"Leave it," Selim said softly, his voice trembling just a fraction. "It’s the only time she’s allowed to visit."
At exactly eight o’clock, the crackle of the speakers gave way to the soft, weeping notes of a ney. It was the "Ela Gözlüm" melody—a song without words, yet louder than any shout. Ela Gozlum Fon Muzigi
The waiter, a young man who didn't understand the weight of the song, moved to change the station. "Leave it," Selim said softly, his voice trembling