The morning light always came in at the same angle.
Outside the window, the city had not fully woken yet.
The smell of fresh bread drifted from somewhere far off.
A faint hum of passing cars lingered in the distance.
This was Ankara.
A strange city—noisy, yet somehow quiet.
Barış pulled the curtain open just a little.
Light stretched across the floor.
He watched it.
Something was missing—
That feeling had been there for years now.
No clear reason.
Just a sense that something, somewhere, was slightly out of place.
The room was quiet.
Too quiet.
At times, even his own presence felt uncertain.
…Same as always.
The words slipped out under his breath, then disappeared into the walls.
At the breakfast table, Emine was already there, as usual.
Only the sound of a knife moving through bread filled the room.
You’re up.
That was all she said. Nothing followed.
In this house, words were few.
Only what was necessary was spoken.
Everything else was left to silence.
His father was the same—
No.
More precisely, something never spoken at all.
Barış sat down and took a bite of bread.
It should have been warm.
But there was nothing.
For a brief moment, an image flickered—
someone’s back, fading into distance.
He had never turned around.
Only that figure remained, for some reason.
…Mom.
A short pause.
What was my father like?
The knife stopped.
Just for a second.
That was enough.
In this house, that was an answer.
Emine placed the bread on the plate, slowly.
She didn’t look at him.
…It’s in the past.
The words settled quietly.
Something stirred, faintly, deep inside his chest.
For a moment, a question rose—why no one would tell him.
But it didn’t stay.
Nothing more followed.
Outside, the air was slightly cold.
Mornings in Ankara were quieter than expected.
Distant hills. Old stone walls.
People beginning to move, slowly.
Barış walked his usual path.
A road he had taken countless times.
Nothing should have changed.
And yet—something felt different today.
The wind.
It wasn’t strong.
It wasn’t weak.
Just… strange.
As if it carried something of its own.
It brushed against his back.
—Almost like a push.
Barış stopped.
He turned.
No one was there.
Only the wind, passing through.
…Just my imagination.
Even so, something small remained.
A faint weight, somewhere inside.
He kept walking.
Soon, he found himself in front of an old building.
A place he had seen many times before.
But today, his steps stopped.
It felt like something was there.
Beyond the door.
No reason.
Just that feeling.
Barış slowly reached out his hand.
It stopped, just before touching.
…What am I doing?
A quiet, almost amused breath.
There was no meaning in this.
He knew that.
And yet—
He couldn’t pull away.
The wind came again.
A little stronger this time.
Pushing against his back.
Something shifted inside him.
It was small.
Almost nothing.
But it carried the shape of a beginning.
Nothing had happened yet.
Nothing had changed.
And still—
Somewhere, something had already begun.
Barış lifted his head.
The sky was the same as always.
But standing beneath it,
he no longer felt the same.
The wind blew once more.
This time, clearly—
forward.
He didn’t know why.
He didn’t know where.
And yet—
he knew he had to move.
Barış took a step.
It was small.
But it was—
the beginning of everything.
