Asma, I'll ask you for the one last time. Where is Layla?" asked a female student with a threatening tone, her eyes narrowed dangerously.
Two other students each grabbed Asma's arms tightly, making it impossible for her to escape. The restroom echoed with the tension.
"I said I don't know," Asma replied, her voice shaky but firm. "I've been trying to reach her for a week now, but her phone won't go through."
"Sarah, I told you she won't come. Maybe she changed schools already. How can a weakling like that dare to challenge you to a fight?" said Lena, one of the girls restraining Asma, smirking with disdain.
"Mhh! Then she's smart," Sarah snorted coldly, her lips curling in satisfaction. She believed without a doubt that Layla had run away in fear, transferring to another school to avoid her.
"Layla is many things," Asma spoke up, her voice rising in defiance, "but a coward isn't one of them."
PA! A loud slap echoed in the restroom. Lena's hand left a red imprint on Asma's cheek.
"How dare you speak to Sarah like that? Even your boss Layla has to be respectful to our Sarah. You're just an insignificant nobody, and you have the nerve to boast in front of us?" Lena hissed.
Sarah smirked. "Release her. I give you till Monday. When you come to school then, make sure you know where Layla is. If she changed schools because she's a coward, I need to know."
With that, the three girls walked out, leaving Asma alone in the quiet restroom. The door creaked shut behind them.
Asma slowly moved toward the mirror, her reflection showing the fresh bruise forming at the side of her mouth. She touched it gently, wincing at the pain. Her hand trembled slightly as she reached for her cellphone from her pocket.
She dialed Layla's number again.
The phone rang once and then went directly to voicemail, just like it had the past few days.
"What happened to you, Layla?" she muttered, worry clouding her eyes. Her fingers gripped the sink tightly.
...
At the hospital...
"Mom," Layla called out weakly as her eyes fluttered open. Her voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper.
Elif Aksoy, Layla's mother, was sitting by her daughter's bedside, her eyes swollen from days of crying. At the sound of her daughter's voice, her body froze. She blinked, not believing what she was seeing.
"Layla... you're awake?"
The disbelief only lasted a second before emotion overwhelmed her. Elif burst into tears, staggering toward the bed. She reached out, but her hands hovered in the air, afraid that a tight hug might hurt Layla's frail body.
"Layla, you're awake. You're finally awake."
"Mom, I'm awake," Layla said gently, reaching out and taking her mother's hand in hers, trying to comfort her.
"Right, right… What a relief. You're finally awake," Elif sobbed, clutching her daughter's hand tightly as if afraid Layla might disappear again.
The room filled with emotions too heavy for words. For Elif, this was nothing short of a miracle. The doctor had said there was congestion in Layla's brain. Surgery was the only hope, yet here she was—awake, on her own.
"I'll go find the doctor!" Elif exclaimed suddenly, remembering the urgency. She wiped her tears and hurried out of the room.
Before long, the doctor arrived with Elif, his face etched with disbelief and amazement.
"This is incredible," he muttered, examining Layla. "But we still need to perform comprehensive tests to ensure everything is functioning properly."
He ordered immediate examinations. Layla was moved carefully to different rooms in the hospital for scans and diagnostics. Her vitals were monitored, her reflexes tested, her brain activity closely observed.
After the exams were completed, Elif went to get food for her daughter, finally allowing herself to breathe. Emre, Layla's younger brother, remained by her side.
Layla lay in bed, her eyes drifting to the ceiling. Her mind was no longer foggy. In fact, it was clearer than ever.
She remembered.
She had been at the beach with Emre. The sun was high, and the ocean breeze was refreshing. They had laughed and played in the waves. She swam further than usual.
Then she felt it.
Something pulled her down. A strong current? A force?
She couldn't fight it. It dragged her into the deep.
Underwater, she remembered seeing a woman. A breathtakingly beautiful woman, pale and weak-looking, floating gracefully with an ethereal glow. The woman reached out and took Layla's hand.
Then everything went black.
"Sister Layla," Emre said suddenly, drawing her out of the memory. "It's strange. How is it possible that you drowned? You've always been a great swimmer, even when we were kids."
He frowned. "I looked for you for twenty minutes. You weren't anywhere near the place we were swimming. How could you just disappear like that?"
Layla looked at him, her eyes haunted. "I... don't know."
It was the truth. She had no explanation. Only fragments of a memory that made no sense.
Soon, Elif returned with food. She fed Layla gently, overwhelmed with joy and relief. Layla ate heartily, her appetite returning after days of unconsciousness.
After the meal, Elif spoke to her daughter about the things she missed, about how everyone was praying, about how the doctors had almost lost hope. She caressed Layla's hair lovingly.
"You should rest now," Elif said, standing up. But she couldn't leave. She was too afraid something might happen again.
Eventually, her exhaustion caught up to her. She fell asleep on the visitor chair beside Layla's bed.
Layla didn't feel like sleeping. Her mind was alert, almost too alert.
She looked around and spotted a book on the bedside table. She reached for it. It was a business book—one of those thick, dry ones filled with charts and economic terms.
She began flipping through it absentmindedly.
But something happened.
She understood it.
With each glance, each sentence she skimmed, she not only read it—she comprehended it deeply. The graphs made sense, the terminologies clicked, and the formulas were easy.
She read the entire book in five minutes.
Five.
And when she was done, she realized—she understood it better than the person who wrote it.
Her eyes widened. She felt her heartbeat race.
This couldn't be real.
She—Layla Aksoy—who had always been called the "Beauty with a Chicken Brain," who had ranked among the bottom ten in her class since primary school, who was admired only for her looks—was now absorbing knowledge like a sponge.
She was no genius. She knew it. She had struggled with school her whole life.
And yet… here she was.
Was she dreaming?
She placed the book down slowly, her fingers trembling.
Something changed.
Something changed in that moment underwater.
The pale woman.
The touch.
The memory.
What did she do to me? Layla wondered, looking at her hands. They felt the same, but something inside her was different.
She turned to look at her mother sleeping peacefully and then at her brother dozing off in the corner chair.
Layla knew her life would never be the same again.
Whatever had happened to her at that beach wasn't normal.
It wasn't just a near-drowning experience.
It was the beginning of something much, much bigger.
And deep down, Layla felt it.
.