Chapter Thirty

Baran

Early Christmas morning, Miss Charlotte’s sister dropped her off at home. Daddy Darien and Baran were showered and had packed an overnight bag. They made their way downstairs to the kitchen because they smelled bacon cooking.

“What are you doing in the kitchen on Christmas Day?” Daddy Darien asked.

“We need to eat before we leave for Wainscott. No point in stopping at a restaurant,” Miss Charlotte said.

Daddy Darien hugged her. “Merry Christmas, Charlotte. I love you.”

Baran hugged her too and wished her a Merry Christmas. They all sat down to her famous pancakes.

Daddy Darien handed her a red envelope. “This is your Christmas present and open it now, please.”

As she opened the envelope and started reading, Daddy Darien explained. “See those dates? You’re off. So have a delightful visit with your family in Scotland.”

“Wow! Really?” she screamed as the tears rolled down her cheeks..

They piled into the car, the engine vibrating through their seats as it roared to life, and drove towards Wainscott, their stomachs still full of breakfast. Baran gave Miss Charlotte the front seat beside Daddy Darien out of respect. It seemed like a long drive, because they hit some traffic.

“How long is it to Wainscott?” Baran asked.

“Normally around two hours, but with the snow falling and the holiday, it might take longer.”

After three hours, they arrived in Wainscott. Baran stood on the sandy beach, gazing at the house that seemed to emerge from the dunes. It was a large, two-story structure with a dark shingle exterior, its weathered wood blending seamlessly with the natural surroundings. Large windows offered stunning views of the ocean. A wraparound porch, supported by sturdy white columns, provided a perfect spot for enjoying the sea breeze and watching the waves roll in. Not another home was in view. He hadn’t expected a home on the beach. He had no idea Daddy Darien's parents lived on the sand. Baran followed Daddy Darien and Miss Charlotte up the stone steps of the grand coastal house, his keen eyes scanning the immaculate surroundings. As the front door swung open, a wave of warmth spilled out, carrying the faint aroma of sea air and something sweet baking inside.

Daddy Darien’s parents, Benjamin and Claire, greeted them with welcoming smiles. Benjamin was a tall man with a sturdy frame, silver streaks in his dark hair, and sharp blue eyes that hinted at a younger, adventurous spirit. Claire, on the other hand, was petite and graceful, her soft brown hair swept into a loose chignon, and her warm hazel eyes radiated a quiet kindness.

Standing beside them was Norah, Daddy Darien’s cousin. Baran couldn’t help but notice her striking ginger hair cascading down her shoulders, catching the light like burnished copper. Her emerald-green dress complemented her sharp features, and her bright smile lit up her freckled face. She looked like Daddy Darien’s sister.

Daddy Darien gestured toward Baran with an air of pride. “Mom, Dad, this is Baran. He’s my fiancé, and he is living with me. And this,” he said, turning to Norah, “is my cousin Norah. Baran, meet the family.”

Baran inclined his head politely. “It’s a pleasure to meet all of you.”

After exchanging greetings, they stepped inside the house. The interior was just as impressive as its coastal facade—open and airy, with floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the vast ocean. The walls were a soft cream adorned with tasteful artwork, and the wooden floors glowed warmly under the sunlight. A large dining table sat to one side, and just beyond it was a cozy living room with plush furniture arranged around a stone fireplace. The rhythmic sound of waves crashing against the shore filtered through the slightly open windows.

Claire motioned toward the living room. “Please, make yourselves comfortable. I’ll bring some refreshments.”

They settled into the deep, overstuffed chairs and the long sectional sofa. Baran sat across from Benjamin, who leaned forward slightly, a curious spark in his eye.

“So, Baran,” Benjamin began, “tell me about yourself. Where are you from?”

Baran hesitated for a moment before answering, “I come from Istanbul, Turkey.”

“Turkey, eh?” Benjamin leaned back, stroking his chin. “What brings you to these parts? Business? Adventure?”

“I’ll be attending New York University,” Baran replied, his voice steady.

Benjamin’s brows lifted with interest. “And how did you come across my son? Not every day Darien brings someone home with him and calls him his fiancé.”

“We met at the shelter,” Baran explained.

“Fascinating,” Benjamin mused. “What kind of work do you do, Baran? You strike me as someone who’s seen his fair share of challenges.”

Baran offered a small smile. “I was a student and didn’t work, but I work at the shelter now.”

“And where is your family?” Benjamin asked.

Baran paused, his gaze briefly shifting to the ocean view beyond the windows. “My mother lives in Italy now.”

“And your father?”

“He’s from Turkey but works in New York City.”

Benjamin seemed satisfied with the answer and leaned back with a thoughtful smile. “You’re welcome here, Baran. I hope you’ll feel at home.”

Baran inclined his head again. “Thank you, sir. Your home is beautiful, and your hospitality is appreciated.”

The conversation flowed easily after that, with Norah chiming in with a few questions of her own and Claire joining them with a tray of tea and freshly baked scones. Despite the questions, Baran found the family’s warmth made the afternoon surprisingly pleasant.

The doorbell rang and everyone looked at each other wondering who would drop in on Christmas Day?

“Baran, would you answer the door for me?” Benjamin asked, as he was untangling the lights around the tree in the dining room. Baran hesitated as he approached the door, wondering who it could be. The others were in the kitchen, laughter and conversation drifting faintly down the hall. When he opened the door, his breath caught in his throat.

Standing on the porch was a man he hadn’t expected to see. Marat Aslan. His father. He stood tall, holding a bag with colorful wrapping paper peeking out from the top, an uneasy but hopeful smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Baran,” his father said, his voice low and familiar.

Baran’s hand gripped the door tighter, his mind reeling. “What…what are you doing here?” he asked, his voice almost a whisper. He glanced over his shoulder instinctively, as if to confirm that this moment wasn’t some strange hallucination.

“I was invited…by Benjamin.”

“Benjamin?” Baran repeated, struggling to process what he was hearing. Benjamin had invited his baba? How? Why?

His father nodded. “He thought…I should come. That it was time.” He hesitated before adding, “May I come in?”

Baran didn’t answer immediately. He stared at his father, the shock of seeing him standing there muddling his thoughts. But after a long moment, he stepped back, opening the door wider.

“Come in,” Baran said, his voice stiff but not unkind.

His father entered, glancing around the house with an air of both familiarity and nervousness. After setting the bag down, he turned to Baran, his expression somber. “Before I greet everyone else, I was hoping we could talk. Just the two of us. Maybe in another room?”

Baran’s heart pounded, but he nodded. “Alright.” He led his father to a small study off the main hall, closing the door behind them.

His father stood awkwardly for a moment, then gestured to the chairs. “Let’s sit.”

Baran remained standing, arms crossed. “What do you want?

His father sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping. “I want to apologize, Baran. For everything. For leaving. For what I did at the gala. For not being there when you need me. For the years we lost.”

Baran’s eyes narrowed, emotions warring within him. “Why now?”

“I made mistakes,” he said quietly. “I didn’t know how to face you, how to fix things. But when I reached out to Benjamin about Darien, he told me you were my son, and no decent father disowns his own blood. And I realized…I need you in my life. I want to make things right, if you’ll let me.”

Baran’s jaw tightened as he struggled to find the words. The wound his father had left behind felt raw again, but there was something in his father’s voice—earnestness, regret—that he couldn’t ignore.

“I don’t know if I can just forgive you,” Baran said finally, his voice low. “It’s not that simple.”

“I understand,” he said. “I’m not asking for that. But I’d like a chance to try. To prove I can do better.” His father reached for the bag he’d brought, pulling out a carefully wrapped box and handing it to Baran. “Here. I brought this for you.”

Baran hesitated before taking the box, unwrapping it slowly. Inside was a sleek briefcase. He glanced at his father questioningly before opening it.

Inside the briefcase was a check. Baran’s breath hitched when he saw the amount—it was enough to cover his tuition entirely.

“What…what is this?” Baran asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“It’s for your education,” his father said simply. “I know it doesn’t make up for the years I wasn’t there, but I want to support you now, however I can.”

“I don’t need your money. Keep it for your retirement. Thank you for the briefcase. It has meaning to me.”

Baran stared at the check, a lump forming in his throat. He looked up at his father, his expression a mixture of confusion, anger, and something softer—hope, maybe.

“You didn’t have to do this.” He returned the check to his father.

“I wanted to,” his father replied. “Please, Baran. Let me be a part of your life again. You don’t have to decide now, but…think about it.”

Baran’s hands tightened around the briefcase. He didn’t know what to say. The emotions swirling inside him were too much, too complicated. But for the first time in years, he saw something in his father’s eyes he hadn’t seen before. Sincerity.

“Give me some time. I’ll think about it,” Baran said finally, his voice soft.

His father nodded. “That’s all I’m asking.” He got up and hugged Baran. “I’m proud of your accomplishments. I love you,” his father said.

“I love you too.”

Benjamin and Daddy Darien walked into the study and interrupted their hug.

“Is everything okay in here?” Benjamin asked.

“Yes, hopefully soon, we’ll be father and son again, as it should be.”

“Baran, is everything okay with you?” Daddy Darien asked.

“Yes.”

“I can’t stay. I’m flying to Italy to move your mother over here. I hope we’ll see each other when I return with her.” His father gave Baran another hug, then left.

After dinner, Daddy Darien and Baran went up to their room to talk.

“Are you okay?’ Daddy Darien asked.

“I am. Did you know my father was coming here today?”

“No. I had no idea. Your father doesn’t live far from here.”

“I’m sure he’ll invite us when my mother moves here.”

“Yes, of course. Did I tell you yet on Christmas that I love you so much?”

“Not today.”

“I love you, Baran.”

“I love you more, Daddy Darien.”

The End