CHAPTER 1: THE PHOTO THAT STARTED IT ALL
The café on the corner of Alder Street always smelled like roasted coffee beans and rain.
Liora claimed it was the best place in the city to watch people live their small, ordinary lives. Evren claimed she only liked it because the lighting was good for photographs.
Today, as usual, she proved him right.
"Don't move," she said suddenly.
Evren sighed, already knowing what was coming.
"Liora."
"Don't. Move."
She lifted her Polaroid camera, one eye squinting as she focused on him across the small wooden table.
Evren leaned back in his chair, arms crossed.
"You've taken, what, twelve pictures today already?"
"Thirteen," she corrected.
Click.
The camera whirred softly as the photo slid out.
Liora grabbed it immediately, waving it in the air with excitement like a kid who had just discovered magic.
Evren watched her with the same quiet expression he always wore when she did this — half amused, half resigned.
"You're documenting my suffering."
"I'm documenting memories," she said.
"That sounds like something a future criminal would say."
She ignored him.
The image slowly began appearing on the white square film.
Evren leaned slightly forward.
"What does it look like?"
She tilted the photo away from him dramatically.
"No peeking."
"You literally just took a picture of me sitting here drinking coffee."
"Exactly," she said proudly.
Evren rubbed his temple.
"You are unbelievable."
Liora laughed, the sound bright and effortless, the kind of laugh that made nearby people glance over without realizing why.
Evren didn't look away from her.
He rarely did.
The late afternoon sun filtered through the café windows, lighting up the messy strands of her hair as she examined the photo carefully.
After a moment, she grabbed a pen from her bag and scribbled something on the white border.
Evren raised an eyebrow.
"What did you write this time?"
She slid the photo across the table toward him.
On the bottom of the Polaroid were the words:
"Evren pretending he hates being photographed."
Evren stared at it for a moment.
Then he slipped the photo quietly into his jacket pocket.
Liora blinked.
"Hey. That one was for my collection."
"You have like a hundred."
"Ninety-three," she corrected automatically.
Evren smirked slightly.
"Then you won't miss one."
Liora narrowed her eyes at him.
"You're stealing my art."
"I'm preserving history."
"You're impossible."
"And yet," he said calmly, taking a sip of his coffee, "you keep inviting me out."
She opened her mouth to respond, then paused.
"…That's actually a fair point."
For a moment they sat in comfortable silence.
Outside, the street buzzed with the usual afternoon chaos — cars passing, people rushing somewhere, the faint sound of distant music from a street performer.
Liora rested her chin on her hand, watching the world through the window.
"Do you ever think about how many moments people forget?" she said suddenly.
Evren glanced at her.
"What do you mean?"
She gestured toward the street.
"Like that guy walking his dog. Or those kids arguing over ice cream."
He followed her gaze.
"Okay."
"In ten years," she continued, "they probably won't even remember today."
Evren shrugged.
"That's normal."
Liora shook her head.
"That's why photos are important."
She tapped the camera on the table.
"They prove a moment existed."
Evren studied her for a second.
Then he said quietly,
"You don't need a camera to prove something was real."
She tilted her head.
"Then how do you prove it?"
Evren looked away toward the window.
"…You just remember."
Liora smiled slightly.
"That sounds very poetic for someone who complains about my photography."
"Don't push it."
She laughed again.
A small silence settled between them, comfortable and familiar.
The kind of silence that only exists between people who have known each other for years.
Liora suddenly grabbed her camera again.
Evren groaned.
"Not again."
"Last one, I promise."
"That's what you said four photos ago."
She stood up, walking around the table.
"Sit properly."
"I am sitting properly."
"You look like a grumpy cat."
"Maybe because someone keeps shoving a camera in my face."
Liora leaned slightly closer, adjusting the angle.
For a second, Evren noticed something.
Her eyes.
They were focused on the camera lens, completely unaware of how close she was standing.
He swallowed quietly.
Click.
The Polaroid slid out again.
"Perfect," she said.
Evren rubbed his face.
"I'm starting to think you just enjoy annoying me."
"Obviously."
She waved the photo again as it developed.
Then she suddenly paused.
"What?" Evren asked.
She turned the photo toward him.
This time the picture showed both of them — Evren sitting in his chair and Liora half-leaning toward the camera.
Neither of them had noticed the café mirror behind them reflecting the scene.
Evren stared at the image.
Liora grinned.
"Oh my god, this one's actually cute."
Evren coughed lightly.
"Don't say that."
"I'm keeping this one forever."
She carefully slipped it into the small Polaroid box she carried in her bag.
Evren watched the box disappear into the bag.
His expression softened slightly.
Outside, the sky had begun turning orange as the sun dipped lower.
"Hey," Liora said suddenly.
Evren looked up.
"Do you think people can fall in love online?"
He frowned slightly.
"That's random."
"I saw a post about it yesterday."
Evren leaned back in his chair.
"Maybe."
"That's not a real answer."
He shrugged.
"It's easier to lie online."
Liora raised an eyebrow.
"You're so pessimistic."
Evren looked at her quietly.
"No," he said.
"I just think real things are harder to fake."
Liora considered that for a moment.
Then she smiled lightly.
"You think too much."
"Someone has to."
They stood up a few minutes later, leaving the café as the evening lights began flickering on across the street.
The air outside was cooler now.
Liora walked ahead, spinning her camera strap around her wrist.
Evren followed a step behind, hands in his pockets.
He watched her for a moment.
Then looked away before she could turn around.
Neither of them noticed the moment passing.
Some moments feel ordinary when they happen.
But later, they become the ones you remember the most.
And sometimes…
they are the beginning of a story you never expected to live.