The Calm Before The Strom
The first light of dawn slowly spread across the mountains of eastern Türkiye.
A cool breeze carried the fresh scent of pine trees through the quiet town. Birds sang softly while tiny drops of rain rested on the leaves, shining like little crystals.
Anaiza Yılmaz stood on the wooden balcony of her small home, her eyes fixed on the cloudy sky.
A gentle smile appeared on her face.
“It might rain today.”
She whispered the words to herself as if greeting an old friend.
She had always loved the rain.
It reminded her that even the darkest clouds eventually brought mercy.
She wrapped both hands around a warm cup of black coffee. She never added sugar. The bitter taste helped her think clearly.
On the small table beside her rested a glass vase filled with fresh white roses.
Her grandmother replaced them every Friday.
Anaiza gently touched one of the petals.
“They’re beautiful, Nene.”
A warm voice came from inside the house.
“They remind me of you.”
Anaiza turned with a soft laugh.
Her grandmother, Fatma Yılmaz, walked into the room carrying a freshly baked chocolate cake.
“I knew you would skip breakfast again,” Fatma said with a knowing smile.
Anaiza smiled innocently.
“I wasn’t planning to.”
“You were.”
“I was thinking about it.”
Fatma shook her head.
“Thinking too much is your biggest habit.”
“And yours?”
“Loving you too much.”
Anaiza laughed quietly before helping her grandmother place the cake on the dining table.
The house was simple but warm. Family photographs covered one wall. A small bookshelf stood beside the window, filled with books about history, languages, and faith.
It was peaceful.
A peace Anaiza rarely found outside these walls.
Fatma poured tea for herself while Anaiza cut two small slices of chocolate cake.
“You remembered.”
“I always remember.”
Fatma smiled.
“You’ve loved chocolate cake since you were little.”
Anaiza took a small bite and closed her eyes for a second.
“It’s perfect.”
“I know.”
The older woman watched her granddaughter carefully.
“You haven’t been sleeping well.”
Anaiza looked away.
“It’s only work.”
“You always say that.”
“It is true.”
Fatma reached across the table and gently held her hand.
“My dear...”
“...no matter how dark the road becomes, never let your heart leave Allah.”
Anaiza lowered her eyes respectfully.
“I won’t.”
“I know you won’t.”
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
The silence between them was peaceful, not empty.
A few drops of rain suddenly tapped against the window.
Anaiza looked outside immediately.
“It’s starting.”
Without thinking, she stepped onto the porch.
The cool rain touched her face.
She closed her eyes and breathed deeply.
Every mission...
Every secret...
Every burden...
For a few quiet moments, they all disappeared beneath the sound of falling rain.
Inside the house, Fatma watched her with a gentle smile.
“She still finds happiness in the smallest blessings,” she whispered.
A sharp vibration broke the silence.
Anaiza’s phone.
She looked at the screen.
Unknown Number.
Her expression changed instantly.
The peaceful granddaughter disappeared.
Captain Anaiza Yılmaz returned.
She answered calmly.
“Captain Yılmaz speaking.”
A serious male voice came through the phone.
“Emergency briefing.”
Her eyes became sharp.
“Location?”
“Ankara Headquarters.”
“Mission Level?”
A brief pause.
“Black Priority.”
Anaiza’s face remained calm, but her heart knew one thing.
Black Priority missions were never ordinary.
“I’ll be there within three hours.”
The call ended.
She slipped the phone into her coat and looked once more at the rain falling over the mountains.
She had a feeling.
This mission would change everything.
She just didn’t know...
...that somewhere in Sicily, Italy, another person was about to receive a call that would alter his life as well.
And neither of them knew that fate had already begun writing their story.
