The ache didn't vanish instantly, but it changed. It was no longer a jagged, painful secret. It became a thin, golden line—a reminder that she had survived, that she had loved, and that she was still standing.
She wasn't "broken." She was a masterpiece in progress, gold-filled cracks and all.
One afternoon, Elif visited an old potter named Selim. In his workshop, she saw a beautiful ceramic vase, but it was crisscrossed with gold-filled cracks.