Aylin looked up, a small, sad smile touching her lips. "The song says we are mysteries to everyone but ourselves. In your eyes, I am just a woman in a bookshop. In mine, I am back in my grandfather's garden, smelling the lemons."

"It’s a heavy song for such a light rain," he remarked softly.

As the lyrics reached the chorus, a young man entered the shop, shaking a wet umbrella. He paused, caught by the gravity of Aylin's expression as she hummed along. He didn't know her name, her history, or the grief she carried for a house in Anatolia that no longer belonged to her family. To him, she was simply a beautiful, melancholic stranger in a green coat.