Foreword
There are some journeys that a person does not choose; rather, those journeys choose the person. This story belongs to those who never lose hope even while walking through darkness, who feel the power of prayer in the depths of their hearts, and who choose to be reborn no matter what.
May you find a light that touches your heart in each chapter, and may your path be filled with brightness.
349 _ writer ✍🏻
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Day 1 – The First Spark
As the war entered its seventh year, the city had turned into a silent graveyard. Among the ruined houses, the wind scattered the rubble as if whispering; even the sun rose shyly and with hesitation. As she did every morning, Zeynep headed toward the old train station. With the tin pieces and sturdy planks she could find among the wreckage, she both fed the stove and tried to build shelters for those who had nowhere else to go.
She was twenty-two, but her eyes looked as if they had seen seventy years. She had lost her mother in the war, and hadn’t heard a single word about her father in years. “Either he became a martyr or he’s still trying to find a way back,” she thought, and sometimes this hope was what kept her going.
That morning, at the back of the train station, she found a yellow envelope wedged between bricks, covered in dust. The date written on it caught her attention: 28 Ramadan 1361.
Her hands trembled as she opened the envelope. Inside was a letter, written in delicate handwriting with old Ottoman script. It began with a basmala:
“Bismillahirrahmanirrahim. As I write these lines, my heart longs for the mercy of the Most Compassionate…”
Zeynep paused for a moment. An indescribable shiver had taken over her. Even the scent of the paper was different; a mixture of dust, time, and tears. She tried to translate as much as she could. The letter contained a man’s prayer from the battlefield and his longing for a woman. But what stood out the most was this sentence:
“If these lines one day reach the hands of a stranger, let them know that hope is not only an obligation for the survivors but also for those who wait.”
Zeynep pressed the letter to her chest. Her eyes filled with tears, but she did not cry. Perhaps for the first time in a long while, she had found something that didn’t burn her from the inside. This sentence felt like a remedy she had been silently waiting for over the years. Hope...
Who was the person who wrote this letter? Who had he written it to? And why had it been hidden among the ruins?
On the first page of the small notebook she carried, she wrote only one sentence:
“If I ever find him, I will deliver it to him.”
That night, for the first time, she watched the stars. They were still there. The sky wasn’t at war. And maybe… prayers still reached somewhere.
But in the morning, when she saw a second envelope shining under a stone in the corner of the station, everything began to change.
And Zeynep had no idea what she would face when she opened that envelope…
To be continued…
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