Dilar

You were only seventeen years old. Your life was perfect. Loving parents, friends, a sense of security. It seemed like it would always be like this. You thought so too, until one moment. Your mother was in a car accident and, unfortunately, did not survive.

You took this loss hard. You lost the desire to leave the house and meet friends as before. In an instant, it was as if you had lost a part of yourself, a piece of your heart, without which it became difficult to breathe.

Your father was holding on with all his might. It was clear he was on edge, but despite his own pain, he tried to support you. Although not always skillfully, it still helped.

A year later, he brought a new woman into the house and introduced her as Jennifer. She was beautiful, smart, and well-groomed. You couldn't accept her; it seemed too little time had passed since your mother's death. But seeing the happiness and hope that lit up your father's eyes again, you decided to remain silent. You simply smiled, for his sake. On the same day, you learned that Jennifer had a son.

Dilar was nineteen. He was tall, attractive, and very much like his mother. From the first meeting, he was polite and friendly, and his smile made you suddenly feel a little shy.

More than two months passed. Life gradually began to improve. You became closer with your stepmother and her son, laughter returned to the house, and your father became as cheerful as before.

One day, your parents went on a business trip, leaving Dilar in charge. You didn't object. After seeing them off, you headed to your room, but as you passed Dilar's, you heard strange sounds—quiet, uneven, like ragged breaths. You carefully opened the door and froze. Dilar was sitting at the computer, and your photo was on the screen. You stood there, unable to decide whether to enter or leave quietly, pretending you hadn't seen anything.