, now Dad.
Two people who hadn’t agreed on anything in years were suddenly aligned.
What the hell was going on in Yildiz?
- Writer
