I'm waiting for Serkan in front of his office as dusk settles over the city. I've opted for high-waisted, distressed jeans, black high-top All Stars, and an oversized red sweater with a frayed neckline that slips off one shoulder. This contract with Serkan is my ticket out—my chance to sever ties with my father once and for all and finish my studies. My dreams of Italy are still alive, with or without a fiancé. This farce ends the moment Selim, Serkan's ex, realizes she belongs with him and dumps her mysterious fiancé. If she had a single brain cell, she'd never go back to him, but I suppose there's a taste for everything—even for a pompous robot.
Serkan exits the building looking uninspired. I check my watch; he is precisely on time.
"Wow. Punctuality."
"Actually, you're late."
"No, I'm not."
"It's 8:00 PM, Hande. You're thirty minutes late."
"I'm pretty sure I said 8:00."
"No, you said seven-thirty."
"I think I know what I said," I smile with disdain.
"Let's just get this over with, madam."
My father is a powerhouse businessman in his fifties—grey hair, fit, and athletic from the sports he practices daily. I know this from gossip magazines, which have sadly been my closest contact with him for years. My brother, however, was a weekly headline. Osman is blonde with voluminous hair and emerald-green eyes designed to melt hearts. He's muscular, shallow, arrogant, a manipulator, and a serial womanizer. I recently discovered he's engaged. I feel sorry for the poor, delusional woman; my brother is only faithful to one thing in his life: money.
They live in the historic Afif Pasha Mansion, a six-story landmark and one of the most expensive homes in Istanbul.
"You grew up here?" Serkan asks, his eyes scanning the architecture.
"I thought we agreed: no questions. Or does that only apply to me?"
"I'm merely trying to understand you. You're a constant box of surprises."
"You already know where I live. That's enough."
I hop off the motorcycle and face him. He's adjusting his suit, clearly annoyed by the wind-swept journey on the back of my bike. "I don't want you to 'understand' me, Serkan. I want you out of my life."
Serkan meets my gaze, dead serious. "The feeling is mutual, madam. Well, shall we, Aşkım?" He laces his fingers through mine, squeezing firmly. I look up and see my brother, Osman.
"Hello, little sister. It's been too long."
"Not long enough," I retort. Serkan looks confused as I trade barbs with my brother.
"Well, I'd like to introduce you to my fiancée—" Before Osman can finish, Serkan's voice goes cold.
"Hello, Selim."
I freeze. Selim? The blonde woman who looked at me with such contempt in the office is the ex Serkan wants back... and she's my brother's fiancée? Allah, Allah, I'm living in a nightmare that feels months long, but it's only been days. Osman is laughing at the absurdity of it all.
"So, you're engaged to my sister and the ex-boyfriend of my fiancée?" Osman covers his face with his hands before grinning. "This night couldn't get any better. Come in, please."
"Merhaba." My father is sitting on the sofa. He stands as we enter, but stops short. "What is he doing here? I told you to stay away from him."
"Merhaba." Serkan extends his hand. My father shakes it with extreme reluctance.
"Look, Bolat Bey, I don't mean to be rude, but I do not approve of this relationship. This was supposed to be a business partnership. Dating my daughter is a total lack of respect."
"I believe the only person who needs to approve of anything is me," I intervene.
"But daughter, two weeks ago you said Serkan was a spoiled, arrogant brat." My father looks at me pointedly. Serkan glances at me as if we've just been caught in our own trap. Osman is chuckling in the background, and Selim looks lost.
"That was based on the magazines," I say, tightening my grip on Serkan's hand. "In reality, he is romantic, attentive, and spontaneous—even for a robot." Serkan smiles, though he doesn't meet my eyes.
"Serkan? Spontaneous?" Selim scoffs. "That's a new one."
"Perhaps he just wasn't with someone who challenged him to be that way," I fire back at her. She's ready to snap, but Osman cuts through the tension.
"The whole family reunited after all these years!"
"Shut up, Osman," my father and I say in perfect unison. We glare at each other.
"I'm not staying," I announce, crossing my arms. "I only came to introduce my fiancé and tell you that the partnership with Sanat will be handled through me—but from today on, I'm working for Serkan."
"WHAT? No! I forbid it!" my father roars.
"Is little sister afraid of a little competition?" Osman goads me, sliding an arm around my shoulder. I shove him off.
"No, Osman. We both know who has the competence to win, and we both know who would lie, cheat, and steal for the one thing you love: power. Enjoy it. Because I'm done. Never contact me again."
I grab Serkan's hand and pull him out of the mansion. Behind us, I hear my father shouting and the sound of a glass shattering against the wall as Osman throws it. I wanted to leave, but now that I'm out, my heart is hammering against my ribs. I can't breathe. I try to start the bike, but my hands are shaking so hard I can't even get the key into the ignition.
"Hande. Hande!" Serkan tries to pull me around to face him. I resist because I know if I look at him, the tears will win. He pulls firmer, and for a split second, I almost find my center, but then the panic rushes back.
"What?!" I snap at him.
"What was that back there?" He's genuinely confused.
"I... I..." I struggle for words. How do you summarize a lifetime of trauma to a stranger you're supposed to hate? I look away, my eyes heavy with unshed water.
"Hey. Calm down. Don't cry. It's over," Serkan says softly, and then—he pulls me into an embrace. "You can talk when you're ready."
My heart continues to race, but now it's because of how close I am to him. Suddenly, his watch begins to beep incessantly.
"What is that?" I pull back, confused. Serkan looks at his watch, clears his throat, and straightens his posture.
"With all the chaos, the fighting... my adrenaline spiked. My heart rate is... elevated."
I cross my arms, hugging myself to try and mimic the comfort I felt in his arms—even if I'd never admit that for a moment, the Robot brought me peace.
"I'm sorry for ruining your night."
"It was an interesting night, I'll admit. Look... I can try to cook something at my place, if you're interested."
"You look like someone who only eats 'health food'," I say, eyeing him suspiciously.
"Guilty as charged."
"Fine. Whatever."
"Besides, you can meet my mother. Who knows? Maybe you'll pick a fight with her too," he smirks.
"So, robots can tell jokes," I smile.
Serkan prepares a salad and pasta with sauce for me. He eats something green that looks far too sophisticated for my liking, but I'm too tired to ask. He opens a bottle of wine and puts a jazz record on the turntable. I'm seeing a different side of Serkan Bolat—his world, his tastes. Minute by minute, his presence is shifting from 'insufferable' to 'tolerable'.
And though I'd die before saying it out loud... that hug was exactly what I needed.