It took Rey two full months to finish the manuscript for his book.
Two months filled with sleepless nights, nightmares, and pages torn apart because they were too painful to write.
But finally, on a bright and quiet morning, Rey pressed "Send" and submitted the final draft to the publisher.
The title remained the same:
> "Aurel: The Woman Who Never Truly Left"
The book wasn't a memoir, nor a romance novel.
It was a raw, bleeding confession from someone who once loved without having, and was left without being hated.
---
Weeks passed.
Unexpectedly, the book exploded on the market.
He never advertised it. Never appeared on podcasts. Never showed his face.
But his words spread like rain falling in the middle of a long drought.
> "This book made me cry from the first chapter."
"I saw my past self on every page."
"'R', whoever you are… you saved my life."
Rey read the comments from a distance.
But he never replied. Never appeared. Never revealed his real name.
He wasn't hungry for applause.
He only wanted to live quietly—even if the world now knew his story.
---
Until one gray afternoon, the door to the shelter was knocked.
Rey opened it, and in front of him stood a young woman—early twenties, braided hair, swollen eyes.
In her hands, she clutched Rey's book tightly.
"A–are you R?" she asked, voice trembling.
Rey didn't answer right away. He just looked deeply at her.
And in her eyes, he saw a reflection of his younger self, years ago.
"I'm a reader," the girl continued. "I… I didn't come here for an autograph."
Rey nodded gently. "Then what did you come for?"
She took a deep breath, then said with a voice that shook:
> "I just wanted to say… I know what it feels like to lose someone without having anyone to blame."
"I also waited for someone who never came back."
"And after reading your book… I'm not angry anymore."
"Because I understand now: the strongest kind of love isn't the one that ends together,
but the one that lets us grow—even when broken."
---
Rey was silent.
And for the first time since the book was published, he cried in front of someone else.
He didn't know the girl's name.
He didn't know who had hurt her.
But he knew one thing:
> "If my writing could save even one person, then every wound I put on the page was worth it."
---
Before leaving, the girl slipped a small note between the final pages of his book:
> "I hope you find happiness—even if it's not with the one you once prayed for."
---
That night, Rey sat at his small desk.
Dim light. Warm coffee.
And a second book still waiting to be born.
He opened the first page and began typing slowly:
> "This love story doesn't have a happy ending.
But that doesn't mean it isn't worth remembering.
Because sometimes, the person who loved us the most… is the one who never stayed in our life."
---
Meanwhile, far across the city…
Aurel was feeding Reyhan dinner.
Damar turned on the TV, and an ad for Rey's book suddenly appeared.
Aurel said nothing. She wasn't surprised.
Her heart no longer raced.
Because she knew—this time, Rey was truly okay.
And that was enough.
She touched her chest gently, then whispered:
> "Live well, Rey. Keep writing…
Because the world needs the voices of those who once broke,
but never gave up."