As the train began to slow, nearing the grand city of Istanbul, Yuzarsif leaned slightly toward Azra, careful not to startle her. The golden hues of the setting sun filtered through the windows, casting a soft light on her peaceful face. She had fallen asleep sometime after their brief conversation, her head tilted gently to the side, a strand of hair resting across her cheek.
"You seemed really tired," Yuzarsif said softly, his voice calm and unintrusive. "You slept for almost four hours."
Azra blinked as she stirred awake, momentarily disoriented before her eyes focused on Yuzarsif's face. "Ooh… thanks for waking me up," she murmured, brushing her hair back.
"No problem. I figured you wouldn't want to miss your stop."
Azra sat up straighter, adjusting her dupatta and gathering her things. "I guess I was more tired than I thought. I usually don't fall asleep like that in public."
Yuzarsif gave a half-smile. "You must have felt safe. That's not a bad thing."
His words made her pause. There was an unexpected gentleness in them, something she wasn't used to from strangers—especially not from men like him.
"Maybe," she said, her voice low. "Or maybe I was just exhausted."
He didn't push the matter. Instead, he stood and reached up to retrieve her small suitcase from the rack above. He handed it to her without a word, his touch careful.
Azra took it with a nod of thanks, not sure what else to say. Her mind still swirled with questions about him—who he was, where he came from, and why someone like him was on a train rather than in a private jet or a chauffeured car.
Moments later, the train hissed to a halt at Istanbul Central Station. The hustle and bustle of the crowd pulled Azra fully from her thoughts. She stepped down from the train and immediately spotted her friend, Turna, waving enthusiastically from the platform.
"Azra! Over here!"
Azra's serious expression softened at the sight of Turna's familiar face. She pulled her suitcase behind her and approached her friend with a small smile.
"I missed you!" Turna said, pulling her into a quick hug.
"Missed you too," Azra replied. "You look the same."
Turna laughed. "That's a good thing, right? Come on, let's get out of here. I've already booked a cab."
They made their way outside and quickly slid into a waiting taxi. As the vehicle pulled into the busy streets of Istanbul, Turna chatted excitedly about everything Azra had missed. Azra listened, occasionally nodding, her eyes still distant. Her thoughts wandered back to the train, to Yuzarsif, and the strange feeling that their encounter wasn't yet over.
Meanwhile, Yuzarsif stepped off the train from a different compartment. As expected, a black luxury car awaited him at the station entrance. His family's driver, an older man named Karim, opened the door for him with a respectful nod.
"Welcome back, sir. Your father is expecting you at the estate."
Yuzarsif glanced at the sleek car, then shook his head. "Not yet. I'm not going there tonight."
Karim hesitated. "Shall I take you somewhere else, sir?"
"Take me to the penthouse," Yuzarsif said, adjusting his cuffs. "I need some time alone."
Karim gave a quick nod. "As you wish."
The car pulled away from the station, leaving behind the noise and energy of the crowd. Yuzarsif leaned back against the seat, one hand resting thoughtfully on his chin. He had seen hundreds of faces in his life—people fawning over him, trying to get close for his wealth, his name, his power. But Azra had been different. She hadn't cared who he was. If anything, she had distanced herself from him.
And that intrigued him more than he expected.
The drive to the penthouse was short. Nestled in one of the tallest towers in Istanbul, the penthouse offered panoramic views of the Bosphorus and the glittering city skyline. As they reached the private elevator, Yuzarsif dismissed Karim with a quiet "Good night."
The doors closed behind him, and within seconds, he was inside his sanctuary. The penthouse was sleek, modern, with tall windows, dark wood, and steel accents. Yet despite its luxurious appeal, there was a strange emptiness to it—a silence that echoed too loudly.
Yuzarsif poured himself a glass of water and stood by the window, watching the city lights twinkle. His thoughts returned to the girl on the train.
Azra.
He didn't know her full name. Didn't know her story. But he wanted to. Not out of idle curiosity—but something deeper. There was strength in her quietness. Grace in her simplicity.
And now, he couldn't stop thinking about her.
Back in the taxi, Turna was still talking, but she noticed Azra wasn't fully present.
"Earth to Azra," she teased. "Where did you go? You've barely said a word."
Azra blinked. "Sorry, just tired."
"Is it the guy from the train?" Turna asked slyly.
Azra's eyes widened slightly. "What? No."
Turna laughed. "Oh, come on. You haven't stopped glancing out the window with that mysterious look. Something definitely happened."
Azra sighed. "He helped me. That's all."
"Uh-huh. Helped you and now lives in your head rent-free. Got it."
Azra gave her friend a look, but Turna just grinned.
They reached their apartment—a cozy two-bedroom unit on the top floor of an old building in a quieter district. It wasn't much, but it was theirs. Azra dropped her bag by the door and looked around, feeling a sense of relief.
"Home," she said quietly.
Turna flopped onto the couch. "Make yourself tea, then tell me everything."
Azra rolled her eyes but smiled faintly.
Far across the city, Yuzarsif stood still by his window, unaware that this quiet, determined girl was already changing something inside him.
And for Azra, the stranger from the train would not just be a memory. He would become a part of a future she had never planned for.
Their journey was just beginning.