zchraa

[zchraa]

Zehra: I believe you on that front. Zehra: Easy answer. We were just talking about him. Zehra: Perfect example right there. Don't trust no bitch 🤣 Zehra: Hmm, is there something you wanted to do that you never got around to? @buddywellls

Buddy: Wouldn't even break a sweat. Buddy: Okay, let's start off moderately easy. Buddy: What is the hardest way you’ve learned an important lesson? @zchraa

[zchraa]

Zehra sighed, rolling her eyes at the judgment laced in Ela’s voice. “No, not Esma,” she said, giving her little sister a pointed look. “You can relax.” She knew why Ela always asked, why the name came up like a ghost neither of them could exorcise, but she wasn’t about to sit here and defend herself. Not tonight.

She leaned back, stretching her legs out as she swirled the drink in her hand. “It was different this time,” she admitted, her voice quieter. “No complicated past, no years of bad decisions tangled up in it. Just… something simple.” Her lips quirked in a half-smile, self-deprecating as always. “Not that I expect you to be impressed, but hey, baby steps, right?”

@elaxkaya

She smirked, sitting up straighter. “Might have?” she repeated, her tone laced with amusement. “That’s a pretty weak attempt at downplaying it.” Her eyes scanned Zehra’s face, catching the subtle signs—hesitation, maybe a little guilt, but also something softer, something Ela wasn’t used to seeing so clearly.

Ela set her phone aside, crossing one leg over the other. “Was it Esma again?” She tilted her head slightly, judgement cleat in her voice. @zchraa

[zchraa]

Zehra let out a quiet laugh, resting her chin on her hand as she studied him. “I don’t think I’ve ever balanced anything perfectly in my life,” she admitted, a small smirk tugging at her lips. “I just pretend I have it together and hope no one looks too closely.” Her gaze flicked to the books he had so casually dismissed, amusement lingering in her expression. “But I get it. Sometimes, getting lost in the vibe is just as important as the work itself. Maybe procrastination has its own kind of creativity.”

She tilted her head slightly, considering his words. “Though, if I did have a secret, I’d say it’s accepting that chaos is part of the process. Some of my best paintings happened when I wasn’t trying so hard, when I let the mess take over.” Her lips curved into a knowing smile. “So maybe you’re onto something. Just don’t let the coffee be the only thing keeping you going.” She shrugged softly. "Besides, it helps that art comes whenever it wants to."

@masoncambridge

Mason chuckled at Zehra’s words, his eyes briefly darting to the stack of books and papers before meeting her gaze. “You’re probably right about the procrastination. Divine inspiration? That’s something I’m still waiting on, but no rush. It’s definitely not coming anytime soon.” He shrugged, leaning back in his chair with a relaxed grin. “This place does have that vibe, though. You know, that weird mix of quiet energy and a million distractions, but somehow, it works.”

He glanced at the pile of work in front of him, a small smirk forming. “I’d say I’m more ‘getting lost in the vibe’ than anything else. Sometimes, a little avoidance isn’t the worst thing—gives the brain a chance to reset. But yeah, I guess you could call it a distraction, if you wanted to be blunt about it.” He met her eyes, his smile widening slightly. “Though, who’s to say I’m not working in my own way? Sometimes the best ideas come from taking a break, right?”

Leaning forward a bit, he lowered his voice just slightly, adding with a teasing edge, “But, hey, maybe you’re right. Maybe I’m just trying to avoid whatever’s on my to-do list. Doesn’t make me a bad person, though… just a person who needs a good cup of coffee and a solid distraction every now and then.” He waved his hand over the books like they were nothing but props in a much larger game. "You know, balancing work with some much-needed chaos." Then he tilted his head, letting a more genuine curiosity shine through. “But what about you? You’ve got a vibe of someone who knows exactly how to balance work and… well, whatever else you’re up to. What’s your secret?”

[zchraa]

We'd always go into it blindly / I needed to lose you to find me / This dancing was killing me softly / I needed to hate you to love me

@esmaxdemirci

[zchraa]

Zehra barely breathed as Esma’s words hit her, each syllable striking like a lash, stripping away whatever fragile defenses she had left. It wasn’t that she hadn’t expected anger… God, she deserved it, but the way Esma said her name, the finality in it hurt her beyond what she thought she could handle.

She wanted to fight it, to insist that she did hear herself, that she knew how unfair it was to stand here and say she’d still drop everything for Esma when the past said otherwise. But what good would that do? Words had never been enough between them, not when it mattered.

Esma’s laugh, bitter and sharp, echoed in Zehra’s head as she forced herself to meet her gaze, though it hurt to hold it. You don’t get to play the martyr. Maybe Esma was right. Maybe Zehra had been trying to reshape the past into something easier to carry, convincing herself that the weight she bore meant something, meant anything, if it could prove she had loved Esma as much as she said she did.

Her fingers trembled as she curled them into fists, nails pressing into her palms as if pain could keep her grounded. “You think I don’t sit with it?” she asked, her voice quieter than Esma’s but no less raw. “You think I don’t wake up every single day knowing that I destroyed everything we had?” Her throat tightened as she inhaled shakily. “I don’t get to rewrite history, Esma. I don’t want to. I just—” She swallowed hard, shaking her head. “I just wanted to matter to you. Even after everything.”

She saw the way Esma’s breath hitched for half a second, the smallest crack in the rage, but it wasn’t enough to change anything. They had passed the point of return long ago, and Zehra knew it.

So she nodded, once, slow and deliberate. “Fine,” she whispered, the word barely there. “We’re done. I won’t try and convince you of my feelings because I know they wouldn’t matter you anymore.”

But the truth was, she wasn’t sure she’d ever really be done with Esma. Not in the way Esma wanted. Not in the way that would make it hurt any less.

@esmaxdemirci

Esma’s jaw clenched, her fingers curling at her sides as she took a step closer, her eyes burning with something dangerously close to fury. “You don’t get to say that,” she snapped, voice sharp, cutting. “You don’t get to stand there and act like you were the only one left in the wreckage, like I chose to walk away without a second thought. Do you even hear yourself?”

She let out a humorless laugh, shaking her head. “You talk about guilt like it’s some kind of badge of honor, like you waking up every day feeling bad about what you did somehow evens the score. But it doesn’t. You made the choices, Zehra. You did what you did, and I had to live with the fallout, too. So don’t stand here acting like I was the one who abandoned you.”

Esma’s breath was coming quicker now, her emotions spiraling past the point of control. “You would’ve listened?” she repeated, eyes flashing. “No, Zehra, you would’ve argued. You would’ve made excuses. You always did. You would've found some way to make it about how we were both suffering, how we both had something to lose, but the truth is, you had the power. And you chose.”

Her hands shook at her sides, but she didn’t back down, didn’t soften. “You say you’d still drop everything for me? That’s not devotion, Zehra. That’s just you trying to rewrite the past so you don’t have to sit with what you did.” She exhaled sharply, her voice dipping lower, raw with anger. “You don’t get to play the martyr. Not with me. Not after everything. We are done here.” @zchraa

[zchraa]

Zehra’s fingers curled into fists at her sides, her nails pressing into her palms as Esma’s words sank in. Her chest tightened, the weight of everything they had been, everything they had lost, threatening to crush her. “You think I don’t know that?” she shot back, her voice shaking. “You think I don’t wake up every damn day carrying the guilt of what we did? Of what I did?” Her breath hitched, but she refused to let herself break, not now.

She took a step forward, her gaze locking onto Esma’s, searching for something, anything, that wasn’t just anger or pain. “I wasn’t the only one who got hurt, but I was the one left behind. You got to walk away. You got to pretend it never happened, but I lived in it. I had to grieve you in silence, had to learn how to exist without you while knowing you were out there, choosing not to be in my life.” Zehra exhaled sharply, shaking her head. “And now you stand here telling me that I broke you? That you were the one who suffered the most?”

She let out a hollow laugh, more bitter than anything. “I would’ve listened, Esma. I would’ve done anything to make it right. But you never gave me that chance.” Zehra’s voice cracked. “You say you couldn’t lose yourself for me again, but what do you think I did for you? Every time we were together, I was tearing myself apart just to have you for those stolen moments.” She swallowed hard, not able to bring herself to look into Esma’s eyes. “And I’d still do it again, if you asked me to. That’s the fucked up part in all of this right?” She spat bitterly, shaking her head. “The most fucked up part in all of this is that I’d drop everything for you any time you wanted.”

@esmaxdemirci

Esma’s jaw tightened as Zehra’s words hit her, the weight of them igniting something raw and defensive inside her. She crossed her arms, a sharp edge cutting into her voice as she replied. “Do you think this is easy for me?” she snapped, her gaze hardening as she fought the swirl of emotions clawing at her chest. “You talk like I’m the only one who made mistakes, like I’m the villain here, but you—Zehra, you’re not blameless in this.” She took a step back, running a hand through her hair in frustration, her voice rising despite herself. “You’re sitting here telling me how heartbroken you are, how I hurt you, and maybe I did. Fine. But do you ever stop to think about how you made me feel?"

Esma's felt it wasn't all her fault and Zehra needed to take some responsibility here. “You want to know why I didn’t give you answers? Because you wouldn’t have listened anyway. Like you're not listening now. You broke me, Zehra. You think I didn’t think about us? About what we could’ve been? I did. For years, I did. But every time I thought about coming back, I remembered how much it hurt to be with you. And I couldn’t do it, Zehra. I couldn’t lose myself for you again.”

Esma’s voice dropped, the heat of her anger giving way to something colder, quieter. It had to be this way, Esma knew she couldn't just be friends with her. “So yeah, maybe I’m pushing you away now. Maybe it’s not fair. But you don’t get to sit there and act like you’re the only one who’s heartbroken. I’m doing what I have to do to survive, Zehra. It's not my fault I'm scared of loving you, that's your fault. And if that makes me the bad guy in your story, then so be it.” @zchraa

[zchraa]

“Well now you’ve got me convinced that I need to try it on.” She said with a light laugh, making her way to the dressing room to try it on. “See now that sounds like a promise and I’m very appreciative and happy to pay the commission.” Zehra called back from the changing room, coming out a minute later in the dress feeling absolutely confident in herself. “I can’t wait for Esma to see me in this dress. This revenge tour is going to be my best era yet.”

@emiradursun

"I'd walk out of here if you didn't try this on," Emira joked (mostly) with a chuckle as she handed the dress to her to try on. "Shopping will definitely cure your sadness, especially shopping with me, so I can't wait for that commission," she teased with a wink. "Oh!" She quickly became distracted from a gorgeous maroon colored mini skirt and she quickly looked for her size. "I just can't wait to wear skirts without tights and shorts again."

[zchraa]

Zehra glanced around the café as she stepped inside, the warmth wrapping around her like a comfortable blanket. She removed her sunglasses, tucked them into her bag, and flashed Mason a smile as she made her way toward him.

“I’m not here to lecture you about procrastination,” she replied, pulling out the chair opposite him and sitting down. “Though, if you’re waiting for divine inspiration to strike, it might take a while. But hey, this place has good energy, maybe it’ll work wonders.”

Her eyes flicked to his stack of books and papers, her curiosity piqued. “But, really, I think it’s more about the vibe here, right? The perfect kind of distraction to get lost in.” She tilted her head, her smile a little softer. “Or maybe you’re just avoiding whatever you’re supposed to be working on.”

@masoncambridge

closed starter for: @zchraa location: driftwood coffee

Mason leaned against the counter of the small café, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he tapped his fingers against his cup of tea. The quiet hum of conversation filled the space, blending with the faint scratch of pen on paper as he flipped through his book. He was supposed to be finishing a chapter he’d been procrastinating on for weeks, but his focus had been derailed—again.

The bell above the door jingled, and when Mason glanced up, his smile grew. Zehra stepped inside, she always had this air about her, like she belonged wherever she went, even in a place like this, with its mismatched furniture and the faint smell of old books.

“Fancy meeting you here,” Mason said, his tone easy and light as he straightened up. “Let me guess—you came for the coffee but stayed for the ambiance?” He gestured toward the table he’d claimed near the corner, a stack of books and papers sprawled across it. “Or are you here to remind me that procrastination isn’t a personality trait?” he added with a smirk, “Because I’d say that’s debatable.”

[zchraa]

👀 …someone my muse likes, but doesn’t trust.

"After new years? Esma for sure, how fucking dare she do all that shit, but she's still fucking hot and it pisses me the fuck off."

@esmaxdemirci

[zchraa]

🔪 …someone my muse hurt in the past.

"I guess in all ways this has to go to Esma. Between slapping her at New Year's and mentally with all that happened in our earlier lives... Yea,h that probably takes the cake."

@esmaxdemirci

[zchraa]

It's bittersweet to think about the damage that we do / 'Cause I was going down, but I was doing it with you / Yeah, everything we broke, and all the trouble that we made / But I say that I hate you with a smile on my face / Oh, look what we became / All the things I did / Just so I could call you mine / All the things you did / Well, I hope I was your favorite crime

@esmaxdemirci

[zchraa]

Zehra: You know what? Zehra: I'll hold you to that, I get the feeling you'd kick his ass easy Zehra: Okay okay what's your first question? @buddywellls

Buddy: If you ever do, you know where I am. Buddy: I'd imagine just about anything is more fun than that. Buddy: How about 20 questions? @zchraa

[zchraa]

All I did was try my best / This the kind of thanks I get? / Unrelentlessly upset / They say these are the golden years / But I wish I could disappear / Ego crush is so severe / God, it's brutal out here

[zchraa]

If Esma had of done anything differently in the moments leading up to now perhaps Zehra wouldn’t have been so hurt by her not wanting to see her again. Now all that was left was the fact that Zehra felt like she had been used, and that she was waiting for absolutely nothing to come to fruition, how was she supposed to understand when Esma never gave her any answers. Sleeping together had just been the icing on the fuck you cake, what was she meant to do when her world felt like it was crumbling?

“Esma, I thought I knew you better than I did, I thought we’d at least have a chance to talk, to get to know the us that we are now, but no… You just kept hurting me every chance you got, now this is like… The biggest way you could possibly hurt me.” She drew in a long shaky breath, not knowing how she could continue to explain.

“I just… I wanted you. I didn’t care what pain or flaws I would have had to work through, I was ready to lay everything on the line, to enjoy you, to continue to find a way where we could both work through anything and deal with the consequences and move through whatever pain and suffering we would both eventually get past…”

Zehra stared at Esma for a moment, she hated how beautiful she was because it reminded her that whatever happened there probably wasn’t going to be a resolution that made anyone happy. Esma would still have her guard up, and Zehra would still be heart broken.

“But I did, I thought about it for years, why you would leave me, why you would just let me deal with everything.” The bitter bile rose up in her and she swallowed it back down. Esma in this moment, pushing her away like this, after everything that had happened since she got back, it made her feel physically sick. “You know, after everything that happened, I was hoping we’d have the sense to at least try for each other when we were all we had.” 

She finally looked away, a hollow laugh breaking through. “Protect me? Esma if you wanted to protect me now you’d have to kill me, you don’t understand what it’s like waiting for years, we finally see each other again we fight, we find a level ground, we sleep together, and now… Now you’re basically telling me to fuck off? Esma, I’m not mad, I’m distraught, I’m heartbroken, I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

@esmaxdemirci

Esma flinched at every word, her defenses crumbling under the weight of Zehra's pain. The bitterness in her ex-girlfriend’s voice was cutting, but what hurt more was the truth threading through every syllable. She wanted to say something, anything, to stop the hurt from spiraling further—but what could she possibly say to fix years of silence?

She opened her mouth to respond, but nothing came out at first. Her hands balled into fists at her sides, her nails pressing into her palms. Finally, after a long pause, Esma took a shaky breath, her voice low and strained.

“Zehra, I didn’t know what to say. I—I didn’t even know who I was back then, let alone how to explain it to you. I thought I was doing the right thing by staying away, giving you space to… I don’t know… move on. But I get it now. It wasn’t fair. It was selfish.” Her voice cracked on the last word, but she pushed through it.

“I didn’t abandon you because I didn’t care. I left because I was scared. Scared of messing up your life more than I already had. Scared that if I stayed, I’d drag you down with me. But you’re right—I should’ve called. I should’ve told you I was okay. I should’ve… I should’ve been better for you.”

Esma looked down at her feet, ashamed, before forcing herself to meet Zehra’s eyes. The sight of her, makeup smeared and heart laid bare, made Esma’s chest tighten. .

“You weren’t supposed to think anything, Zehra,” she said softly. “You weren’t supposed to hurt like this. I never wanted that for you. But I get it—I really do. I made my choices, and you had to deal with the fallout. I don’t deserve your forgiveness, and I’m not asking for it. I just…” She faltered, the words catching in her throat. “I just want you to know that I did love you and I need you to know that I am doing this to protect you." @zchraa

[zchraa]

burcu ozberk for @mneverland #437

[zchraa]

Zehra eyed the dress Emira held up, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips despite the ache still lingering in her chest. The sleek, crimson fabric shimmered in the light, bold and unapologetic... everything she wasn’t feeling but desperately wanted to be. “Revenge dress, huh?” she said, arching a brow as she reached out to feel the material.

“Guess it couldn’t hurt to try it on,” she added, glancing at Emira a broad smile crossed her face. “If this cures my sadness, I'm giving you the commission.”

@emiradursun

( closed starter for: @zchraa ) location: sea glass boutique

"You do know that shopping cures all kinds of sadness, right?" Emira teased with a chuckle, happy to be taking Zehra shopping to help distract her. The two walked inside and the former fashion model immediately found a dress that looked perfect for Zehra. "I think I just found the perfect revenge dress for you," she said, lifting it up and showing it to her.

[zchraa]

Zhera felt every stinging word, every painfully sharp knife twist, and it cut her deeper than anything Esma would ever say to her. There was so much truth coming out now, but why in earth did it have to be in such a public setting? All Zehra had wanted was a friend, and now she didn’t even have that.

“You might not have wanted to hurt me then, but you sure as shit keep hurting me now.” She replied, her tone equally as upset and bitter. “I get not wanting to talk to me, I get not feeling enough of what I needed you to be. But what I don’t get, is not even a message to tell me you’re okay? I sat by my phone for hours after you left wondering if you’d gone and done the same thing he did, got into a car wreck… Something… But you…” 

Her words fell flat in her mouth, she couldn’t bring herself to say the rest, she sucked in a shuddering breath, her makeup had been ruined minutes ago, and now she was staring at Esma, she didn’t know this Esma now. “What am I supposed to think, Esma? For years I have assumed you just didn’t give a shit because you never replied to me, what conclusions could I draw? Of course I’ve assumed you didn’t give a shit, you gave me no other options.”

She shook her head, taking a steadying breath, wiping away whatever was left of her ruined makeup. “I’m not going to hit you, not again, I just need you to understand, since you left without word from you? Of course I made my own conclusions and drawn my own ideas about what happened to you, what else was I supposed to do? I loved you, and you abandoned me probably when I needed you most. So please tell me what I was supposed to think.”

@esmaxdemirci

Esma crossed her arms, her jaw clenched tightly as she struggled to hold back the emotions swirling inside her. She couldn’t meet Zehra’s gaze fully, the weight of her words cutting deep, but there was anger too—anger at herself, and at Zehra for calling her out so harshly.

“Yeah, well, maybe I did want to hurt you,” she said bitterly, her voice sharp. “Maybe I was so fucking tired of being in something I wasn’t ready for. You think I didn’t care? You think I didn’t feel every single one of your fucking texts and calls? I did. I felt it all. But you don’t get it, Zehra. You don’t get what it’s like to be in my head. To be so goddamn messed up that you can’t even show up for yourself, let alone someone else.”

She let out a frustrated sigh, shaking her head. “I didn’t want to be that person. I didn’t want to be the one to break you, but I couldn’t lie to you. I couldn’t pretend like I was what you needed. You think I didn’t care about what we had? That’s what fucking hurts, Zehra. You’re sitting there acting like I didn’t give a shit, but you have no idea what it cost me to walk away. It wasn’t easy. It still isn’t.”

Her gaze flicked to the spot on her cheek where Zehra had hit her, and she stood there for a moment, biting back a mix of anger and hurt.

“Fine,” she shot back, voice cold and defensive. “Hit me again if it makes you feel better. But I’m done apologizing. I’m done letting you think I’m some kind of villain. I walked away because I couldn’t handle it. Because I wasn’t strong enough to be the person you needed. But don’t act like I didn’t try. Don’t act like I didn’t give a damn.” @zchraa