SAME STORY

Ayla dialed Taner’s number again, though she had already kept him on the phone for ages. She had lost count of how many times she’d called. Inside, she was a storm of nerves, yet from the outside—her hair freshly done, her makeup flawless, her outfit sharp—she looked composed, sitting behind the wheel. Knowing deep down another call would change nothing, she instead opened the secret tracking app she had installed on his phone. He wasn’t at the office. His location showed an address she didn’t recognize.

The address led her to an upscale restaurant. The moment she walked in, she knew she was stepping straight into one of the dreadful scenes that had been playing in her mind all day. Her heartbeat thundered, panic rising like a wave ready to drown her. She scanned the room, table by table, until her gaze froze: at the far end of the long bar, a man sat close, cheek to cheek, with a blonde woman. She instantly recognized the back of his head—it was Taner.

So it’s true! she thought. He swore he wouldn’t do this again. Look at him—so attentive, so flirtatious. She must be young; of course he’s fallen for her. Is she beautiful too?

Those tender looks—he had never given them to her. Didn’t he look at me like that once, back when he was trying to win me over? Is he whispering the same lines to her now?

Her thoughts tumbled over each other. What should I do? March up there and expose them both? Call him again? Sit down right in front of him without a word? Or should I just turn around and walk away…

Standing there, watching them, Ayla lost all sense of time. The sight of them flirting tore her apart, yet she couldn’t move, couldn’t look away. She wished it was only a nightmare. She would have given every piece of gold, everything she owned, just for Taner to regret it and come running back to her… It should have been her sitting there—especially today, her birthday. She had spent the whole day preparing for the evening, expecting Taner to surprise her. She had even guessed what the gift might be, retouched her makeup, wanting to please him. And Taner had indeed surprised her—but in a way far more devastating than she ever imagined.

Guided by the waiter, she sat down at a table and asked for a glass of water. She tried to think straight, but her memory seemed to betray her; she couldn’t recall how they had made it through such moments before. When the water arrived, she drank deeply, even splashing some onto her neck and hair, as if to wake herself. A fragile calm returned. She studied the woman beside Taner, instinctively comparing herself: She’s so lively, she must do Pilates or some kind of workout. I never manage that… I should book a massage. My hair is too dark; maybe that shade of blonde would suit me too. My skin needs a facial—I should get Botox; I’ve neglected it too long. Of course Taner wouldn’t want me to look old, dull, neglected. I need new clothes, something that would catch his eye…

She realized she was talking to herself again. I’m going crazy, she thought, as she stood abruptly, knocking her glass to the floor. The crash made Taner turn. For a split second, their eyes met. But the man she loved only gave her a look filled with reproach—cold, crushing—before turning away. And in that moment, Ayla understood: neither beauty, nor money, nor all the comforts Taner had provided made her valuable in his eyes.

She had kept him close in the only way she thought possible: through resources. More and more resources. Spending endlessly to meet his demands. She had ignored the many voices warning her she was making a mistake. She had silenced them, even grown angry with them. Now, knowing they had been right only deepened her pain. She had been blind to what they had seen so clearly. How did I not see? How did I not understand?

She somehow made it home, though she couldn’t recall the drive or how she walked through the door. Her mind was blank. With a strange, mechanical calm, she packed a suitcase for Taner, carried it to the building’s entrance, and called a locksmith.

If not for that look, perhaps she could have endured it. But in that single glance—in that moment—she saw her worthlessness reflected back. Now she understood: when a heart is wounded so deeply, it becomes possible to burn every bridge and simply walk away. She wept, fell silent, then wept again. The door shook with pounding, as if it would splinter. Still, she couldn’t rise to open it. She had no strength. She only listened to the insults hurled at her. The humiliation burned—neighbors must have heard—but she remained frozen, crying.

This too will pass, she told herself. Like everything else, this will end…

Since the beginning of humanity, Our greatest friend and enemy has remained the same: The person in the mirror...

"Experiential Design Teaching" is dedicated to help humans discover their true purpose. It guides people toward open consciousness to make better decisions and choices. It offers strategies for real solutions to real problems.

The programs that begin with “Who’s Who,” followed by “Mastery in Relationships” and “The Psychology of Success,” aim to help people become happier and more successful compared to their past selves.