"I'm tired of being strong," she whispered to the steam rising from the tea.
She stood up, leaving the tea untouched and the phone face down on the wooden table. For the first time in thirty years, Sıla didn’t head toward the ferry to go home. She walked toward the coast, toward the vast, dark expanse of the Marmara Sea.
Should Sıla or find a way to stay on her own terms? Is there a specific person she needs to confront?
