Chapter Twenty-one

Darien

Darien wasn’t sure what more he should say to Baran once they got upstairs. He followed him to the bedroom.

“Do you want to sleep in here with me?”

“No.”

“Follow me then.”

Darien led the way to the guest room down the hallway, and hesitated at the door, the words catching awkwardly in his throat. He glanced at Baran, who stood in the hallway with an expression that was hard to read, his eyes distant. Finally, Darien asked, “Are you sure you want to sleep in here tonight?”

Baran didn’t meet his gaze. “I think I need my own room,” he said, almost apologetically. “To think.”

The words landed like a blow Darien hadn’t braced for. His own room? For how long? Darien swallowed hard, unsure what to say or do. He felt a twinge of hurt, though he wasn’t sure if it was from Baran’s need for space or his own failure for messing things up for him. His hands fidgeted as he nodded, forcing a small smile. “Okay. You can stay in your room.”

The room was decorated for Christmas—a whimsical haven of holiday cheer. Strings of twinkling lights framed the window.

Darien stepped inside and turned on the lights on the Christmas tree. “The switch is here if you want to turn off the light,” he said, his voice quieter than he intended. He glanced at Baran, searching his face for some sign of what he was thinking. Did the room feel too cheerful? Too much, given the rawness that hung around Baran like a heavy shadow?

Baran nodded. “Thanks.” His tone was neutral, giving nothing away.

Darien’s chest tightened. He wanted to ask more, to press. He clenched his fists, anger sparking in his veins at trusting Mr. Aslan to do the right thing for Baran. How could someone hurt their own son so badly? The thought churned inside him, unresolved and infuriating. He wanted to protect Baran, but he wasn’t sure if Baran even wanted him anymore.

He forced himself to take a step back. “You’ll let me know if you need anything?”

Baran gave a small nod. “I will.”

After an awkward pause, Darien cleared his throat. “You…working tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” Baran said simply, his voice flat but certain.

Darien nodded, though it made his heart ache. “Alright.”

He lingered a moment longer, hovering in the doorway as if he might find the right thing to say. But the words never came. Instead, he gave Baran one last look and turned away, leaving him alone in the soft glow of the Christmas lights.

Darien navigated his sleek black sedan through the city streets, the faint hum of the engine blending with the early morning bustle. He glanced over at Baran, tense in the passenger seat, before turning into the driveway of an upscale café.

Darien parked and led Baran inside, the two settling on a corner table by the window. The Turkish establishment had large glass windows reflecting the soft morning light. Inside, sleek marble tables and plush leather chairs created an atmosphere of understated luxury. The scent of freshly brewed coffee and warm pastries wafted through the air as the quiet clink of silverware and the murmur of conversations filled the space. “What are you going to order?”

“The turkey sausage skillet.”

“What’s in it?”

“Bell peppers, potatoes, and ground turkey sausage. It’s made with interesting spices in a skillet. It’s delicious.”

“Then I’ll have that too.”

A waiter approached swiftly, taking their orders of the turkey sausage breakfast skillet with Turkish tea.

As they waited for their food, Darien leaned back slightly in his chair, his sharp gaze fixed on Baran. “Here’s the plan for today,” he began, his voice low but firm. “I need you to take care of something important at work. The shelter’s Christmas event is coming up, and we need presents for the men. You’ll be in charge of buying them.”

“How will I shop without transportation?”

Darien pulled out his driver’s business card and handed it to Baran. “This is my driver, Eddy. Call him when you’re ready. He can also suggest stores to you.”

“Thanks.”

He pulled out a shiny black and gold credit card and slid it across the table. “Take this. Buy thoughtful gifts—things they’ll really appreciate. When you get back, Silas and Hawk will help you wrap them. But for the beginning of the day, I’ve got business to handle. You’re on your own until then.”

Baran nodded, his expression serious and distant as he pocketed the card. Their breakfast skillets arrived, golden and fragrant, with colorful peppers mixed in with the gold potatoes. Darien sipped his steaming tea, allowing a brief moment of quiet between them. He knew the task would keep Baran busy, and by the time he returned, the day would be well underway.

“Why don’t you have a limo drive you around the city?” Baran asked.

“I don’t waste my money on things I can do myself,” Darien said.

“But your home is enormous for just you and Miss Charlotte.”

“I inherited my home from my grandparents, and I’ll never sell it, so I live there.” Baran’s questions worried him. He acted like his stay was temporary. Changing the subject, he asked, “Would you like to come with me to Gingerbread Lane later?”

“What is it?”

“It’s the world’s largest gingerbread village, where everything is made of gingerbread. We can make a gingerbread house, decorate it together, then take it to the children at the placement center.”

“What is the placement center?”

“Children who have been removed from their home for various reasons. They’re awaiting placement for a group home, adoption, or a court hearing for a possible return to their parents.”

“That’s sad. I’ll go to help the kids.”

“There are over a thousand gingerbread structures to see there too.”

“How do you know about the place?”

“My grandparents took me there every year when I was a kid. I miss going.”

After they finished breakfast, Darien dropped him off at the shelter.

“If you run into any problems, call me. I’m never too busy for you.”

“I will.”

“Can I trust you’ll work today?”

“Yes, sir.”

The scent of Baran’s hair filled Darien’s senses as he leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “Stay safe.”

With that, Baran got out of the vehicle and walked to the shelter. Once Darien saw Baran enter the shelter, he left for his meeting, driving through the congested streets with the scent of exhaust fumes filling the air.

Darien eased his car into a parking spot near New York University’s main campus, stepping out into the brisk winter air. Students shuffled between classes, their chatter blending with the occasional honk of city traffic. Darien began his walk, the directions to Jonathan’s office sharp in his memory.

The sidewalks were busy, a mosaic of students, faculty, and visitors. He reached the administration building, its heavy glass doors swinging open as he entered. He told the receptionist he was here to see Professor Fletcher, and she led him to his office.

Jonathan, seated at his polished desk, greeted him with a wide grin. “Darien!” he said, rising to clasp his hand. “I’ve got good news for you.”

“Stop teasing,” Darien replied, settling into the chair across from him.

“Ah, yes. Istanbul University’s golden boy,” he said, reaching for a folder on his desk. “No issues there. His academic record is stellar—top grades, glowing recommendations. The Admissions Committee reviewed it, and I’ve got his acceptance letter right here.” He slid a sealed envelope across the desk.

Darien exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “That’s a relief. So, what’s next? Visa application, I assume?”

“Exactly,” Jonathan confirmed. “He’ll need to apply for a student visa, but with this acceptance and his records, I don’t foresee any hurdles. If he needs guidance, have him reach out to our Office of Global Services. They’re pros at this.”

Darien nodded, pocketing the letter. “I appreciate this, Jonathan. Really. Baran’s got potential, and I couldn’t think of a better place for him.”

Jonathan waved it off with a smile. “Anything for you, Darien. You’ve got a good eye for talent.”

They exchanged a few more pleasantries before Darien left, his footsteps purposeful as he stopped at Global Servies to pick up some pamphlets to assist a student visa with the link to apply.

The rest of his day was a whirlwind of visits to children’s placement centers. At each stop, Darien introduced himself to the managers, taking time to ask about their needs. They spoke of everything from winter clothing to educational materials, and Darien meticulously noted it all down.

One manager, a middle-aged woman with a kind smile, handed him a list. “These are some of the essentials we’re short on,” she said.

“Thank you,” Darien replied. “I’ll see what I can do to help.”

By the time he finished with all his stops, he had to pick up Baran. He hoped for the best tonight.