Is her father still alive? And if he is, why has he never come forward in forty years? The team sets out that same afternoon, driving toward the edge of the city, in the direction of the old mill. The road grows quiet. The houses become fewer, until nothing surrounds them but fields and grass rustling in the wind. When the mill appears on the horizon, no one speaks.
Its stone walls are covered in moss, and part of the roof has collapsed. But it's still standing, stubbornly, just like the tower. They park the car nearby. Elif is the first to get out, her eyes fixed on the mill. Are you sure? Büşra asks gently.
Elif nods, though her voice trembles. I didn't know this for forty years. I can't turn back now. They walk closer. The door is half open, its hinges rusted. Inside, there's a smell of dust and damp.
The light is dim, filtering through cracks in the walls. Hello? Nail calls out, his voice echoing off the stone walls. No answer comes. They move further inside. The old millstones still stand, covered in decades of dust.
In one corner, there's a table and a chair, arranged neatly, as if someone still lived there. Nil notices something on the table, a candle that looks recently used, along with a few books. Someone lives here, she whispers. Or used to. Elif approaches the table and lets her fingers touch one of the books. She pulls her hand back, trembling.
Suddenly, a voice comes from behind them. Who's there? Everyone turns. An old man steps out from the shadows, his back bent, his hair completely white. His eyes are narrowed, as if adjusted to the darkness for years. Elif holds her breath.
She takes one step forward, then stops. Dad? She whispers, her voice barely audible. The old man doesn't move. For a long moment, he simply stares, as though he can't quite believe what he's seeing. Elif?
He finally says, his voice cracked. You've grown up. Tears begin to fall from Elif's eyes. She takes another step toward him. Forty years, she says, her voice breaking. For forty years, I wondered where you were.
The old man lowers his head. I know, he says. And I'm sorry. But protecting you was the only way. Was the journalist truly alive all this time? And now that he has come forward, what will it change about the old corruption in the city?