As the train pulled into the station, the air smelled of sea salt and blooming citrus. He didn't call a cab. He walked. Every step through the narrow, winding streets felt like a puzzle piece clicking into place. He passed the old tea house where they had shared their first quiet tea, and the stone wall where he’d carved their initials—now weathered but still there.
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The door opened. Leyla stood there, a book in her hand, her eyes widening as the light from the hallway hit his face. The silence lasted only a second, but it held three years of unspoken words. As the train pulled into the station, the
For three years, he had lived in the grey silence of a city that didn't know his name. He had chased a career that promised everything but felt like nothing. But every night, when the noise died down, a single melody would hum in the back of his mind—the sound of Leyla’s laughter and the way she used to hum a tune while watering the jasmine on her balcony. Every step through the narrow, winding streets felt