HIS BED

Chapter 1 — The New Tenant

Zeynep never expected silence to feel this heavy.

The apartment had looked perfect in the photos, which was exactly why she had chosen it. After three exhausting weeks of apartment hunting, endless calls, overpriced rentals, and disappointing viewings, she had stopped looking for perfection. Perfect didn't exist in Istanbul unless you were willing to pay a ridiculous amount of money. This place had seemed different. The rent was reasonable, the location was good, the interior was clean, and there were no strange roommates or hidden surprises. At least, that was what she had thought.

Now, standing just inside the doorway with her suitcase beside her, she wasn't so sure.

The apartment was beautiful. Beautiful enough to belong in a magazine. Clean lines, modern furniture, and soft lighting gave the space an expensive elegance without feeling excessive. Everything looked carefully chosen, as if every object had been placed exactly where it belonged. Nothing felt accidental, and somehow that unsettled her. The entire place felt too controlled, too perfect, like someone had erased every trace of chaos from their life.

Zeynep slowly stepped farther inside. The apartment smelled faintly of coffee and something darker she couldn't identify. Wood, maybe. Or expensive cologne. Whatever it was, it lingered in the air.

The large windows overlooking the city immediately caught her attention. The skyline stretched endlessly beyond the glass, disappearing into the afternoon haze. Most people would have fallen in love with the apartment instantly. Zeynep should have been one of them.

Instead, she found herself noticing how quiet everything was.

There was no television playing in the background. No music. No distant sounds coming from another room. The silence seemed to occupy the apartment as much as the furniture did. It was a ridiculous thought, yet the feeling refused to leave.

She exhaled slowly and continued exploring the living room. The furniture was expensive but surprisingly simple—a dark sofa, a glass coffee table, and bookshelves holding only a handful of books. Everything looked organized. Almost obsessively so.

What drew her attention wasn't what she saw.

It was what she didn't.

There were no family photographs, no framed memories, no personal decorations, and no evidence that anyone actually lived there. The apartment felt strangely detached, like a luxury hotel suite someone had occupied for years without ever unpacking emotionally. It was a place designed for comfort rather than connection.

The thought made her smile to herself.

Maybe she was overthinking.

She had spent the last month stressed, moving from one temporary solution to another. Her old lease had ended unexpectedly, and finding something affordable hadn't exactly been easy. Maybe she was simply tired. Maybe that was all.

Then she heard the front door open behind her.

The sound immediately pulled her from her thoughts. Her body stiffened before she could stop herself.

She turned.

A man stood in the doorway.

He was tall, completely still, and watching her with an unreadable expression. For a brief second, neither of them spoke.

Zeynep had expected many things when moving into a shared apartment. Awkward introductions. Polite small talk. Questions. Maybe even suspicion.

She had not expected this.

The man looked completely unbothered by finding a stranger standing in the middle of his apartment. Most people would have looked surprised. At least a little.

He didn't.

Dark clothes. Dark eyes. A calm expression that revealed absolutely nothing.

He had the kind of face people remembered, not because he was trying to intimidate anyone, but because he seemed impossible to surprise. Impossible to read. And somehow, that was worse.

The silence stretched between them. Comfortable for him. Increasingly uncomfortable for her.

Finally, he spoke.

"This is my home."

His voice was low and controlled. Not loud. Not aggressive. Yet it carried a quiet authority that made people pay attention without realizing they were doing it.

Zeynep folded her arms instinctively.

"I'm your new tenant."

The answer sounded more confident than she felt.

His gaze remained on her. Not in a flirtatious way. Not in a rude way. It felt more like he was gathering information. The suitcase. The posture. The hesitation she was trying to hide.

For some reason, she had the uncomfortable feeling that he noticed everything.

Every detail.

Every reaction.

Every uncertainty.

The realization made her unexpectedly self-conscious.

Then something shifted.

A faint expression crossed his face. Recognition. As though something had just confirmed itself. The moment passed almost immediately before he nodded once.

"You arrived earlier than expected."

The comment caught her off guard.

She blinked.

"Was I supposed to schedule my entrance?"

A brief pause followed.

"No."

The answer came so seriously that she couldn't tell whether it was meant to be funny. Somehow, that made it worse.

God.

The man was strange.

The silence returned.

Zeynep glanced around the apartment again before looking back at him. The feeling from earlier returned immediately. Something was off. Not dangerous. Not exactly. Just unusual. Like she had stepped into a story halfway through and somehow missed the beginning.

The sensation lingered.

Then he spoke again.

"You should know the rule."

Her eyebrows immediately pulled together.

"Rule?"

His expression didn't change. His gaze remained steady and unmoving. For one strange second, she wondered whether previous tenants had heard the exact same sentence. Whether he always started this way. Whether there had been others.

Then he answered.

"I don't sleep alone."

The room went completely silent.

For a moment, Zeynep thought she had misunderstood him. The city disappeared. The apartment disappeared. Even her own thoughts seemed to stop.

She stared at him, waiting for the smile, the joke, the punchline—anything that would suggest he understood how completely insane that sounded.

Nothing came.

His expression never changed.

Her first instinct was to laugh.

Her second was to grab her suitcase and leave immediately.

Unfortunately, she was too confused to do either.

"You're joking."

The words slipped out automatically, hopeful and almost desperate.

The man held her gaze for one long second. Then another. Then another.

Long enough to make her regret asking.

Finally, he answered.

"No."