The Story of Figen, Arda, and Hera
Three People at an Impasse and a Life Rebuilt
Let me tell you the story of Figen, Arda, and Hera.
But there is something we need to understand from the beginning.
There is no single villain in this story.
Nor is there anyone entirely innocent.
There are mistakes.
There is neglect.
There is a man who gives in to his desires.
There is a woman who fails to see the problems in her marriage for years.
There is a young woman who becomes increasingly dependent on a relationship she knows is wrong.
There is anger.
There is jealousy.
There is desire.
There is loneliness.
There is helplessness.
There are nights when all three become too exhausted to bear the weight of their own lives.
And in the middle of it all, there are children watching, without saying a word, to see what their mother and father will do.
But the story does not end here.
Because sometimes, when a person hits rock bottom, one of two things happens.
They either sink even lower…
Or they look up for the first time.
THE BEGINNING
Figen and Arda had married for love.
In fact, they were not even a couple at first.
They were friends.
They would talk for hours.
Sometimes Arda would spend hours on the phone with Figen.
He would hang up…
Then call again five minutes later.
Figen would laugh.
“What happened?”
Arda would say:
“I forgot to tell you something.”
“What?”
He had not actually forgotten anything.
He just wanted to hear her voice again.
Over time, friendship turned into longing.
Longing into love…
Love into a relationship…
And finally, marriage.
Their early years were good.
They did not have much money.
They lived in a small house.
Some of the furniture had been bought in installments.
The plates did not match.
But they were happy.
Arda was just starting out in business.
Some evenings, he would come home and collapse onto the sofa.
“Figen…”
“Yes?”
“I don’t think it’s going to work.”
“What?”
“The business.”
Figen would sit beside him.
“There are debts. No money. No customers. Sometimes I want to give up.”
Figen would take his hand.
“Hard work doesn’t go to waste, Arda.”
Arda would ask:
“What if it does?”
Figen would say:
“As long as we stay true to what is right.”
In those years, Arda admired Figen’s strength.
Because Figen really was strong.
FIGEN’S STRENGTH
Figen had worked as a senior executive.
She had managed people.
Made decisions.
She was used to having the final word in meetings.
She liked doing research.
She read a great deal.
She rarely said:
“I don’t know.”
If she did not know something, she would learn.
Arda, meanwhile, was more often in the position of an employee at the time.
Someone would give him a task, and Arda would carry it out.
Figen was the one managing others.
At first, Arda had been impressed by this.
“What a strong woman,” he would think.
“How intelligent.”
But over time, the language Figen used at work began to find its way into their home.
“Arda, do this.”
“Arda, bring me that.”
“Take care of this first.”
“No, not like that.”
At first, Arda did not pay much attention.
Then it began to bother him.
One evening, he said:
“Figen, don’t speak to me as if you’re giving orders.”
Figen was surprised.
“What orders?”
“The way you speak.”
“What’s wrong with the way I speak?”
Arda said:
“I’m not one of your employees.”
Figen replied:
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
Arda fell silent.
Because, as far as Figen was concerned, there was no problem.
But as far as Arda was concerned, there was.
Because Figen read so much, she knew more than Arda about many things.
Sometimes, when Arda said something among friends, she would immediately correct him.
“No, Arda, that’s not how it is.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’ve got it wrong.”
Then she would explain the correct information in front of everyone.
At first, Arda would laugh.
“All right, Professor.”
But over time, that smile stopped being genuine.
One evening, in front of their friends, Figen said:
“Arda, you’re repeating hearsay again.”
There was a brief silence at the table.
Arda’s expression changed.
“Figen, enough.”
“What do you mean, enough? What you’re saying is wrong.”
Arda did not speak on the way home.
Figen asked:
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Something’s wrong.”
Looking at the steering wheel, Arda said:
“I don’t like you constantly correcting me in front of other people.”
Figen replied:
“What am I supposed to do if you’ve got it wrong?”
Arda said:
“There’s a way to tell the truth, too.”
Figen said:
“You’re too sensitive.”
Sometimes, this is how relationships fracture.
One person tries to say:
“I’m hurting.”
The other says:
“You shouldn’t be hurting.”
And the conversation ends.
But the wound does not.
THE CHILDREN ARRIVE
Then they had children.
Figen left her career.
She was no longer an executive.
But years of managing others had become part of her character.
The company was gone.
The meetings were gone.
The employees were gone.
But the need to control remained.
Now there was the house.
There were the children.
And there was Arda.
“Arda, pick up the children.”
“Arda, bring some milk.”
“Arda, don’t forget this.”
“Arda, do this first.”
One day, Arda could not take it anymore.
“Figen!”
“What?”
“Just once, ask me nicely.”
Figen became angry.
“There are a hundred things to do in this house. Am I supposed to dress up every sentence, too?”
Arda said:
“It’s not about dressing up a sentence.”
“What is it about, then?”
Arda said:
“You left the company, Figen.”
He paused.
“But you couldn’t stop being the manager.”
The sentence angered Figen.
But this was the feeling that had been building inside Arda for years.
As the children grew, Figen’s entire life began to revolve around them.
What they would eat…
What they would wear…
Their schools…
Their illnesses…
Their homework…
If one of the children said:
“Mom, I want meatballs,”
she would make meatballs.
If the other said:
“Pasta,”
there would be pasta.
One evening, Arda said:
“You haven’t made my favorite meal in such a long time.”
Figen replied:
“The children don’t eat it.”
Arda said:
“The children don’t, but I do.”
Figen replied:
“Am I supposed to cook two separate meals?”
Arda fell silent.
It was not really about the food.
It was about saying:
“Remember me, too.”
After a while, Arda began to think:
“Everyone’s wishes are known in this house.”
“Except mine.”
FIGEN LETS HERSELF GO
Over time, Figen also stopped taking care of herself.
And this was not temporary.
It had become a way of life.
She would tie her hair up carelessly.
She did not wear makeup.
She did not wear perfume.
Loose pajamas…
Loose tunics…
Baggy sweatpants…
Figen also loved eating.
She ate when she was stressed.
She ate when she was happy.
She ate when she was bored.
She ate with the children.
And after they went to sleep, she ate again.
Over time, she gained a considerable amount of weight.
It was particularly noticeable around her stomach.
Her old clothes no longer fit.
She stopped wearing clothes that fitted her and began wearing loose things that covered her body.
One day, she tried on one of her old dresses in front of the mirror.
The zipper would not close.
She pulled it again.
It still would not close.
Annoyed, she threw the dress onto the bed.
She put on something loose.
Looked in the mirror.
Then turned away.
Figen was aware of the change, too.
But over time, she had grown used to saying:
“Never mind.”
Arda, meanwhile, was a man who cared about appearance.
He would go to work in the morning.
Around him, he saw women who took care of their appearance.
Wearing makeup…
Their hair neatly styled…
Well dressed…
Women wearing perfume…
Some of them showed an interest in Arda, too.
“You look very stylish today.”
“That shirt really suits you.”
Arda enjoyed it.
Then he would come home in the evening.
Open the door.
And there was Figen.
In her pajamas…
Her hair untidy…
Having rushed around all day…
Sometimes sweaty…
Having gained a considerable amount of weight.
Arda began making comparisons.
The comparison was not fair.
Because he saw only the few hours for which the women outside had prepared themselves.
With Figen, he saw her entire life.
But people do not always think fairly when they are unhappy.
Arda would think:
“Why doesn’t my wife get ready for me anymore?”
Then a more painful thought came:
“My wife is no longer my lover.”
Figen was the mother of his children.
His life partner.
His closest friend.
Sometimes Arda would even say to himself:
“We’re like buddies now.”
They talked about the children.
They talked about the bills.
They talked about school.
But they did not say to each other:
“I’ve missed you.”
THIS TIME, FIGEN WAS THE ONE BEING REJECTED
The interesting thing was this:
It was not that Figen did not want to be intimate with Arda.
She did.
One night, she moved closer to him.
Placed her hand on his chest.
Arda pulled away.
“I’m very tired.”
Another night:
“I have to get up early tomorrow.”
Another night:
“I’m going to watch some television.”
After a while, Figen understood.
One night, she said:
“Arda.”
“Hmm?”
“You’re avoiding me.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You are.”
“I’m tired.”
“Every night?”
Arda fell silent.
Figen’s eyes filled with tears.
“Don’t you want me?”
Arda could not answer.
Figen looked at her stomach.
Then at Arda.
“Is it because I look like this?”
Arda remained silent.
And sometimes silence is the harshest answer that can be given.
Arda still loved Figen.
But his physical attraction to her had diminished.
This deepened the conflict inside him.
“I love my wife.”
But:
“I don’t desire her.”
And the attention from women outside their marriage touched that very emptiness.
ARDA’S DESIRE TO BE NEEDED
There was another issue.
Figen was very strong.
When a problem arose, she would say:
“I’ll take care of it.”
After a while, Arda began to hear this as:
“I don’t need you.”
Some women outside their marriage, however, would say:
“Could you help me?”
“What would you do?”
“I’m so glad I asked you.”
Arda felt needed.
He was admired.
He was desired.
He was needed.
And this felt very good to Arda’s ego.
Yet what he actually wanted was not for Figen to be weak.
What he wanted was this:
For Figen to choose him despite being strong, and to make him feel that she needed him.
But Arda did not yet understand this.
HERA
And that was exactly when Hera came into his life.
Hera was young.
Younger than Arda.
And she saw many things in him that impressed her.
Arda was more mature.
He had life experience.
He was successful.
He had established his own business.
He had connections.
He seemed confident.
In Hera’s world, Arda was a strong man.
And Hera had an emptiness of her own.
She was looking for a harbor.
A harbor where she could take shelter…
Where she could feel safe…
Where she could lean on the shoulder of someone who understood life.
That was exactly how Arda appeared to her.
At first, Hera did not know where this would lead, either.
But their conversations became more frequent.
Arda listened to her.
Hera listened to Arda.
Arda felt admired.
Hera felt protected.
And slowly, both of them crossed the line.
Hera was not actually happy with what she was doing, either.
Because she had never imagined herself as:
“The other woman in a married man’s life.”
She would not have wanted such a thing.
Perhaps, if she had heard it in someone else’s story, she would have said:
“I would never do that.”
But now she was doing it.
And this created a painful conflict inside Hera.
On one side, she said:
“This is wrong.”
On the other:
“But I love him.”
Conscience on one side…
Attachment on the other…
Her family on one side…
Arda on the other.
Hera’s family found out about the relationship, too.
Her mother…
Her father…
Her siblings…
They all opposed it.
“This man is married.”
“He has children.”
“Why are you putting yourself into a life like this?”
Sometimes Hera would shout:
“You don’t understand!”
Her mother would ask:
“What don’t we understand?”
Hera would cry.
“I love him!”
Her father was angry.
“Loving him doesn’t make everything right.”
But Hera was no longer listening.
She defied her family.
Damaged her relationships with her siblings.
There were days when she did not answer her mother’s calls.
Because, in her mind, her entire life had begun to narrow down to Arda.
If Arda was there, there was life.
If Arda was not…
It was as though nothing remained.
This was where the danger began.
Because love was turning into dependency.
TWO SEPARATE WORLDS
When Arda began his relationship with Hera, he grew even more distant from Figen.
After a while, he stood before Figen.
“I want a divorce,” he said.
Figen’s world came crashing down.
“Because of her?”
Arda said:
“It’s not just about Hera.”
Figen exploded.
“NOT JUST ABOUT HERA?”
“We’ve been unhappy for years already.”
Figen said:
“We?”
Then tears began to run down her face.
“Instead of coming to me and saying, ‘We’re in a bad place,’ you went and had a relationship with another woman!”
Arda said:
“I’ve been trying to tell you for years.”
Figen replied:
“No! You’ve been bottling it up for years!”
That night, they both fell apart.
Figen thought for a long time.
She was angry with Arda.
Angry with Hera.
But for the first time, she looked at herself, too.
She stood in front of the mirror.
She was wearing loose pajamas again.
Her hair was untidy.
She looked at her stomach.
Then she thought about the past.
How she had corrected Arda in front of other people…
How she had given him orders…
How she had pushed him into the background after the children…
How she had stopped even cooking his favorite meals…
How she had stopped taking care of herself…
The times when Arda had said:
“I’m your husband.”
For the first time, she thought:
“Arda’s betrayal is his wrongdoing. But have I made no mistakes at all in my marriage?”
The answer hurt.
She had.
Figen said:
“I don’t want a divorce.”
Arda did not believe her.
“Figen, we won’t change.”
“I can change.”
“You’ve been like this for twelve years.”
“I know.”
“In two days, you’ll be the same again.”
Figen fell silent.
Because it was understandable that Arda did not believe her.
So far, there were only words.
FIGEN’S TRANSFORMATION
This time, Figen began acting instead of talking.
She changed her eating habits.
Started walking.
Started losing weight.
Bought herself clothes.
Had her hair done.
Started wearing makeup.
Started wearing perfume.
But more importantly…
She began changing the way she spoke.
She took communication courses.
Read about relationships.
Observed herself.
One day, she began saying to Arda:
“Arda, do…”
Then she stopped.
“If you’re going to the grocery store, could you pick this up on your way back?”
Arda looked at her.
“I can.”
It was a simple sentence.
But it was one of the first signs of change.
Figen realized something else, too.
For years, she had exhausted herself trying to appear strong.
Even if she had not constantly said:
“I’ll handle it.”
“I don’t need you.”
She had acted that way.
Now, sometimes she would say:
“Could you help me?”
Sometimes:
“I’ve missed you.”
Sometimes she would simply sit beside Arda and touch him.
And Figen discovered something surprising:
Becoming gentler did not mean becoming weak.
Moreover, after a while, Figen’s transformation stopped being solely about winning Arda back.
She began to like herself when she looked in the mirror.
She felt better as she lost weight.
She liked having her hair done.
She felt alive when she dressed nicely.
For years, she had been only a mother…
A manager…
The person responsible for the household…
Now, once again, she was saying:
“I am a woman.”
And this felt good.
ARDA BETWEEN TWO WOMEN
But there was a problem:
Hera was still in Arda’s life.
On one side was Figen, who had begun to change.
On the other was Hera, who had fallen in love with Arda.
For a while, Arda began going back and forth between the two women.
And this was where the darkest period of the story began.
At first, these visits felt good.
Arda would leave Figen and go to Hera.
Hera would have been missing him for days.
She would open the door.
They would embrace.
“I’ve missed you so much.”
“Me, too.”
The first few hours were wonderful.
Longing…
Closeness…
Being together…
As though all the problems had disappeared.
But then…
The longing would fade.
Real life would return.
Hera would ask:
“When are you going to decide?”
Arda would become tense.
“Are we starting this again?”
“What do you mean, again? What’s going to happen to me?”
“Hera, let’s not talk about this now.”
“When are we going to talk about it?”
Arda was already carrying enormous stress.
Suddenly, he would shout:
“ENOUGH!”
Hera would begin to cry.
“I went against my family for you!”
Arda would say:
“I didn’t tell you to do that!”
“You told me you loved me!”
“I do, but…”
Hera would ask:
“BUT WHAT?”
And the argument would escalate.
Arda would slam the door and leave.
Get into his car.
Irritated…
Angry…
His heart pounding…
His head aching…
Not knowing where to go.
Then he would go to Figen.
Figen would open the door.
At first, there was the feeling of having missed one another…
The children throwing their arms around his neck…
Figen saying:
“Welcome home.”
For a while, everything was calm.
Then the subject would turn to Hera.
Figen would ask:
“Have you come from her place?”
Arda would say:
“Figen, don’t start.”
“I’m not starting anything!”
“You’re interrogating me again.”
“I’m your wife, Arda!”
Arda’s anger would rise again.
“I KNOW!”
Figen would ask:
“If you know, why can’t you make up your mind?”
And a few hours later…
This time, an argument with Figen.
A door slamming.
Arda getting into his car again.
And where would he go?
To Hera.
And so a terrible cycle began.
Figen…
Hera…
Figen…
Hera…
Longing at the first reunion.
Then closeness.
Then reality.
Then jealousy.
Questioning.
Anger.
An argument.
A slammed door.
Escape.
And taking refuge with the other woman.
Then the same thing there.
This had gone beyond a love triangle.
It had become a cycle of dependency.
None of them was truly at peace.
But none of them could break away.
Arda was now constantly stressed.
His mind was elsewhere at work.
He would flinch when the phone rang.
Was it Figen?
Hera?
If he answered one, the other would become angry.
If he went to one, he felt guilty toward the other.
He could not sleep at night.
Sometimes he would sit in his car for hours.
Behind the steering wheel, going nowhere…
Just thinking.
“What am I doing?”
But the next day, the same cycle again.
Figen had fallen apart, too.
When Arda did not come home, she would think:
“Where is he?”
She would look at her phone.
Time would pass.
Her chest would tighten.
She would think of Hera.
Then of herself.
She would go to the mirror.
“Who is he going to?” she would think.
“What does she have that I don’t?”
Hera was miserable, too.
When Arda went to Figen, she would wait by the phone.
One minute…
Ten minutes…
An hour…
She would send a message.
“Are you okay?”
No reply.
Another message.
“Where are you?”
Still no reply.
Then:
“Are you with Figen?”
When no answer came, her thoughts would eat away at her.
She would think that Arda had returned to Figen…
Imagine them together…
Become angry…
Cry…
Pick up her phone…
Then put it down…
Then write again.
This time:
“So you never loved me.”
Three people were eating without tasting their food.
Drinking tea without knowing what it tasted like.
Going to work without being able to focus on their jobs.
Sitting in a room while their minds were somewhere else.
Trying to sleep…
But their minds would not stop.
All three were sinking in different ways.
HERA’S IMPASSE
For Hera, the process began to grow even more painful.
Because she no longer simply loved Arda.
She had made him the center of her life.
She had gone against her family.
Grown distant from her friends.
Made her life depend on Arda’s decision.
And when Arda began saying:
“I’m thinking about going back to my family,”
Hera’s world began to collapse.
One day, Arda said:
“Hera, we can’t keep going like this.”
Hera’s expression changed.
“What do you mean?”
“I need to make a decision.”
“What decision?”
Arda fell silent.
Hera understood.
“You’re going back to Figen.”
Arda said:
“I have children.”
Hera asked:
“What am I?”
“Hera…”
“WHAT AM I, ARDA?”
Hera began to cry.
“I went against my family for you!”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t!”
Hera’s voice was trembling.
“Have you left me anywhere to go back to?”
Arda said:
“I didn’t ask you to leave your family.”
This sentence made Hera even angrier.
“Are you going to put all the blame on me now?”
As Hera’s fear grew, her behavior began to spiral out of control.
At one point, she began telling Arda:
“I can’t live if you leave me.”
Arda could not bear the weight of this.
“Hera, don’t talk like that.”
“It’s the truth.”
“No, it isn’t!”
“Who do I have left besides you?”
Arda said:
“You have your family.”
Hera gave a bitter laugh.
“My relationships with all of them are ruined because of you.”
Arda said:
“Not because of me…”
Hera shouted:
“ENOUGH!”
After a while, the things Hera said became more serious.
She began talking about killing herself.
Arda became frightened.
This was no longer an ordinary argument about breaking up.
Hera was entering a serious psychological crisis.
On one hand, Arda was thinking:
“I need to end this relationship.”
On the other, he would back down out of fear:
“What if she does something to herself?”
And so Hera’s fear kept Arda tied to her…
Arda’s indecision kept Hera’s hope alive…
And when that hope was shattered again, Hera reacted even more strongly.
This was how the cycle grew.
It was no longer only love.
Fear…
Dependency…
Guilt…
And helplessness had become intertwined.
One day, Arda tried to speak firmly.
“Hera, I want to go back to my family.”
Hera’s face went white.
“No.”
“Hera…”
“No, Arda.”
“Listen to me.”
“You’re not leaving.”
“Hera, I…”
Suddenly, Hera said:
“I’m pregnant.”
Arda froze.
The room fell silent.
“You’re what?”
“Pregnant.”
The color drained from Arda’s face.
He sat down in a chair.
Put his head in his hands.
His entire life had suddenly become even more complicated.
His children…
Figen…
Hera…
And now another child?
Arda’s heart was pounding wildly.
But as time passed, it emerged that this was not the truth.
Hera was not pregnant.
She had said it to stop Arda from leaving.
When the truth came out, something else broke inside Arda.
“Hera…”
His voice was trembling.
“How could you do this?”
Hera was crying.
“Because you were going to leave!”
“You lied to me!”
“I didn’t want to lose you!”
“Do you have any idea what this means?”
Hera cried:
“I DON’T KNOW!”
Then she sank to the floor.
She was crying.
“I don’t know anything anymore!”
Perhaps this was Hera’s truth, too.
She really no longer knew what she was doing.
She did not believe that what she was doing was right.
She was simply making one mistake after another out of fear of losing him.
ALL THREE HIT ROCK BOTTOM
All three were deeply worn down during this time.
Arda was constantly irritable.
He would explode over small things.
If someone said the wrong thing, he would shout.
If the phone rang, he would tense up.
When he was with Figen, he thought of Hera…
When he was with Hera, he thought of his children.
He was never fully present anywhere.
Hera would say:
“You’re beside me, but you’re not here.”
Figen said the same thing.
“You’re beside me, but you’re not here.”
Arda was hearing the same sentence from two different women.
Because, in truth, he was nowhere.
He was no longer present even in his own life.
Figen cried at night.
Sometimes she would look in the mirror and say:
“How did I get here?”
Sometimes she felt anger toward Arda.
Sometimes toward Hera.
Sometimes toward herself.
Sometimes she would say:
“I should let him go.”
Ten minutes later:
“No. I’m going to save this marriage.”
Hera had become even more isolated.
Her bond with her family had been damaged.
The possibility of losing Arda frightened her a little more each day.
Sometimes she loved Arda.
Sometimes she hated him.
“Why did you drag me into this life?” she would ask.
Arda would say:
“We both entered it.”
Hera would reply:
“You’ll go back to your home! What will happen to me?”
This was Hera’s greatest fear.
Arda had a home to return to.
He had children.
He had Figen.
Hera, meanwhile, had distanced herself from her old life through her own actions.
And she felt left stranded.
ARDA’S TURNING POINT
One evening, Arda came to Figen’s house.
One of the children ran up and threw their arms around his neck.
“Dad.”
Arda kissed his child.
The child asked:
“Are you staying here tonight?”
Arda froze.
“Why do you ask?”
The child shrugged.
“Just stay.”
Then went back to playing.
But that tiny sentence pierced Arda.
That night, he went into the children’s room.
They were asleep.
He stood by the door.
Watched them for a long time.
He asked himself:
“What am I doing?”
His desires on one side…
His children on the other.
A new and exciting life on one side…
Twelve years of effort on the other.
On one side, the question:
“What do I want?”
On the other, a much heavier question:
“What is right?”
For the first time, Arda began to think about the matter in terms of more than his own happiness.
These children had been entrusted to his care.
His wife had been entrusted to his care.
And he himself was accountable to Allah for the choices he made.
The thought that one day he would have to answer for all of this, not only to people…
But to Allah as well, shook him.
Saying:
“I was unhappy…”
Did not make what he had done right.
Saying:
“Figen wasn’t taking care of herself…”
Did not make betrayal right.
Saying:
“She belittled me…”
Did not make lying right.
Saying:
“I had needs…”
Did not make every choice permissible.
For the first time, Arda put aside his excuses and said:
“I did wrong.”
And perhaps this was where repentance began.
He loved Hera.
He did not deny it.
But he began to understand that loving someone did not always mean continuing.
Sometimes a person can love someone…
Yet the path they are walking together can still be wrong.
Sometimes two people can truly become attached to each other…
But this does not mean the relationship they have built is right.
Arda had understood this late.
But he had understood.
THE DECISION
Arda went to face Hera.
This time, he was calmer.
“Hera.”
The moment Hera looked at his face, she understood that something was different.
“What happened?”
Arda said:
“I’m going home.”
Hera’s eyes filled with tears.
“No.”
“Hera…”
“No.”
Arda said:
“Listen to me.”
“I don’t want to listen to you.”
“Hera…”
Hera shouted:
“Don’t you love me?”
Arda fell silent.
Then:
“I did.”
Hera asked:
“You did?”
Arda’s eyes filled with tears, too.
“I’m not saying I don’t love you.”
“Then why?”
Arda said:
“Because I don’t have to do everything I love.”
Hera fell silent.
Arda continued:
“I have children.”
Hera asked:
“Is that my fault?”
“No.”
“There’s Figen.”
“Yes.”
“What am I?”
Arda could not answer for a long time.
Finally, he said:
“You’re someone I took refuge in at the wrong time, in the wrong place.”
Tears poured from Hera’s eyes.
“I really loved you.”
Arda said:
“I know.”
Hera said:
“I went against everyone for you.”
Arda’s voice broke.
“I wish you hadn’t.”
Crying, Hera asked:
“You’re telling me that now?”
Arda lowered his head.
“You’re right.”
This separation was very painful for Hera.
That was why Arda could not simply leave her alone and run away.
Hera’s talk of harming herself was now a crisis that needed to be taken seriously.
People close to her needed to become involved.
Her family needed to be informed.
Because responsibility for a person’s life could not be placed solely on their lover’s shoulders.
Hera now needed more than Arda’s love.
She needed help.
She needed support.
She needed to rebuild her own life.
And perhaps the hardest part:
She needed to learn again that she existed without Arda, too.
COMING HOME
Arda returned to Figen.
But this was not a fairy tale ending with:
“And they lived happily ever after.”
Because a person can return home in a single night.
Trust does not return that same night.
Arda could say:
“I’m back.”
But Hera had not left Figen’s mind.
Figen continued to change.
She lost weight.
Took care of herself.
Did her hair.
Paid attention to how she dressed.
Wore perfume.
Changed the way she spoke.
But for a time, Hera sat at the center of all these things.
An invisible competition began in Figen’s mind.
“How does Hera dress?”
“What perfume does she wear?”
“What did Arda love about her?”
“How did she speak?”
One day, she bought the perfume she knew Arda had liked on Hera.
She came home and sprayed it on.
Arda noticed the scent.
His expression changed.
Figen immediately asked:
“Do you like it?”
Arda fell silent.
“Figen…”
“What?”
“This perfume…”
Figen’s eyes filled with tears.
“Yes!”
Then she suddenly exploded.
“BECAUSE THIS IS WHAT YOU LOVED ON HER!”
Arda fell silent.
Figen was crying.
“I look at how she dresses!”
“I look at how she speaks!”
“I look at how she does her hair!”
“I’m trying to understand what you loved about her!”
Arda said:
“Figen…”
Figen replied:
“I came close to losing my husband because of another woman!”
Then her voice grew quieter.
“I don’t know how to live without comparing myself to her.”
This was Figen’s real wound.
Hera was no longer in Arda’s life.
But she was inside Figen’s head.
Even if Hera was miles away…
Figen brought her into the house every day.
In a dress…
In a perfume…
In a mirror…
In a delay…
In the sound of a phone…
One night, Figen stood in front of the mirror.
She had lost weight.
Her hair looked beautiful.
Her makeup looked beautiful.
The dress she was wearing suited her.
She looked at herself for a long time.
Then, suddenly, a question came:
“Who am I trying to become?”
Silence.
“Hera?”
Figen’s eyes filled with tears.
For a while, she looked at herself in the mirror.
Then she said:
“No.”
“I’m Figen.”
This was where Figen’s second transformation began.
The first had been about not losing Arda.
The second was about:
Not losing herself.
Now, when she put on makeup, she was no longer doing it only so that:
“Arda will like it.”
She did it because she liked it.
When she lost weight, she was no longer saying:
“I want to be better than Hera.”
She was doing it to feel better in her own body.
She dressed nicely…
Wore perfume…
Did her hair…
But she was no longer competing.
She was returning to herself.
And Figen realized something surprising.
For years, she had gone around saying:
“I’m strong.”
But now she felt much stronger.
Because she no longer had to appear strong.
ARDA REBUILDS TRUST
Arda had a great deal to do, too.
“I’m sorry” was not enough.
He did not hide his phone.
He said where he was going.
If he was going to be late, he let her know.
When Figen asked the same question again and again, he answered as calmly as he could.
Because he was the one who had destroyed the trust.
He had to tolerate the noise that came with repairing it.
One night, he came home half an hour late.
Figen’s heart began to race.
When Arda opened the door, she asked:
“Where were you?”
Arda said:
“The meeting ran late. I sent you a message.”
Figen looked at her phone.
The message really was there.
She was silent for a while.
Arda asked:
“You thought of Hera, didn’t you?”
Figen lowered her head.
“Yes.”
This time, Arda did not say:
“How much longer?”
He sat beside her.
Took her hand.
Figen asked:
“Will it go away one day?”
Arda replied:
“I don’t know.”
Then he said:
“But I’ll do my part to help it go away.”
This was how trust returned.
Not through one grand statement.
Through hundreds of small actions.
Arda also began taking on more of the responsibility for the children.
When Figen wanted to get ready, he would say:
“You get ready. I’ll look after them.”
Before, it had been easy to say:
“Take care of yourself.”
Now, he was making time for Figen to be able to take care of herself.
This was one of the things Arda had learned.
Asking someone to change was one thing…
Standing beside them so they could change was another.
Figen, too, began to notice Arda more.
One evening, Arda lifted the lid of a pot.
Inside was his favorite meal.
He was surprised.
“Did you make this?”
Figen replied:
“No, the neighbor did.”
Arda laughed.
Figen laughed, too.
“Of course I made it.”
Arda said:
“But the children don’t eat it.”
Figen smiled slightly.
“The children aren’t the only people living in this house.”
Arda fell silent.
Because this was exactly what he had wanted to say years earlier.
It was not about the food.
It was about being remembered.
LEARNING EACH OTHER AGAIN
Both of them took courses.
They read.
They listened.
They talked about their relationship.
Before, they had argued over:
“Who’s right?”
Now, they began asking:
“What is the person in front of me trying to say?”
When Figen wanted to correct something, she would say:
“I read something different about this. Shall we look at it together?”
When Arda felt hurt, instead of withdrawing into himself, he tried to say:
“What you said hurt me.”
Figen would say:
“I spend all day working for this family.”
Arda no longer interpreted this as:
“I’m not interested in you.”
Arda would say:
“I want you to make time for me, too.”
Figen tried not to hear this as:
“You’re a bad mother.”
For years, they had spoken the same language.
But they had mistranslated each other’s sentences.
Now they were learning again.
One night, Figen said:
“For years, I didn’t know what the problem was.”
Arda replied:
“And I wasn’t explaining it properly.”
Figen said:
“When you don’t know the problem, you can’t find the solution.”
This was what they had experienced for years.
They had been fighting the consequences.
But they had not seen the causes.
Over time, Hera began to occupy less space in Figen’s mind.
At first, she thought about her every day.
Then a few times a week.
Then once a week.
Then sometimes months would pass.
One day, she looked at the perfume shelf in the bathroom.
The perfume Hera had worn was still there.
She picked up the bottle.
Opened the cap.
Smelled it.
Once, this scent would have made her chest tighten.
Now she felt nothing.
She looked at the bottle for a while.
Then threw it in the trash.
No one saw.
Not even Arda.
But perhaps this was Figen’s real victory.
Because she was no longer trying to defeat Hera.
She had ended Hera’s control over her own mind.
HERA’S LIFE HAD TO GO ON, TOO
For Hera, healing meant something different.
Breaking away from Arda.
Being able to speak with her family again.
Accepting the mistake she had made.
No longer defining herself only as:
“The woman Arda loves.”
Because this had been Hera’s greatest misconception.
She had tied her entire identity to one person’s love.
When Arda left, she was left alone with the question:
“Who am I?”
It was a very painful question.
But perhaps it was the real question she needed to ask herself for the first time in her life.
Arda could no longer be her harbor.
Hera had to find her own shore.
YEARS LATER
One evening, Figen and Arda were sitting on the balcony.
The children’s voices came from inside.
Figen said:
“I wish none of this had ever happened.”
Arda lowered his head.
“So do I.”
Figen said:
“We didn’t have to go through this.”
“We didn’t.”
There was silence for a while.
Then Figen said:
“But can I tell you something?”
“Go ahead.”
“I don’t want to be the old Figen.”
Arda looked at her.
Figen smiled.
“Don’t get me wrong.”
Then she pointed to herself.
“I like this woman more.”
Arda smiled.
“So do I.”
Figen immediately said:
“I was speaking for myself.”
They both laughed.
Perhaps, for the first time in years, they laughed this freely.
The children could see that the home had changed, too.
Even if children are told nothing, they know the atmosphere of a home.
The way doors close…
The way their mother looks at their father…
The way their father speaks to their mother…
The silence at the table…
They feel all of it.
But now they were seeing something else.
Their mother and father laughing together…
Being able to hug…
Being able to apologize…
Having an argument and then talking…
Valuing one another…
One day, one of the children said:
“When I grow up, I’m going to have a marriage like yours.”
Arda and Figen looked at each other.
Both of their eyes filled with tears.
Because there had been a time when they might have feared their children would think:
“I’m never getting married.”
Now, however, the children no longer saw marriage only as arguments and separation.
Sometimes marriage meant:
Making mistakes…
Accepting your mistakes…
Apologizing…
Changing yourself…
Getting to know the other person again…
And, if you believed it was right, choosing each other again.
Years later, Arda learned something important:
He had not actually wanted Figen to be dependent on him.
He had wanted to be chosen by Figen.
Figen learned something else:
Being strong did not mean saying:
“I don’t need anyone.”
Sometimes real strength meant being able to say:
“I can do it alone, too. But I want to do it with you.”
Arda also learned this:
The fact that a person has needs…
Does not justify all their behavior.
Sexual needs can be real.
The need for attention can be real.
The desire to be appreciated can be real.
But a person still chooses how to behave.
Arda’s turning to Hera had been his own choice.
He could not place responsibility for it on Figen’s weight…
Her character…
The way she spoke…
Or her mistakes.
Figen learned something else, too:
Arda’s betrayal was not her fault.
But this did not prevent her from looking at the mistakes she herself had made in her marriage.
A person could say two things at the same time:
“I was wronged.”
And:
“Where did I go wrong, too?”
One did not cancel out the other.
Perhaps Hera learned the hardest lesson:
Falling in love with someone…
Does not mean handing our lives over to them.
If one person leaves, we do not have to cease to exist.
When love grows so large that it makes a person give up on themselves, there are other wounds alongside that love.
And those wounds need to heal.
In the end, all three learned the same thing in different ways:
If a person fights only the consequences without understanding the cause of a problem, they create the same pain again and again.
Figen saw the consequence:
A cold marriage.
But she did not see the causes.
Arda saw the consequence:
Unhappiness.
But he did not see his own silence and wrong choices.
Hera saw the consequence:
Arda coming to her.
But she did not want to see the broken foundation on which this relationship had been built.
Eventually, the causes began to become visible.
Lack of communication…
Neglect…
Ego…
Control…
Desire…
The need for appreciation…
Jealousy…
Dependency…
Fear of loneliness…
The loss of romance…
And unspoken expectations.
When the cause began to change, the outcome began to change, too.
Their relationship did not heal overnight.
Sometimes Figen returned to her old authoritative tone.
Then she stopped.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“The old Figen came back again.”
Sometimes Arda withdrew into himself.
Figen said:
“You’re running away again.”
This time, Arda did not slam the door and leave.
“Yes,” he said.
“Let’s talk.”
This was change.
Not never making mistakes.
But being able to recognize a mistake sooner.
Years earlier, in their little home, Figen had told Arda:
“Hard work doesn’t go to waste.”
Years later, they both learned another meaning of that sentence.
Marriage required effort, too.
But it was not just about living together…
It required trying to understand each other…
Noticing that the other person had changed…
Not taking each other for granted…
Not forgetting how to be lovers…
And being able to ask again every day:
“Who are you today?”
“What do you need?”
“How can I understand you better?”
Arda and Figen learned this very late.
They paid a heavy price.
Hera paid a heavy price, too.
All three hit rock bottom at one point.
But hitting rock bottom is not always where life ends.
Sometimes it is where a person says, for the first time:
“I can’t go on like this.”
And perhaps real transformation begins right there.