My Sister Banned Me From Her Wedding Because She Thought I Was “Too Ordinary”… But She Didn’t Know Her Fiancé Had Once Loved Me
Part 2: The Man Who Left Me Was About to Marry My Sister
When I first met Kerem, I never imagined that one day I would sit across from my sister and hear her proudly announce that she was going to marry the man who once broke my heart.
At the time, Kerem Aydıner was just a man I met through work.
I was twenty-nine years old, working at an advertising agency in Istanbul. Our company was handling a major campaign for a technology exhibition, and Kerem attended the meetings as a representative of his family’s company.
I had heard of Aydıner Holding before.
It was one of those powerful family businesses that appeared regularly in the economy pages of newspapers.
Construction.
Tourism.
Energy.
A wealthy family with influence and connections.
But when Kerem walked into that first meeting, he didn’t act like someone who had grown up surrounded by privilege.
He wore a dark gray suit, but unlike the other executives in the room, he wasn’t arrogant.
He listened.
He took notes.
He thanked assistants by their names.
After the meeting ended, he came toward me.
“Did you prepare the presentation?” he asked.
“Actually, the whole team worked on it.”
He smiled slightly.
“But the final idea was yours.”
I looked surprised.
“How did you know?”
“When you explained that part, your expression changed. People speak differently when they’re talking about something they truly created.”
I smiled.
That was the first thing I liked about him.
Kerem paid attention.
Not the fake kind of attention people give when they are waiting for their turn to speak.
He actually listened.
Two days later, he sent me a message.
“We never had a chance to drink coffee during the exhibition chaos. Would you like to change that?”
At first, I hesitated.
Dating a client could create problems.
But the project was almost finished, and Kerem wasn’t directly responsible for my work anymore.
And honestly?
I was curious about him.
Our first date was at a small café in Karaköy.
He didn’t talk about his family’s money.
I didn’t talk about my struggles.
We talked about movies, books, Istanbul, and our dreams.
He asked me what my favorite book was.
It wasn’t a question people usually asked because they cared.
Most people asked because they wanted to appear interesting.
But Kerem actually cared.
He saved the title on his phone.
One week later, he arrived at our meeting having already read it.
That small gesture affected me more than expensive gifts ever could.
Our relationship developed quickly.
Sometimes we went to expensive restaurants in Bebek.
Other times, we ate fish sandwiches in Kadıköy because I wanted something simple.
Kerem seemed comfortable everywhere.
At luxury restaurants.
At small neighborhood cafés.
Walking along Moda beach.
At least, that was what I believed.
Three months after we started dating, I told him about my family.
I told him my father had died years ago from a heart attack.
I told him my mother lived on a retirement income.
I told him my sister Derya worked in public relations at a private hospital.
“Are you close with Derya?” he asked.
“We used to be.”
“And now?”
I shrugged.
“As we grew older, we became different people. She cares a lot about how things look from the outside. I don’t care that much.”
Kerem was quiet for a moment.
“What will your family think when they learn about mine?”
“My mother cares about whether you’re a good person.”
“And Derya?”
I laughed.
“Derya will probably search your last name on the internet first.”
He laughed too.
Back then, that sentence felt like a joke.
I didn’t know it was actually a warning.
Six months into our relationship, Kerem said he wanted to introduce me to his family.
But it never happened.
First, his father was out of town.
Then his mother had health problems.
Then the company became busy with an important project.
Every excuse sounded reasonable.
But there was always another reason.
Another delay.
When I suggested that he meet my family, I noticed something change on his face.
It was quick.
Almost invisible.
But I saw it.
“Why don’t we have dinner at my mother’s place?” I asked.
“Of course,” he replied.
“Just when things calm down a little.”
Things never calmed down.
Still, I was happy.
I believed he loved me.
One evening, while sitting at a restaurant overlooking the Bosphorus, Kerem talked about our future.
“There’s an empty apartment in Etiler,” he said.
“We could renovate it together.”
I smiled.
“Is that your marriage proposal?”
He laughed.
“If I proposed, what would you say?”
His voice sounded playful.
But his eyes were serious.
“First, our families need to meet,” I answered.
That was the moment something changed.
Only for a second.
But I noticed.
Kerem could imagine a life with me.
He could imagine living with me.
But he was afraid to put me in front of his family.
That night, I didn’t push the subject.
Maybe I should have.
Because sometimes the things we refuse to ask are the things that eventually destroy us.
Our breakup happened suddenly.
Almost as quickly as we had fallen in love.
One Monday morning, Kerem told me he had to travel to Ankara for business.
For two days, his replies became slower.
Then they stopped.
On the third day, his phone was turned off.
On the fourth day, I received a short message.
“We need to talk.”
He was waiting for me in a hotel lobby.
The moment I saw him, I knew.
This wasn’t a normal conversation.
He stood up when I arrived.
But he didn’t hug me.
“Did something happen?” I asked.
“My father found out about us.”
My heart immediately started beating faster.
“How?”
“Someone saw us together.”
“And?”
Kerem looked down.
“My family doesn’t approve.”
I stared at him.
“They don’t even know me.”
“Elif…”
“No. Answer me. They don’t know me.”
“It’s not about you.”
I almost laughed.
“Everyone who says that is talking about the other person.”
“Elif, please.”
“What did they say?”
Kerem stayed silent.
“I want to know.”
He finally spoke.
“They think we come from different worlds.”
Different worlds.
Those words hurt more than an insult.
Because wealthy people often used them when they wanted to say:
You are not good enough for us.
I looked at him.
“What do you think?”
He swallowed.
“I love you.”
“That’s not an answer.”
Silence.
And in that silence, I understood everything.
Kerem loved me.
Maybe he truly did.
But not enough to fight for me.
Not enough to stand against his family.
“So this is over?” I asked.
“Elif…”
“Is this over?”
He looked away.
“My father was planning to hand over more responsibility at the company. If I go against him now…”
I interrupted him.
“So if you leave me, you keep your future?”
“Don’t say it like that.”
“How should I say it?”
He had no answer.
I stood up.
“Don’t call me again.”
“Elif…”
“I won’t be the woman you secretly love but are too afraid to choose.”
I walked out of that hotel.
It was raining.
I didn’t have an umbrella.
I walked from Beşiktaş to Zincirlikuyu.
My clothes were soaked.
My hair was dripping.
But I didn’t cry.
Not that night.
Not the next day.
I cried one week later when I threw away the flowers he sent me.
After that, I removed Kerem from my life.
Or at least, I thought I did.
Three years later, I sat in my mother’s house and heard my sister say:
“I met someone.”
My mother smiled.
“Who is he?”
Derya fixed her hair proudly.
“His name is Kerem.”
The tea glass stopped halfway to my lips.
Thousands of men in Istanbul were named Kerem.
I told myself it was impossible.
Just a coincidence.
Then my mother asked:
“What does he do?”
“He works in his family company.”
My hand slowly lowered the glass.
“What is his last name?”
Derya smiled.
“Aydıner.”
The entire room suddenly felt silent.
The sounds around me disappeared.
The traffic outside.
My mother’s voice.
The movement of Derya opening photos on her phone.
Everything faded.
Because on her screen was the man who once promised me a future.
Kerem.
Standing beside my sister.
Looking at her the way he once looked at me.
Or maybe…
Maybe I only wanted to believe that.
“Isn’t he handsome?” Derya asked.
My throat felt dry.
“Where did you meet?”
“At a charity event organized by the hospital where I work.”
She smiled.
“He liked me from the first moment.”
I remembered Kerem’s words from years ago.
People speak differently when they’re talking about something they truly created.
“Does he know about me?” I asked.
Derya frowned.
“Why are you asking such strange questions?”
“I’m just curious.”
“He knows I have a sister.”
I looked at the picture again.
Did Kerem know?
Did he know who I was?
Did he recognize my family name?
Did he know he was about to marry the sister of the woman he once abandoned?
I didn’t say anything that day.
Because I didn’t know what the right thing was.
Should I tell my sister?
Should I protect her?
Or would everyone believe I was just jealous?
But one thing was certain.
The truth was coming.
And before the wedding day arrived, everything Kerem and the Aydıner family had hidden would finally come to light.
