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Elias sat on the edge of the abandoned lighthouse, the cold Aegean wind whipping around him, doing nothing to numb the ache in his chest. Below him, the sea was an unforgiving grey. He held a small, weathered leather notebook—the only thing left of Leyla.

Elias closed the notebook, took a deep breath, and finally let the tears fall, feeling the heavy, cold weight in his chest break into a thousand pieces. Yes. It was finally beating again. Duygun AtarmД± Bu Kalp

Elias looked at the ink, blurry from rain and age. He hadn't felt true joy or sorrow since that day. He had lived in a monotone gray existence. Elias sat on the edge of the abandoned