He remembered the day she left. She had said that some people are like songs—they stay with you even when the music stops. Mert had spent years trying to forget the melody of her laughter, but as Koray’s soulful voice sang about a heart finding its way back home, the door creaked open.

A woman stepped in, shaking a wet umbrella. She looked around, her eyes landing on the corner table. The lyrics “Hoş geldin, gönlüme huzur geldin” (Welcome, you brought peace to my heart) seemed to hang in the air between them.

"I was just waiting for the right song to bring you back," Mert replied, a small smile finally breaking through.

The rain in Istanbul didn’t just fall; it orchestrated a reunion. Mert sat at the same corner table of the tea house where he had last seen Selin five years ago. The radio in the background crackled, and then the first notes of filled the small, steamed-up room.

Selin didn’t say a word at first. She just walked over and sat in the empty chair across from him. The steam from his tea rose like a curtain finally being lifted.

"You're still here," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the accordion in the song.