Page 29 of The Book of Heartbreak

Trust may be the strongest of bonds yet it’s delicate enough to be severed with a single word. Once it’s broken, no effort can fully restore it, leaving a growing gap that drives hearts apart.

Excerpt from The Book of Betrayal, Müneccimbasi Sufi Chelebi’s Journals of Mystical Phenomena

Only after Munu departs do I realise how hard I’ve been clutching Leon’s arm.

‘What is going on between you two?’ He breaks the heavy silence. ‘What was she talking about? What rules?’

I shrink away instead of responding.

I’m so sick of not knowing who to trust or what to say. A part of me burns with frustration at how much I revealed, how vulnerable I let myself become. Munu’s departure is a harsh reminder that I can’t afford to be close to anyone – least of all, Leon.

‘Are you okay, Silverbirch?’ Leon insists. I take a step back and he doesn’t close the gap between us.

Since I met Leon my already disastrous life only went more downhill. I read Sufi Chelebi’s journal seeking hope, only to find turmoil in The Book of Heartbreak . More questions. More unrest.

And now it’s costing me Munu. Have I been foolish to rely on her?

‘Does she have anything against you?’ Leon’s voice is full of concern. ‘If you’re in some sort of trouble—’

‘Please.’ I lift my hand to signal him to stop.

I need to compose myself, consider everything, figure out why Munu stole the book.

It will take three more steps to reach the door and leave his room, and then perhaps another two hundred to the safety of mine.

But would being alone fix anything? I’m not even sure I’m the same person who left my house today, or who read the book yesterday.

And I’m certainly not the girl who arrived in Istanbul three weeks ago.

‘The book,’ Leon says, back to business mode. ‘She has it. Can you summon her, and ask who she’s taken it to?’

‘She won’t come,’ I whisper, almost certain that Munu won’t appear again in case she upsets me to the point of no return. ‘I have to go.’

‘Don’t.’ Leon’s tone makes me hesitate. ‘I’m so close to solving the mystery of the tower.’ His voice is a plea. ‘You are the missing piece, Silverbirch, I’m sure of it. The book chose you. Not me, not anyone else – you.’

I feel suddenly foolish, thinking he actually cared about me, and not the bloody curse, or the tower. Of course he wants me to stay – so that I’ll spill my secrets. ‘I have no idea why the book chose me, but I don’t care. It only frightens me now.’

‘I can help.’ He pauses, as if waiting for his words to sink in. ‘We can help each other.’

I shake my head. ‘No one can help me.’

‘Don’t be afraid of hope,’ Leon says.

Hope is a malfunction , Munu repeats in my mind. And she’s right. Hope is dangerous for me, and Leon is full of it. ‘I shouldn’t have come here.’ My fingers fumble on the door handle.

‘We can break the curse, you and I,’ he says. ‘We can rewrite history together.’

No one has ever proposed any sort of partnership to me before, and even though I can’t say yes to him, there’s a small temptation. If only I could trust him.

He watches me, waiting for an answer. What can I say? Sorry, Leon, I’d love to, but bonding with anyone is basically a death sentence when you’re cursed to die of heartbreak. The thought is so ridiculous I want to laugh and cry at the same time.

‘Sare,’ Leon says, with a hint of longing. My name fits between his lips like a dagger in its sheath. ‘The curse is the link between you and Theodora. Come to the tower with me again, and perhaps you’ll remember something to help—’

‘No.’ I shake my head again. ‘I won’t go there.’

It’s the one promise I made to Munu that I’ll keep. Not for her sake, but mine.

Finally, I find a grip on the door handle and thrust myself out of his room. He calls after me as I widen the distance between us, but I ignore him.

I slam the apartment door behind me, and race down the stairs, but no matter how fast I run, the heat of his gaze remains like hot iron on my face.

Back at home, I turn off my phone, sealing myself away from the outside world by closing the window and the shutters. I leave strict instructions with Azmi that I don’t want to be disturbed, ensuring that Leon can’t breach my solitude.

I sleep as if I haven’t slept for years. I toss and turn in bed, caught in the claws of nightmares.

The book chose you, Leon says in the midst of my dream.

The book chose me, I repeat, standing in the Inbetween, neither dead, nor alive.

Love is a disease, Munu warns. Hope is a malfunction.

You’re not Daphne, she says. You shall live, Sare.

She’s not Daphne, whispers Theodora. She is me.

What if you were reborn? Theodora asks. What if we’re one?

No, I cry out. No. No. NO!

Then I gasp, awake, drenched in sweat, my screams still echoing through my room.

I can’t lift myself up the next day. The morning becomes the afternoon, and I dream between the mosque’s prayers until the evening.

Perhaps I should sleep for a few more months, and then everything will stop hurting. Perhaps when the curse finally lifts, I will be fearless.

It’s the first prayer of the evening when Munu’s voice fills the silence.

‘Canim.’

I don’t budge, still burning with anger. I pretend to be asleep, so she’ll leave me alone.

‘I know you well enough to know you’re not really asleep,’ Munu insists. The soft flapping of her wings stirs the air as she hovers above me. ‘Well enough to know that you’re so angry, you won’t be heartbroken.’

‘What do you want?’ Reluctantly, I sit up. ‘Save your breath if you’re going to lecture me about Leon. I haven’t seen him since yesterday.’

Or was it the day before?

‘You’re torturing yourself letting him manipulate you like this.’ Munu lands on the bed next to me. Soon, despite my anger, I’m facing her like a sunflower turning towards the sun.

‘Should I let you manipulate me instead?’ I hiss.

‘Even if Chelebi’s claim is true and a mortal really can break the curse,’ she says, ignoring my snark, ‘the risk is too great. Don’t you get it? I might not be able to save you from what you discover. You must live, Sare. You must survive.’

But I’m past the point of caring about the risks. Her caution does little to diminish my desire to know the truth. Sunset brims through the curtains and I try to plot scenarios that could fit into the holes of the answers I crave.

‘Perhaps I’m really Theodora,’ I fumble. ‘Perhaps she died of heartbreak too.’

‘Don’t be absurd!’ Munu erupts, her voice sharp with disdain. ‘I’ve never heard a more pitiful notion. You’re not Theodora. She was shrouded in a darkness that could never taint your pure soul.’

I gasp with a shocking realisation. ‘You knew her, didn’t you?’ I freeze. ‘You knew Theodora.’

‘No.’ Munu recoils as if struck. ‘I do what I’m told, and I don’t look back.’

Nothing makes sense – her secretiveness, her fear. And then, as clear as the morning sky, I suddenly understand why she’s so terrified of hearing about Theodora.

‘You were her guardian.’ I grapple with this electric discovery.

‘You were helping Theodora, just as you help me now. She died of heartbreak and you failed with her, and now if I don’t reach eighteen, I’ll be reborn as someone else.

I’m doomed to live this curse for eternity, and you’re doomed to suffer with me.

’ I stare at her, defiant. ‘I’m right, aren’t I? ’

I realise at that moment that my theory, as improbable as it sounds, is the most plausible explanation. And judging by Munu’s quivering, I’ve hit a nerve. But how much of it is true? And what else is Munu hiding from me?

‘Nonsense,’ she protests again, backing away from me, beginning to shrink. ‘Do not force me to speak of it. He will punish me.’

‘Munu,’ I beg. ‘Please. I don’t want to sacrifice my heart . ’

Munu looks shocked by my confession. The truth feels so near, yet so distant. Just like Leon, who offered to do his ‘bending’ to make Munu speak, I wish I could grab her shoulders and shake the truth out of her.

‘I don’t want to live a loveless life,’ I plead, my voice cracking under the weight of my despair.

‘Love is a disease,’ Munu says. ‘It rots you. It reduces you. It’s the worst of the pains.

You’ll be better off without it. Navigate these last months until you’re eighteen and then accept your destiny.

Once the curse takes your heart, you will never suffer again.

You will be invincible. No one will ever hurt you again.

Shouldn’t you be grateful? Surely that is enough reward?

’ She tries to take a step forward, but falters.

In some fucked-up way, I feel sorry for her – perhaps even sorrier than I feel for myself.

‘The truth might hurt you irrevocably. Stop seeking it!’

‘I’ll make no such promise,’ I whisper. ‘Not any more.’