2 - The Missing Person

Manolya`s POV

Her flower-patterned dress was disheveled, her apron gone and her hair sticking out from her abaya was wild from the wind.. She shook in my arms as I pulled her close. “Ayla, we’ll find her,” I said, fighting the tears burning my eyes. “I promise.”

Ipek used to sometimes come with Ayla when we went grocery shopping together. Ipek was always kind, with a warm smile, and she always bought me ice cream.

I didn’t know her that well, but she was warm, kind-hearted, and all the family Ayla had left.

If she was family to Ayla, she was family to me too.

Ayla was the only one who’d ever filled even a small part of the hole Mom left. Her warmth, her care, even as hired staff she meant everything.

I would do anything for her.

Seeing Ayla upset like this made me sad. “Aziz, stay here and guard the place,” I called back.

He sat by the door, eyes locked on me, letting out a soft meow, like he was promising he’d keep watch.

Then I heard a car approaching and looked out the window.

It was Bengü, Dad’s work associate, gracefully stepping out of a black Audi.

She appeared at our door with a sleek, see-through umbrella in her hand to shield herself from the downpour.

I had seen her a few times before, very briefly. I always felt like the odd one around her—she was always so perfect and charming that it somehow made me feel a little insignificant.

She stopped short, her dark curls framing a femme fatale smirk, red lips and cat-eye makeup screaming fifties glamour.

She had been around a few times throughout the years, but my father usually met her at work and kept things private.

Bengü’s skirt was tight, blouse crisp with her expensive louboutins heel clicking on the floor. A real estate shark with an office next to Dad’s gallery, she carried herself like she owned every room.

She barely glanced at Ayla, like she was invisible, and that sparked a flicker of unease in my chest.

“Manolya?” Bengü said, her voice dripping with surprise, tinged with something sharp. “What are you doing here?”

I frowned, thrown off. “I… live here,” I said, my tone confused. Where else would I be?

Her smile tightened, lips curling in a way that didn’t reach her eyes. “Of course you do,” she said, her voice syrupy but edged with irritation. “I just thought you’d be… somewhere else today.”

I blinked, unsure why her words stung. “Oh, you mean the airport? You must have misunderstood the time if Dad said anything. I’m not leaving for the airport until Uncle gets here,” I said, guiding Ayla to the sofa.

“Is Emre home?” Bengü asked, her voice syrupy and sweet, lashes fluttering with a calculated tilt. “Your father wanted a ride to a client meeting. I’ve got an open house, and we were supposed to go together.”

I forced a smile, guiding Ayla to the sofa. “Yeah, he’s upstairs,” I said with my voice tight. “Probably overslept, you know how he is sometimes.”

Bengü’s eyes flicked over me, cold and assessing, like I was an obstacle in her way. “This house is so big for just one girl. Must be exhausting, running it all alone.”

I bristled, but kept my voice steady. “I’m fine,” I said, rubbing Ayla’s back. “Ayla needs me right now, she always helps me.”

Bengü’s laugh was loud and annoying. “Oh, Ayla,” she said, finally acknowledging her with a dismissive glance. “Always so dramatic. I’m sure Ipek’s just… off somewhere. You know how girls her age can be.”

Ayla stiffened, her hands trembling in mine. “My sister, Ipek….she is not like that,” Ayla whispered with her voice cracking. “She didn’t come home.”

Bengü tilted her head, her smile cold. “Well, that’s no reason to drag Manolya into it, is it?” she said, her eyes locking onto mine. “You’ve got enough to deal with, don’t you? Your father with his business, this big house… It’s a lot for someone so young.”

Her words felt like a jab, but I didn’t know why. “I can handle it,” I said, my voice sharper than I meant.

“Of course you can,” Bengü purred, stepping closer, her heels clicking ominously. “But you shouldn’t have to. Your father and I… we’re taking care of things. Soon, you won’t need to worry about this place at all.”

I frowned, confused. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Bengü sighed, her smile returning, sharp as a blade. “What I mean,” she said, turning toward the stairs. “I’ll go upstairs and check on Emre. This house needs a stronger hand, to help, don’t you think?”

Aziz meowed from the doorway, his yellow eyes fixed on Bengü’s retreating figure. His tail flicked, a low growl rumbling in his throat. “What’s up with you?” I muttered, frowning at him.

He didn’t move, just kept staring, like he saw something I didn’t. I shook it off, my focus back on Ayla who nodded, tears spilling down her cheeks. “Thank you, Manolya,” she said, her voice barely audible.

I hugged her close, my heart aching. But in the back of my mind, Bengü’s voice echoed, sweet and smooth, like honey hiding something bitter. I didn’t know why it bothered me, but it did.

Then before I knew it Bengü and my father came running down the stairs.

“Dad, Ipek is missing. Ayla’s here early, and there’s some kind of black slime outside my window on the second floor. Do you know what could have gotten smeared there?”

My father, Emre, was already halfway to the door, Bengü’s arm looped tightly around his. She fussed over him, smoothing the collar of his shirt and helping him tie his navy tie, her red nails glinting against the fabric.

“I don’t have time right now, Manolya,” he said, his voice clipped as Bengü straightened his jacket. “Ayla, call me later and brief me. I’m late for an important client meeting.”

The door slammed behind them before I could answer. The sound echoed through the marble hall, heavy and final. I stood there for a moment, staring at the empty space where they had been. It hit me then that in this house, important never meant people.

I felt invisible again.