Chapter Text
Iso and Fadime stood on the stone bridge, in the very same place where, almost six months earlier, their story had begun.
Now they were different people — still two young souls madly in love, who had endured so much and fought countless battles and wars for that love, only to return to the beginning once again. Once again, they were “just” enemies.
That morning, Sheriff punished Iso by forcing Zarife, in front of everyone, to choose between Iso and his brother Oruč while holding guns to the blond young men’s heads, convinced she would choose her elder son.
Or at least he thought he had punished him, because Iso did not care in the slightest that Zarife felt no maternal love for him. He no longer loved her either. His love for his mother had begun fading the day he learned the truth about her involvement in the kidnapping and sale of a child. He did not immediately begin to hate either his mother or his family, but his view of his own life gained an entirely new perspective. Over the past six months, Iso had spent countless sleepless nights questioning himself, his feelings, beliefs, and memories from the very first day he could remember. Everything he had ever heard or learned from his family or anyone in the village of Furtuna, he had turned over endlessly in his mind, completely changing his view of the generations-long hatred between the villages.
Fadime had drawn the hatred out of him, though it had not been difficult, because Esme, while raising Iso, had laid the foundations for him to become a good man — to know the difference between right and wrong, to keep an open heart and mind, and to always find words of support and understanding for others. Thanks to Esme, all Fadime had to do was allow Iso to feel, even for a second, that he truly belonged somewhere. That alone was enough for him to change his entire world for love — pure, youthful, revolutionary love.
And because of Esme, Iso stayed silent. Not for his family, whose legacy he had begun to despise. Not for his mother, his grandmother, and certainly not for his uncle. He stayed silent only for Esme.
The first time Fadime asked him whether he knew the secret, he stayed silent because of Esme, though he had not even thought it necessary to say anything when he entered the temporary, fake marriage that was supposed to last only a few days or weeks until they found the gun. As time passed, the lies between him and Fadime weighed heavily on his chest, constantly changing shape in terms of why he remained silent. In the end, just when he thought he would shatter if he did not tell the woman he loved the truth, it was already too late. Iso had not broken under the burden of the secret — the secret had exploded directly into him.
For days he had not seen his wife. For days he had neither slept nor eaten; he could not even remember whether he had drunk a glass of water. He only hoped Fadime had eaten, drunk, and slept, and that whatever punishment she decided to give him would bring her peace, because peace was no longer an option for Iso, not even in dreams.
He knew he would sign the divorce papers without a fight, because he would never keep Fadime trapped in an unwanted marriage, not even long enough to explain the situation he had found himself in. But he would have given anything to turn back time and do certain things differently.
That morning, Iso found himself in the middle of a confrontation on the stone bridge with his uncle’s men, who still remained loyal to Sheriff like dogs even though it was clear Sheriff Furtuna’s downfall was near and only a matter of time before Adil Kocari made his move to destroy him completely. But Sheriff, while he still had some time left, had placed one punishment at the top of his priorities — punishment for his nephew Iso, whom he had trusted and who had betrayed him.
Iso was not hurt because Zarife chose Oruč. What hurt him was that despite everyone being there, despite the uncertainty of whether his uncle was mad enough to kill him before so many witnesses, Fadime had not come. Esme was there. Eleni, who had forgiven him because she had seen in him a heart as good as her own, was there. Everyone was there — even Adil Kocari. Had Iso been capable, in that moment, of thinking about anyone besides Fadime, who never left his thoughts, he probably would have felt guilt toward the man he called brother, toward Adil. He knew that one day, when everything settled down, he would ask Adil for forgiveness too. But for now, he thought only of Fadime, and she was not there.
“You see, my favorite nephew, this is what it looks like when even your own mother doesn’t want you. When she betrays you too. Not even my mother betrayed me, and she herself says I am evil incarnate,” Sheriff boasted before Iso, believing that, just like him, Iso valued the honor of the Furtuna family above all else.
Iso stared blankly and said nothing, not daring to look at anyone except the ground. Eleni cried in her parents’ arms — for both Iso and Oruč. Adil Kocari looked as though he believed the boys deserved it and that it did not matter whom Zarife chose; only the pain inflicted upon that cursed family mattered. Esme cried for the boys she had raised, knowing punishment would eventually catch up with them.
The entire scene screamed with the misery of that cursed family whose blood Ismael Furtuna carried — the youngest brother, the purest soul, the most innocent person in the entire story, and yet nobody’s son.
That morning on the bridge, Ismael Furtuna knew that nothing would have changed even if his uncle had not abandoned the idea of killing him after Zarife’s choice.
“I won’t kill you, nephew. You’re not even worth that much. You betrayed your uncle, your father’s brother, to stand beside Adil Kocari, the son of your father’s murderer. To me, you are already dead. And no one else values you alive either, as you can see. That is enough reward for me, and for you, I hope it is not punishment enough,” Sheriff told him, knowing very well that years of suffering and loneliness awaited Iso.
When the whole performance ended and Sheriff’s men withdrew, the first person to approach Iso was his mother Zarife, screaming and reaching her arms toward her younger son, the child she had not looked at as a mother for years, blinded by thoughts of the money and power Oruč’s rise would bring her.
Zarife was a good actress.
Iso knew that and did not for a second believe this was anything but another one of her performances.
“Iso, my son…” Zarife began through tears, but Iso interrupted her.
“I am not your son, Zarife Furtuna. Maybe I was once your child, maybe there was once maternal love in your heart, but I no longer care about that, nor about you, your games, or your ambitions. If I could choose right now whether to rid myself of Furtuna blood or your blood, ‘mother,’ I would choose yours, because your blood is pure evil — pointless, senseless evil. You are simply evil,” Iso said in one breath, gesturing wildly as he struggled to contain the rage inside him.
The thoughts in his mind were so dark, so dangerous, and so close to becoming real that for the first time in his life, Iso was afraid of himself.
“I never want to hear your name or see your face again, Zarife, because I’m afraid of what I might do,” he continued furiously. Though visibly overwhelmed by emotion, every word came out clear and sharp, carrying unmistakable regret and nostalgia for even a fragment of normalcy in his life.
“I’m afraid of myself, mother. Thank you.”
Those were the last words Iso spoke before walking over to his brother, who was sobbing in a corner by the bridge railing, broken by life, broken by his decisions and every wrong thing he had done. Iso sat beside him and simply held him tightly while they both wept.
A few meters away stood the three members of the Kocari family, ready to turn around and return to their village, but Esme broke free from her husband and daughter and approached the boys. She knelt beside them, placed her hands on their knees, and whispered softly.
“Everything will be alright. The storms will calm. Everything will be alright. Shhhh…”
She held them as if they were little children. Neither Oruč, nor Iso, nor Esme herself believed the mantra she repeated.
Maybe everything would be alright, but Adil Kocari’s calmness was terrifying — more terrifying than his anger ever could have been. Maybe everything would be alright, but Iso and Oruč no longer had a place in such a future.
“I have to go to my family, but I will always fight for your pure hearts,” Esme said before kissing the blond heads of the two young men who looked like abandoned orphans beside the dirty road near the stone bridge.
Several minutes passed — or maybe hours; the boys could no longer tell, shattered as they were by the last few days — before Oruč finally stood up and said it was time to go home.
But what was home for them anymore? Did they even have one?
Iso wanted to ask his older brother that question, but remained silent because the lump in his throat was too heavy to swallow. He struggled to breathe. He had experienced panic attacks before, but none had ever felt like this. Usually he feared he would fail to do something properly during a panic attack, but now he feared he might destroy the entire village of Furtuna.
Oruč stood and walked to his car, glancing back at his brother, silently telling him to come too. But Iso only replied briefly that he would stay a little longer and drive home later in his own car.
Shortly afterward, Oruč left, leaving Iso alone on the bridge.
Leaning against the railing, Iso thought about everything that had happened there. The darkness in his mind left room for only one thought: that Adil Kocari should have been mad enough that day on the bridge to pull the trigger and spare both him and Fadime from this pain.
But deep down he knew that was wrong. He knew he would never forgive himself — not even six feet underground — if Adil ended up in prison because of him while Fadime suffered even more.
The only thing comforting him was the fact that Fadime had her brother beside her.
He stood on the bridge watching the water crash against the stones below when he heard the sound of a car arriving from the direction of Kocari village.
Without even looking, he knew it was Fadime. He felt it before he turned around.
And there she was.
Defiant. Proud. Head held high. Eyes filled with hatred.
But this hatred was nothing like the one from six months ago. Her eyes now carried a new dimension of emotion. They hid stories and memories, hid naïve love and trust. But they could not hide betrayal, disappointment, and sorrow. Her thick eyelashes could once conceal her first lovestruck glances toward Iso months ago, but the intensity of her disappointment could not be hidden — not with all the effort in the world. And Fadime was not trying to hide it at all.
“Furtunacuk, look at me!” she shouted the moment she stepped out of the car.
Seeing her posture, Iso truly thought for the first time that there was no going back. Anger radiated from her; not a single positive emotion could be read from her stance.
“I came bringing gifts,” she said, waving an envelope in her right hand.
She stopped a few meters from him and raised her other hand, holding a pen.
“You don’t even have to bother carrying a pen with you, Iso. I provided everything for you,” Fadime said mockingly as she walked toward the hood of his car, where she planned to enjoy watching him struggle to sign the divorce papers.
Iso knew what she wanted from him. He was not stupid, and he knew her well enough. He hoped that after the divorce, maybe Fadime would cool down with time, and perhaps one day she would find understanding for him and give him another chance. Forcing her to remain married to him was not an option for Iso. But searching once more for even the smallest trace of hope in the woman he loved was the only reason he kept living.
He did not intend to fight much or aggressively explain himself. He wanted to remain gentle and careful with her and let her come back to him when she realized he truly was shattered by guilt and that his love was the purest emotion in the world.
“Fadime, I just wanted—”
“And what exactly did you want, Iso?” she interrupted impatiently, without a shred of sympathy for whatever he had intended to say.
“You want to tell me you’re sorry?” she said flatly. “I wouldn’t believe you if you told me the sky was blue, that it was daytime outside, that clouds were white.” She glanced up at the dark sky where rain was gathering. “Hell, I wouldn’t even believe you if you told me a storm was coming.”
“I know you don’t believe me, and you don’t have to today. But one day—”
“There is no such day in any calendar in the world, Ismail Furtuna,” she cut him off again.
“There is no such day in any universe or parallel reality. To me, you are dead, man,” Fadime said emotionlessly, looking through him rather than at him while he trembled with pain.
“Fadime, I love you.”
“No, Iso, you don’t. That’s not love. Maybe you think you love me so you can patch up your conscience and stop thinking about your family’s sins that you want to wash away through me. But you do not love me. You never did,” Fadime said in one breath.
“Don’t say that.”
“I will say it.”
“Be angry, but don’t say that, Fadime. I would choose you in every universe and every parallel reality over the Furtuna family. You have to believe that. None of it was a lie.”
“I would choose you?” Fadime laughed bitterly, mocking him because she no longer believed a single thing he said. “Well, I would never choose you again. Hell, not even your own mother chose you, Iso.”
The moment those words left her mouth, she regretted them. A chill ran through her body, and she knew she would lose her composure entirely if she looked directly into Iso’s eyes. She knew because she felt herself how deeply she had stabbed at the wounds of the man she loved out of anger.
But she could not back down now.
Iso said nothing.
When those words reached him, the only thing he felt was loneliness.
He was empty.
Fadime was right.
No one had ever chosen Iso. No one, anywhere. No one had ever stood behind him.
The only thought in his mind was to sign the papers as quickly as possible and find somewhere private to suffer through a panic attack. If he could have, Iso would have curled into a ball and crawled into a hole never to emerge again, so small and abandoned did he feel in that moment.
Fadime watched him sign the papers and felt that this was the right thing to do. She had not intended to be so cruel with her words, but revenge had to hurt. He had to pay for what he had done to her.
Every time she began to feel even slightly guilty, Fadime’s mind returned to the image of her niece Eleni and the twenty stolen years.
She did not back down.
She shot several more hateful glances at the man who was now her ex-husband. She looked at him almost with disgust while he stared at her with pleading eyes. But no force in the world could have made Fadime soften. She wanted Iso to feel terrible for everything.
He deserved it.
Hatred toward the entire Furtuna family burned within her once again, and it seemed to her that Iso would not be spared even a fraction of that hatred.
Iso remained standing on the bridge as Fadime drove away home, and now all he could think about was loneliness and emptiness. They had taken Fadime away from him, and there was not a single clear thought left inside his mind.
Iso felt that even worse things were about to happen, that this was the moment when everything was breaking apart. He himself was breaking too — he could feel it. So many emotions crashed through him at once that he felt as though he might vomit.
Oruč was waiting for him at home, but “home” for Iso meant nothing more than returning once again to Furtuna — just another day of struggle and suffering, another chance of running into someone from his family, another day filled with trouble.
Iso was falling apart on that bridge. Mentally and physically, he felt unbearable pain. It was as though Fadime’s words, together with everything that had happened that morning, had drained all the air from his body, as though he were being swallowed by a vacuum.
He was at the very end of his strength.
He fell to his knees on the bridge once again, six months later. But this time, there was no one standing before him. No enemies. He had knelt before emptiness itself.
What would happen next to destroy him completely? Iso wondered.
Only the wind could be heard.
And whatever came next, he knew it would be the end of him.
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Oruč had been waiting for his brother for hours, and now he was beginning to worry. Iso was not answering his calls or messages.
At first, Oruč thought Iso simply needed time to process everything. But after a while, he decided to return to the stone bridge to check where Iso was. The moment Oruč saw Iso’s car, he thought everything was fine and that Iso had probably just stayed behind on the bridge, lost in thought. But that relief vanished instantly.
There, at the far end of the bridge, a lifeless body lying in a pool of blood appeared before him on the horizon.