She was back to her core with that bad dream she saw

She was thinking while leaning her head against the window and watching the falling snow. Trying to warm up from the mug in which he put a cup of tea that warms him in the cold house. Each falling snowflake was dragging him to different years and different dreams. She wanted an imaginary home, even if it wasn't the fairy tale house with pink shutters and flower curtains. A home that smells like bread, where happy children run around, the smell of hot food emanates from the bubbling pot.

He thought back to the day they met his wife. How they had just stared in surprise when they realized that they liked the same poem. Kemal used to read a poem to her every day. In styles he never heard from poets he had never heard of. However, he would lean on his shoulder and listen to his wife's voice as if he was reading it for the first time, even though he had read the same poem hundreds of times. Then they got married and overcame the difficulties. They forgot both poetry and literature while dealing with the bread case when they got involved with the children.

One more child, one child, one more child, and then he couldn't pick up a book and read. Eat, drink, wash-iron, cook, collect. All his days passed like this. Kemal was returning from work late and tired. He used to fall asleep while watching the news.

When the children were asleep and hands were gone, and the work was done, he would stay on his own. In the house of the night, in your own house. Those were the hours when he was happiest. But unfortunately, he was asleep early because of the tiredness of running all day. Such a monton was in life. Each day passed as if it was a copy of the other. He was so bored.

Again, on one of these monotonous days, he had finished his work and made coffee for himself to breathe. Sugar-free, foamy and double. He took a few sips when he was startled by the doorbell ringing. He was not expecting anyone. Who could have come?

When she opened the door, there was a beautiful blonde woman standing in front of her. She returned to the room and sat down, sipping their coffee, and she began to speak in a voice that harmonized with the grace of her body. He hadn't even asked his name yet.

Cup in my hand, I was frozen in my eyes. "Who was this woman and what was she going to tell me?" I was impatiently waiting for his speech. I took a sip of my coffee and inhaled that sweet smell.

The woman began to explain as if she had been waiting for this moment. She was smitten when she told her about their first encounter with her husband, what they did together, and the last time she was pregnant. She realized too late that this beautiful and charming woman, whose name she did not even know and whom she had not seen until today, was talking about her own husband, and her first words were "You left my house immediately." had happened.

After the woman left, he stayed for a while, his arm was broken, his arms lost their function, his brain stopped. I guess he had no working limbs, save for his pounding heart and his eyes that were weeping all the time. After crying a lot, she went to the kitchen to cook because the children's arrival time was approaching. She shouldn't show her sadness to her children.

How she trusted him, how she loved him. She had given up her career for him and became the woman of his house. She couldn't understand how she could do this to him.

A resounding sound broke out deeply. The voice was getting louder, he wanted to lift his head, but he couldn't. She forced herself, opened her eyes. "Mom, get up, we're late for school," she was saying in front of the three little shes. Jumping out of bed, she immediately turned off the alarm clock. He ran and washed his hands and face, and washed it again. She couldn't come to her senses. She looked in the mirror and combed her hair. She went to the kitchen and poured the tea.

What kind of a dream did he have? as if real. He sent the children to school, cleared the table and went to the right hairdresser. She wasn't going to let what she dreamed happen to her. As she sat there she studied the job postings. She did some shopping, too.

When she returned home in the evening, she was sitting at the table as a stylish, well-groomed business woman. She had been stripped of the submissive spirit with that bad dream, she had returned to her essence.