Chapter 1: Collision of Past and Present
The bar was a haze of dim lights and pulsing music, the kind of place where old wounds could resurface with a single glance. Yağmur sipped her gin tonic, her sharp eyes scanning the crowd with a confidence that turned heads. She wasn’t here to reminisce, but fate had a cruel sense of humor. Across the room, Kenan stood, his broad shoulders and familiar smirk cutting through the sea of strangers. Their eyes locked, and the air crackled with unspoken history.
“Well, damn,” Kenan drawled, sauntering over with a cocky grin, ignoring the man at Yağmur’s side. “If it isn’t the queen of breaking hearts. Still looking like trouble, Yağmur.”
She arched a brow, her lips curling into a smirk of her own. “And you’re still the king of screwing things up, Kenan. What, did you come to apologize after all these years, or just to stare?”
His laugh was low, dangerous. “Oh, I’ve got plenty to say, but I’m more curious about the pretty boy here.” He nodded toward Berke, who shifted uncomfortably beside Yağmur. “What’s this, a downgrade?”
Yağmur’s gaze hardened, her voice dripping with venom. “Careful, Kenan. You don’t get to judge who I’m with after you fucked up everything we had. Walk away before you embarrass yourself.”
But Kenan didn’t walk away. His jealousy flared, hot and reckless, as he stepped closer to Berke. Words turned to shoves, and within moments, fists flew. Yağmur rolled her eyes, stepping back as the two men scuffled like teenagers. When it was over, Berke stormed off, and Kenan stood there, panting, his lip split and a cut above his eye dripping crimson.
“You’re an idiot,” Yağmur snapped, grabbing a napkin from the bar and pressing it to his face with more force than necessary. “What the hell was that about? You think acting like a caveman impresses me?”
Kenan winced but smirked through the pain, his voice husky. “Maybe not, but you’re still here, aren’t you? Still close enough I can smell that damn perfume that used to drive me crazy.”
She froze, her hand lingering on his cheek, her breath catching as old memories surged. “Don’t,” she warned, but her voice lacked conviction. Their faces were inches apart, the heat of their past burning through the years of distance. His eyes darkened, hungry, and she hated how her body responded, a traitor to her resolve.
“Tell me you don’t feel it,” he murmured, his hand brushing her waist, pulling her closer. “Tell me you don’t remember how good we were.”
“Shut up,” she hissed, but the words barely left her lips before she was in his lap, her hands gripping his collar as their mouths crashed together. The kiss was raw, desperate, tasting of blood and gin and a thousand unresolved fights. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, and his grip tightened on her hips, a silent battle for control neither wanted to lose.
“We can’t do this here,” she gasped, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze, her chest heaving. “Not with everyone watching.”
Kenan’s grin was feral, his voice a low growl. “Then let’s go somewhere we can. My car’s out back. Unless you’re scared to finish what you started.”
Yağmur’s eyes narrowed, a challenge sparking in them. “Scared? You wish. Lead the way, asshole. But don’t think this means I’ve forgiven you.”
As they slipped out into the cool night air, the tension between them was a live wire, ready to ignite. The promise of what awaited in the shadowed privacy of his car hung heavy, their steps quickening with a shared, unspoken need.
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