Under the Stars of Istanbul

The city always looked softer from the ferry. Ayla stood near the rail, her scarf lifting in the evening wind, while Istanbul unfolded in gold and blue around her. Minarets pierced the fading light. Gulls drifted low over the water. Somewhere behind her, someone laughed, and the sound disappeared into the hush between waves. She had promised herself this move would be simple: finish the research fellowship, keep her head down, return home before her heart had time to complicate anything. Then she noticed the man across the deck. He was not looking at her. He was looking at the skyline with the stillness of someone listening for meaning inside beauty. When the adhan began from a distant mosque, he closed his eyes for a moment, and Ayla felt, with alarming certainty, that nothing about this year would remain simple.