"You think you’re being strong by staying silent," Ebru said, her voice rich and resonant. "But 'İçime Ata Ata'—throwing it all inside—is just a slow way to drown. You’re building a dam against a river that’s already overflown."
By the time the last note faded, the sun was beginning to bleed over the Bosphorus. Burak stood up, his shoulders lighter for the first time since he could remember. He hadn't forgotten the pain, but he was no longer its graveyard. "You think you’re being strong by staying silent,"
He didn't scream or cry. Instead, he began to sing. The lyrics were a confession of every regret, every lost love, and every "what if" he had ever stifled. The tavern transformed from a prison of silence into a cathedral of sound. As the three voices intertwined, the burden didn't disappear, but it finally had a place to live outside of his chest. Burak stood up, his shoulders lighter for the