Day 25 – The Eastern Gate
Zeynep woke up with the call to morning prayer. She took the small stone lying next to her pillow into her palm. The inscription “What comes with patience, stays with grace” seemed carved into the dawn like a prayer. There was an unusual calm in her heart. For the first time in a long while, she had awakened with curiosity instead of anxiety.
She threw on a simple, dark-colored coat. In her handbag, she packed only a few essentials: her prayer beads, a small notebook, a section from the Qur'an, the stone from Yusuf, and a yellowed prayer slip her mother had given her years ago.
When she stepped outside, Istanbul was still asleep. The sidewalks were wet, and the sky had turned a soft gray. Each step felt like breaking away from the past and stepping into the future. With every footfall, she searched for Yusuf’s footprints, his scent on every stone… Perhaps a prayer echoed in her mind:
“My Lord, teach me to be one of those who endure with patience.”
The Eastern Gate was at the edge of the old district, down a back alley beyond a forgotten inn. Zeynep hadn’t been to that part of town in years. The place once served as a busy caravan route. Now, only a few crumbling walls, a rusted sign, and shadows remained.
When she arrived, Sâlih was already there. He had a backpack on his back and an old cane in his hand. His eyes, as clear as glass, looked as if they hadn’t closed all night. When he saw Zeynep, he nodded.
— "The time has come."
— "Where are we going?" Zeynep asked.
Sâlih smiled.
— "First the forest. Then the stone slope. Finally, the lodge where Yusuf is staying."
Zeynep’s heart raced.
— "The lodge?"
— "That’s where Yusuf’s downfall once began. But now... it is the threshold of his rebirth."
When Zeynep heard those words, a chill ran through her. The word lodge reminded her of the peaceful gatherings at the Sufi lodge during her childhood — a world filled with the sound of the reed flute, the scent of roses, and the quiet steps of dervishes striving with patience.
Sâlih stepped ahead, and Zeynep began to follow.
The road was muddy. With every step, the soil clung to her boots, reminding her how far she had come — from the city, from her home, from her old self. But for the first time, it didn’t bother her.
They walked for an hour. From time to time, Sâlih would stop, gaze at the sky, sniff the wind, and then quietly continue walking. It was as if he was following not just a path but time itself.
Zeynep paused for a moment, her eyes fixed on the misty trail ahead.
— "Sâlih… where does this road really lead?"
— "To the gate of truth."
— "And what if what I find there isn’t what I expected?"
Sâlih slowed down. He turned to Zeynep and spoke in a deep but calm voice:
— "Then you’ll leave the truths in your heart there and begin to gather new ones. Because hope sometimes hides in the path you think is wrong — the truest sign leading you to what is right."
Zeynep took a deep breath. The stone in her palm felt warm.
They kept walking.
Just then, a bird’s cry echoed from afar. Then, a sharp voice rang out from deep within the forest:
“Stop!”
Zeynep and Sâlih froze.
Someone else had emerged from the bushes.
Wearing a torn cloak, deep lines etched across their face...
But those eyes…
Zeynep recognized those eyes from somewhere.
To be continued…
FOLLOW • COMMENT • SHARE • LIKE • TIP • SUBSCRIBE