As he reached the water, he pulled his phone from his pocket. He looked at her name in his contacts—the last thread connecting him to the person who "wasted" him.
“Insan biraz sevmez mi?” the voice pleaded through the speakers. insan_biraz_sevmez_mi_remix_bir_vedanla_harcadi...
He started walking toward the Bosphorus, the song still humming in his head. He realized he wasn't just mourning her; he was mourning the version of himself that believed love was permanent. He had given her everything, and she had treated his heart like a disposable thing. As he reached the water, he pulled his phone from his pocket