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The tea in Selim’s glass was the exact color of the sunset—a deep, bruised crimson. He sat on a weathered wooden stool at a small café in , the kind of place where the waiters don’t rush you because they know you’re there to solve the world’s problems, or perhaps just your own.

Selim looked back at the water. He felt like those currents—his past pulling him toward the safety of the shore, his future dragging him toward the unknown depths of the sea. Watch b0Дџazda

The woman smiled, a map of wrinkles crinkling around her eyes. "You don't follow either. You are the Bosphorus, son. You are the place where they meet. Just stay steady, and let the world move through you." The tea in Selim’s glass was the exact