"Is it?" he asked, his voice a jagged edge. "Because every time I breathe, I hear the sound of something snapping inside. This life... it's a graveyard of broken toasts."
He remembered the first time they danced to this song. He had stepped on her toes, making some absurd joke about how his feet were actually secret agents trying to sabotage the evening. She had laughed, that bright, bell-like sound that made the darkness of the Mafia world he inhabited feel like a distant bad dream. poyraz_karayelden_kac_kadeh_kirildi_poyraz_kara...
He didn't put the glass down. He simply looked into the amber liquid, took a breath, and prepared for the next storm. Because as long as the music played and Ayşegül was in the room, Poyraz Karayel would keep standing—broken, perhaps, but never finished. "Is it