His voice sliced through the quiet forest, bouncing off the trees.

Birds shot out from the branches overhead, scattering like dark shadows. But there was no answer. He dashed barefoot into the clearing, looking around.

No footprints anywhere. No broken twigs. Everything looked untouched.

She was way too good at sneaking around, it was almost scary.

"Zeynep!" he yelled again, his voice shaking with worry. "Zeynep!"

Then, without thinking twice, he took off running. He dashed down the path, then darted off it, pushing deeper into the woods where most people wouldn’t dare go at night or even in the early morning light.

His breath came out in quick puffs, visible in the chilly morning air. His heart raced painfully against his ribs. His mind was spinning. He looked in every direction, turning in frantic circles. Nothing. Not a hint of her. He rubbed the back of his neck, his fingers trembling with anxiety.

"Why..." he whispered, voice shaky, "why did you do that? whyyy???"

His throat felt tight. It had been ages since he felt this way; it was the first time in a long while that his heart felt so heavy, and he couldn’t figure out why.

He was just thinking about her; she didn’t even grab any food. Or water. Or anything to keep warm.

She wasn’t ready, so she just took off.

She dashed out before he could really see her eyes, before he had the chance to ask her anything, and definitely before he could do anything to stop her. She felt this rush to get away, leaving him standing there, unsure of what to do next.

And suddenly, Leo’s words hit him like a punch:

’She’ll disappear if she thinks she’s putting you in danger.’

The realization crashed over him, mixing with his growing panic.

He leaned against a tree, palm flat against the rough bark, head hanging as he fought the ache in his chest.

"Zeynep..." he murmured, barely above a whisper, "you didn’t have to do this."

The forest only replied with the faint creaking of branches, offering no comfort at all.

A chilly breeze rushed past him, colder than the morning air and sharper than the first light of dawn.

She was really gone. Gone for good. But then...

His breathing evened out. His eyes narrowed, the panic fading away, turning into something sharper... something colder.

Determination. A quiet but fierce kind.

He straightened up. When he spoke next, it wasn’t a shout. It was a promise.

"I’ll find you," he said, his voice steady.

Confident. Not desperate. Not angry. Just sure of himself.

"I’ll find you, Zeynep. No matter how far you run."

Meanwhile, deep in the forest, Zeynep walked through the cold morning fog, wrapping her jacket tightly around herself. Her breaths were uneven, and everything was feeling heavy with guilt. She didn’t dare look back. Because if she did, she knew she’d fall apart.

But all of a sudden, for some reason she couldn’t explain, her steps slowed. A tightness gripped her chest painfully.

A strange feeling spread from her ribs to her throat, as if someone far behind her had called her name. Like someone was hurting because of her.

She shut her eyes, tears streaming down her face, and whispered into the fog, "I’m sorry." She had no idea why she said it or who she was saying it to. But that ache... it made one thing clear: Zayden would come for her. And part of her... part of her hoped he wouldn’t. Because she knew that if he found her, he’d be stepping into the same darkness she was trying to run from.

******

Zayden found himself back in the cabin, standing in front of the bathroom mirror. His hands rested on the cool washbasin while water dripped from the faucet, making a soft splatter that was oddly soothing. He stared at his reflection and noticed his red eyes, whether from anger or the deep fear of losing her, he wasn’t quite sure. The tension hung in the air, just like the heavy look on his face as he tried to make sense of the chaos in his mind.

His thoughts were racing: Where did Zeynep go? Why did she run off? Was she scared of what he might say, or did she actually care enough to leave him for his own good? Feeling overwhelmed, he splashed some cold water on his face, hoping to wake himself up a bit. After shutting off the faucet, he stepped into the kitchen, where he felt a gnawing hunger but knew his main focus had to be figuring out what to do next. Staying in the cabin felt pointless now; he just wanted to get back to the city, dive back into his work, and start looking for her.

As he moved around the kitchen, he made breakfast for two, completely forgetting that she wasn’t there. It had only been three days since they were thrown together, and yet he had picked up on some of her habits. Or maybe, deep down, he was trying to avoid thinking about the weird feelings that were surfacing, feelings he didn’t quite understand.

He whipped up two omelets, poured coffee into two mugs, and set the table just like he had done for the last couple of days. Then, he went to the bedroom to call her for breakfast, but the sight that met him was jarring. The room was empty, and that realization hit him like a punch. He had totally spaced on the fact that she was gone, ending up with two breakfast plates, one for him and one for her, that would never be eaten.

Suddenly, his chest tightened with an ache he couldn’t shake off. Why was he feeling like this after she left? They weren’t even in a relationship; he barely knew her. Yet, he couldn’t figure out why he felt so lost without her. It was just a girl, right? But he had never experienced anything like this before. With her around, he felt a strange sense of peace, and now that she was gone, that feeling vanished, leaving him with an unfamiliar heartache. What was this feeling that had him questioning everything?