55. Chapter 50
Endless Waves
Evin
S he sat at the beachside café, her fingers absentmindedly stirring the foam of her now-cold hot chocolate.
The week had flown by, yet every day had felt endless to her.
Most of her time was spent in training, immersing herself in the precise movements, the rhythm of the music, the burn in her muscles.
It was her escape—a place where she could shut off her thoughts for a while.
But the final lifts and turns still weren’t perfect, frustrating her as much as they fueled her determination.
Even the most exhausting hours in the ballet studio couldn’t stop her mind from drifting back to the words left unsaid, the ones still hanging in the air.
Sergej had become a fading shadow. A shadow that still followed her, but at least a shadow.
Because over time, she had come to understand that wounds didn’t just heal.
At best, they faded—like scars that told their own silent, indelible story.
Maybe she would never fully heal, but she had learned to take control of her memories.
A small victory, but one that helped her keep mo ving forward.
On Friday evening, she found herself sitting in a small café by the beach.
The sound of the waves in the background was calming, yet her thoughts refused to quiet down.
She had hoped to escape for a little while, but the moment she looked up and saw Milka standing in front of her, she knew that wouldn’t happen
"Hey," Milka said, tilting her head. "Got room for the traitor of the year?"
Evin leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. "Depends. Are you planning to betray me again, or was that a one-time thing?"
Milka let out a dramatic sigh, dropping her bag onto the table. "One-time thing. A limited edition mistake. Never to be restocked."
A pause. Evin didn't laugh.
Milka tapped her fingers against the table, glancing at Evin’s untouched drink. "I know you’re mad. I would be too. But you can’t ignore me forever."
"Watch me."
Milka huffed. "Ev, come on. You passed out. That’s not—normal. What was I supposed to do? Just pretend like nothing happened?"
Evin’s jaw tightened. "You were supposed to let me handle it."
"And what if you didn’t?" Milka countered, leaning in. "What if you kept burying it, like you always do?"
Evin’s fingers curled around the edge of her cup. "That’s not your call to make."
Milka exhaled, rubbing her temples. "It is!" Her voice softened. "It is, okay? But I panicked. I saw you like that, and I—I didn’t know what else to do."
Evin turned her head away, her throat tightening.
"You would've done the same," Milka said, quieter now. "Tell me I’m wrong."
Evin wanted to. But she couldn’t.
Instead, she picked up her spoon and stirred the drink she had no intention of drinking.
Milka sat back, watching her. "Look, I’m not asking you to forgive me right now. I just don’t want this to be the thing that breaks us."
Evin inhaled slowly. The anger hadn’t fully left her, but beneath it was something else—something raw and tangled.
"You’re impossible."
A flicker of a smile crossed Milka’s face. "Impossibly loyal."
Evin rolled her eyes. "And dramatic."
Milka held up her hands. "No, that’s your specialty."
For the first time in days, Evin let out a real laugh. Small, quiet—but real. She stared at the rough sea. The café’s gentle hum of conversations surrounded her. But her mind was already slipping back to the chaos of the charity event.
Sergej.
Bas.
The mess.
Bas. His voice. His hands. That look.
Bas. Bas. Bas.
"Okay, I’ve officially secured the title of the most annoying friend in the world, but now talk to me," Milka started, leaning forward. "What’s the situation with you and Bas? It’s been a week… something must have happened, right?"
Evin barely shrugged. "There is no situation. He ditched me on Valentine’s Day, sent me a half-assed apology, and that was it." Her voice was calm, but Milka knew her too well—she could hear the slight trace of disappointment underneath.
"What?" Milka raised her eyebrows. "After everything that happened? I mean, he nearly fought Sergej to death. And all of that… because of you."
"Not everything is about me," Evin muttered, staring into her cup. "He was angry. Sergej provoked him. It was probably more about his ego."
"Oh, come on." Milka crossed her arms. "He wanted to destroy that guy. And it definitely wasn’t because Sergej served him a bad sandwich. You were the reason, Evin. And I think you know that."
Evin lifted her gaze, meeting Milka’s eyes, her own heavy with unspoken thoughts. Was she the reason? Why was it so hard to believe that? "And what does that change? He threw himself into a fight I never asked for. I don’t want heroes. I just wanted it to stop."
Milka leaned back, studying her carefully. "Maybe he doesn’t want to be a hero. Maybe he just wants to be there for you—because you matter to him."
"And yet, he hasn’t called, hasn’t texted, hasn’t met up with me," Evin snapped, her frustration spilling over. "What does that tell you? That it scared him off. That he did it out of pity. I’m broken. He doesn’t want something damaged."
Milka shook her head. "Or maybe he’s giving you space. Maybe he doesn’t want to push, because he knows that’s not what you want. Evin, he knows you. And honestly? If you want him to do something, sometimes you have to show him. You’re not exactly the easiest person when it comes to emotions."
"Wow. Thanks for the compliment," Evin said dryly, taking a sip of her now-lukewarm cocoa.
"No problem," Milka shot back with a small smirk. "But seriously—what do you want? For him to reach out and talk about everything? Or for things to stay exactly as they are?"
Evin stayed silent, her fingers played the rim of her cup. "Honestly, I have no idea. I just… I don’t want him to see me differently. Not the way I sometimes see myself."
Milka nodded slowly. "Oh, babe. I get that. But maybe you should give him the chance to show you that he doesn’t see you that way.
That he sees you for who you really are—strong, stubborn, and yeah, maybe a little annoying.
But that’s exactly what he likes about you.
Do you really think he threw himself into that fight without knowing who you are? "
Evin stared into her cup, Milka’s words echoing in her mind. Her eyes grew glassy. She knew Milka was right, but the fear of disappointment—his or her own—held her back.
"He always knew," Evin murmured finally, barely above a whisper. "And maybe that’s the problem. Maybe he saw just how broken I really am."
Milka reached for her hand, her voice softening. "Or maybe he saw how strong you really are. But you’ll never find out unless you talk to him. And I mean really talk. Not that half-assed avoidance thing you do."
Evin let out a quiet scoff, but a small smile tugged at the corner of her lips. "You’re such a pain in the ass."
"Thank you! Exactly what you need right now. That’s why I’m here," Milka said, raising her cup. "So? Are you going to text him?"
Evin took a deep breath, still fidgeting with her spoon. "Maybe. But not now."
Milka nodded, as if accepting the answer. "Alright. Just don’t wait too long, okay? Some things are worth sorting out before they get even messier."
Evin smiled faintly, meeting Milka’s gaze. "Sometimes you’re way too smart for your own good."
"Thanks, I know. But someone’s gotta look out for you, right?" Milka winked before taking a big sip of her coffee.
Evin couldn’t help but chuckle softly, and for a moment, she felt just a little lighter. But then her expression turned more serious again. Her eyes drifted toward the street, where life kept moving forward, no matter how stuck she felt inside her own mind.
"Milka?"
"Yeah?"
"What would you do if you had to tell someone something important, but you were scared they’d see you differently afterward?"
Milka held her gaze for a moment before answering.
"I’d say it. And if they saw me differently afterward, then they were never worth it in the first place.
But, Evin… I don’t think Bas is that kind of person.
Not anymore. I think he already sees you exactly as you are.
Maybe even better than you see yourself. "
Evin nodded slowly, but the heaviness in her chest remained. "I’m just afraid of making everything worse."
"I get that," Milka said quietly. "But you can’t control everything. And honestly? It’s up to you whether you run or not."
Evin looked at her, and for a moment, there was a flicker of hope in her eyes. "I think Bas is just waiting for me to let him in."
In the midst of the chaos that finally felt a little like normality, she thought:
Maybe Milka was right. Maybe she would do it. Maybe.
__________
"You have to admit," Milka began, her mouth full, holding a piece of churro in one hand, "there are worse places to clear your head." She gestured dramatically toward the string lights stretching between the shops and cafés like tiny stars.
Evin shrugged, her hands buried deep in her pockets. Couples laughed, children ran around, yet everything felt like a world she was only allowed to observe from a distance.
"Nice," she murmured finally.
"Just 'nice'?" Milka scoffed, shoving the bag of churros into Evin's hands. "That is so typical. Don't tell me you're still looking for drama to feel alive."
Evin took a mechanical bite, tasting the sweet cinnamon and sugar on her tongue, but the warmth didn’t reach her.
Drama? It wasn’t the drama she was searching for.
It was the quiet she couldn't seem to find.
Her thoughts were like a storm that never settled, endlessly bouncing from Bas to Sergej, from training to the unspoken words that followed her everywhere.
"Ha ha," she laughed dryly. Her voice was quiet, more to herself than to Milka. "It's just… hard. My mind won’t shut up."