He woke up on the wrong side of the bed. Muttering a string of curses under his breath, he yanked the curtains open—and there it was. That godforsaken city was staring right back at him.
I hate this, he thought. He hated the city. Hated the whole damn country.
Dragging himself to the sink, he splashed cold water on his face. A knock at the bathroom door. His sister was inside, applying her makeup as she always did.
“Off to see that bastard again?” he muttered.
He couldn’t stand the guy, but whatever. He’d learned to let things slide. She was an adult.
Who she sleeps with isn’t my business, he reminded himself. I already taught her what she needed to know back then.
His sister was cursing him in her head.
Still can’t get over that bitch Burcu, can he? And now he’ll take it out on me—some brother. Spends the whole summer doing nothing, just wandering around. With that mindset, no wonder he keeps getting cheated on. Deserves it, anyway.
She stepped out of the bathroom. Just then, their mother called out for breakfast.
“It’s ready!” she shouted from the kitchen.
She sat down at the table. Of course, all the food was what her brother liked. Their mom always favored him.
Her precious son… as if nothing else matters in the world.
She hated her mother, too.
A backward old hag, she thought. She never got to live her life, so now she wants to cage me in instead.
Her brother joined them at the table, looking a little more cheerful now.
“Thanks, Mom! Smells great,” he said with a grin.
Their mother beamed at him.
The girl felt sick to her stomach.
These fake manners of theirs… make me want to puke. Like the old hag did anything impressive anyway. She scarfed down her food and got the hell out of there.
There wasn’t much time left until the café. Her heart was pounding. She and the guy had texted all night. Today, she looked her best—she showered early and picked out the right outfit. She could feel it. They were definitely going to have sex today.
Her libido had been through the roof lately, and she craved him badly. With those thoughts swirling in her mind, she reached the meeting spot.
He was already there, standing and waiting.
Something’s off, she thought.
He gave her a long, piercing look.
“So, you showed up.”
The way he said it hit something inside her she couldn’t quite describe. Her smile faltered.
She almost asked, Are you okay? but held back.
Instead, she forced a smile and said,
“How do I look? You like this style?”
He sighed, eyes tired.
“What’s with all the makeup and dressing up? What’s the point?”
She looked at him, confused.
Then he added flatly,
“Let’s not drag this out. I’m ending it. I’m bored. I’ve had enough fun.”
She couldn’t believe her ears but he didn’t stop. He kept tearing into her, crushing her piece by piece.
“You seriously thought I wanted something real with you? Please. You probably got off just thinking about me. Pathetic.”
He scoffed.
“You’re one of the most hollow, worthless girls I’ve ever met. I don’t have time for someone like you. I’ve got things to work on. Big steps to take. You? You’re stuck in this pit of self-hate. You smile at me like everything’s fine, but you despise your own family. You complain about your life but do nothing to fix it—and you dump all of it on someone you’ve only known for two weeks. It’s sad, honestly.”
He paused, his tone now colder than before.
“These two weeks? That was enough fun for me. A lesson learned. And a valuable one.”
“I’m disgusted by you,” he said flatly, then gave a small wave and walked away.
She stood frozen, like a statue. Her pride shattered. Rage welled up in her chest, and tears poured down her face.
A guy nearby, seeing her upset, stepped closer and asked, “Are you okay?”
She shoved him aside.
“Get the hell away from me!” she snapped. Then she turned and ran—straight toward the bus stop.
At the bus stop, people were standing around, smoking and chatting.
Keep poisoning yourselves, she thought bitterly.
She just wanted to get home and lock herself in her room. Maybe a good porn video would help clear her head—she hadn’t watched anything in a while. Yes, a little dopamine rush sounded necessary right now.
Next to her, a boy and a girl had been deep in conversation for a while.
What could they possibly be talking about for so long? she wondered. The boy was describing the last book he’d read, and the girl listened with shining eyes, nodding, offering thoughts of her own. The way she looked at him—it was obvious she was in love. Hanging onto every word.
The girl watching them felt a surge of disgust. Or was it jealousy? Probably both.
The boy wasn’t tall or particularly handsome, but he had something.
The girl beside him was pretty in an unremarkable way. Natural. No makeup, no nail polish. But she had a beautiful pair of earrings.
Even her earrings are nicer than mine, she thought bitterly.
“I hate this,” she muttered to herself.
Still wrapped in these thoughts, she boarded the bus.
From a seat behind her, an older man was watching her with narrowed eyes.
Look at the way she walks. Must be one of those girls, he thought.
God help her parents. Kids these days have no shame.
He glanced around. So many foreigners around too. How is she not afraid? With a sigh, he pulled out his phone.
Started scrolling through Facebook, grumbling at headlines, complaining about immigrants under his breath. His bitterness was its own kind of poison.
Then he switched to Instagram. He hadn’t quite gotten the hang of it yet, having only just made an account. A young woman popped up on his screen. She looked cheerful and carefree. Pretty.
He was a widower. “Maybe I’ll message her. Try to seem kind, he thought, maybe she’ll respond. Maybe I’ll get lucky.“
Two university students stood chatting near the bus stop.
“Look at that old guy over there,” one of them said, his voice laced with contempt. “A walking stereotype. Probably votes for you know who.“
The other laughed. “These old folks just refuse to die off. If only we could get rid of them, maybe this country could finally breathe. They’re useless, really—just leeching off the system and flirting with girls half their age.”
“This whole nation’s a joke,” the first one added. “Europe isn’t like this. I wish I’d been born there. I hate this place. I hate it in ways you couldn’t even understand. These people lost their chance with me in the last election. I owe no one anything.”
A voice came from behind. Calm, yet sharp.
“You really think you’re smart, huh?” said a boy standing a few feet away. “A couple of books and a superiority complex—that’s all it takes now? Are you bored of tearing others down yet? What’s with the inferiority complex disguised as intellect? As if you’re the next genius out of MIT.”
He shook his head.
“You know the vinegar proverb? The sharper it gets, the more it eats through its own jar. That’s what you’re doing with all this hate. Ever thought about that?”
Before he could finish, one of the guys threw a punch square at his jaw.
A storm broke out. Shouts, curses, fists. People tried to intervene, pulling them apart as the bus arrived amidst the chaos.
She watched, silently.
I hate this, she thought. Look at the mess. Look at me, and look at them. What a bunch of idiots.
A few streets away, a young man sipped his coffee, watching the rain from the café window.
Look at what I’m reading, he thought. The same tired madness. When will we ever learn? When will we break this cycle of hate?
Probably never, he admitted to himself.
People can’t even say ‘I don’t know’ without shame anymore. We’ve built a culture of certainty and blame.
His girlfriend leaned into him, wrapping her arms around his shoulder. Together, they watched the rain fall.
He smiled softly. He was playing his role well. Because he knew she was cheating on him. And he, too, was full of hate. And he, too, would have his revenge.
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