The right person, the wrong time, the right script, the wrong line. The right poem, the wrong rhyme. And a piece of you that was never mine."
Unknown
I had drifted off to sleep when I felt a light tap on my arm.
I opened my eyes, and there he was, the man Has been making my heart beat non-stop, impeccably dressed in a white Oxford shirt and black dress pants. I glanced at the wall clock and saw that it was almost midnight, way too late for him to look as perfect as he did.
"Come with me," he said, stretching out his arm, a smile on his face.
I sat up, confused, wondering what he was up to.
Taking his arm, I got out of bed and allowed him to lead me out of the room and down the corridor, thankful I was clothed in one of my better nightgowns.
Once out of the building, he opened the gate that led to the old doctors' quarters his father had called home in the latter years of his life after his beloved wife had died, and all his children had moved away from home.
The old structure had been demolished, and there were plans to eventually convert it to an extension of the hospital, but in the meantime, it just remained there.
But there was nothing fallow about the sight that I beheld that night.
There must have been at least a hundred tealight candles scattered all over the grounds, in the middle of which was spread a small blanket, with a small basket next to it.
"Forgive me, but I could only manage a small picnic. I wanted it to be a candlelit dinner, but the only tables I could find inside were massive. Who knew we didn't have any portable tables?" he chuckled.
"What's all this?" I asked, confused.
He took my hands in his. "Out here, Zeynep, I'm not your doctor, and you are not my patient," he said. "I'm just a guy trying to impress a woman he loves."
I felt suddenly lightheaded, almost like I was being lifted off the ground by helium balloons. Not waiting for me to say a word, he led me to the blanket where I sat as he unpacked some strange looking snacks.
"These look a mess, right?" he asked, holding up a dodgy cupcake. "It was all I could come up with at such short notice."
I could only laugh, not believing this was any more than a beautiful dream. It had to be. I would wake up in the morning to realise that my heart had made the whole thing up.
"Before I forget," he said, connecting his phone to a pair of small speakers.
When Whitney Houston came on, I shut my eyes and smiled. Yes, it was definitely a dream. This kind of thing didn't happen to me. This kind of inexplicable joy was not what people like me got or deserved.
"So…where were we?" he said, leaning in.
Then boom.
The kiss was everything I had ever imagined it would be…and so much more. It was soft and tender, but also yearning.
I knew that I would never be able to get enough of him.
Except the minister got to him first.
In a panic, I tried to pull away. "We can't do this . He'll hurt you-"
But he held me closer. "Nobody is going to hurt me, and more importantly, nobody is going to hurt you," he said. "All that is over, Zeynep. That part of your life is over. You're not going back to that place."
I looked at him, every ounce of my being wanting nothing but to believe him.
"We're going to get you out of this town," he continued. "I haven't thought through it yet, but that's what has to happen."
"And what then?" I asked, wanting to hear from his lips that he had plans not only for me to leave, but for us to be together…forever.
He reclaimed my lips in an even deeper kiss, answering me without words.
With Whitney Huston playing on repeat, we lay there, surrounded by candles and, underneath the moonlit sky, kissing and talking into the night.
We talked about everything imaginable; his childhood, my childhood, his relationship with his siblings, my precarious one with the only one I still had, his marriage, my love affairs with Jason and even Yusuf…and our dreams for the future.
Before we knew it, dawn soon started to break.
We didn't need any further prompting to know it was time to end our rendezvous. The very last thing we needed was for anyone to find us out there. He helped me up, and we giggled like children as we put out the tealight candles, one by one.
In all my life, I had never been so happy, so over-loved, so overjoyed. I was living out the lyrics of our love song.
"We'll talk some more tomorrow," Jacobi said when we were back in my room. "Or rather, later today. Can you believe it's almost 6am?" He kissed me on the bridge of my nose. "We'll figure all of this out, don't you worry."
I was all smiles long after he'd left, my heart, body, and soul singing.
I lay on the bed, but I knew there would be no sleep for me. How could I sleep and run the risk of waking up to find out that none of it had happened? That it had all been a dream?
But as morning properly broke, I eventually did drift off to sleep, and even in my dream, I was deliriously happy.
My captivity was over. I was finally free.
Until I wasn't.
I was awoken by a light tap on my foot. I had a smile as I opened my eyes, convinced it was Jacobi. But it wasn't.
It was Helen.
"Hello Zeynep, good news," she declared, her eyes dancing. "Your husband is back. He has come to pick you up."
The smile on my face took flight, and my heart lurched.
The minister was back.