Note: The original prompt title “E’ INCINTA di Oltan ??!!!” does not align with the provided content, which focuses entirely on Ipek’s suicidal ideation and actions. This spoiler will address the content provided, which is about Ipek’s tragic journey and potential suicide. The pregnancy angle is not supported by the text.
Prepare for the most harrowing and emotionally charged episode of “Tradimento” yet, as Ipek’s life hangs precariously in the balance. Driven to the brink by deep-seated betrayals and a lifetime of unaddressed trauma, she has made a devastating decision that no one anticipated. This pivotal episode forces every character to confront the catastrophic consequences of their negligence and misjudgments, leading to a climax that will leave viewers shattered.
The episode opens with Sezai receiving a chilling video message from Ipek. Her swollen eyes, smeared makeup, and unsettling calm immediately alarm him. “Dad, I’m going to my mother,” Ipek states flatly, her voice devoid of emotion. Sezai, knowing his daughter, understands this detached tone signals an irreversible decision. Her subsequent words pierce him: “I can’t live like this anymore. I can’t pretend everything is okay when I know you’ll never truly choose me.” Her voice momentarily falters, then recomposes, as if reciting a long-rehearsed script. Sezai’s hands tremble; he recognizes her fierce determination, inherited from him, now turned against herself. “I’m going to my mother because she’s the only one who ever truly loved me, unconditionally, without me having to compete with anyone else.” As she speaks, her face briefly lights up, picturing a reunion in the afterlife. Sezai’s panic surges; he knows she means to join her mother in the only way possible.
The video continues with Ipek rising, the camera shaking slightly. “I know you’ll call Guzide now. I know you’ll both rush here to try and stop me, but this time your pity won’t be enough.” Her voice hardens: “This time I understand that the only way to stop suffering is to stop existing in a world where I will never be enough.”
Sezai drops his phone, frantically pacing his office, replaying Ipek’s words, desperately searching for an alternative meaning. But deep down, he knows: his daughter is about to commit an irreparable act, and he played a part in pushing her to this point. Trembling uncontrollably, Sezai calls Guzide. Every ring feels eternal. When Guzide finally answers, Sezai’s voice is a desperate gasp: “Guzide, you have to come immediately. Ipek… Ipek is going to take her life.” Speaking the words aloud makes them terrifyingly real. Guzide’s tone instantly shifts, asking questions, but Sezai hears nothing but his pounding heart. He hangs up and races out of the office.
Driving frantically, Sezai’s mind replays all the warning signs he missed: Ipek’s long silences, her ghost-like gaze, her unfinished sentences. He had dismissed it all as a “phase,” never imagining her mind sliding into such a deep abyss. Traffic becomes torture. He honks wildly, trying to pass cars, but he knows it might already be too late. The message didn’t specify when she would act; she might already have done it. This thought drives him to scream in desperation, cursing himself for his blindness. When he finally arrives home, Guzide is also rushing from the other side of the street. Their eyes meet, filled with a shared despair. There’s no time for words, explanations, or accusations. Only time to race up the stairs, hoping against hope. But as they ascend, Sezai knows this moment will change everything, regardless of what they find.
The Roots of Despair: A Daughter’s Unhealed Trauma
The video message reveals the core of Ipek’s pain: “The last time I felt like part of a family, my mother was alive.” This isn’t just a confession; it’s the key to understanding why a 20-year-old girl has decided life is no longer worth living. Her voice softens, nostalgic, as if caressing a precious memory, but beneath that sweetness lies a consuming grief.
For Ipek, her mother’s death wasn’t just a devastating loss; it was the end of her identity, the destruction of everything she knew herself to be. Before that tragedy, she was a daughter, part of a solid, loving family. Afterward, she became an “emotional orphan,” living with a man she called “Dad” but no longer truly felt connected to. Every morning, the harsh reality of her mother’s absence hits her anew, forcing her to relive the loss daily. This confession reveals Ipek has never processed her grief. For years, she’s lived in an emotional limbo, trapped in a past that no longer exists while the world moved on. She never learned to live with her mother’s absence, never accepted that life could continue without her. She simply stopped truly living, dragging herself from day to day without healing.
In Ipek’s mind, her mother became the only source of pure love she’d ever known. She idealized their relationship, turning every memory into gold. Her mother had no flaws, never disappointed her, never made her feel inadequate. She was unconditional love personified, the one who understood her without explanations. Every affectionate gesture from Sezai is inevitably compared to her memories of her mother, and the comparison is always merciless, for nothing can compete with a perfect memory. This constant comparison fuels her despair. When she sees her father smiling with Guzide, laughing together, or notices their small intimate gestures, Ipek feels betrayed – not because her father doesn’t deserve happiness, but because their happiness reminds her of everything she lost. Every moment of Sezai’s serenity is a dagger to Ipek’s heart, proof that one can be happy even without the person who meant everything to her.
Ipek built an imaginary world where time stopped, and her mother was still alive. In this alternate reality, they were a complete family; Sezai didn’t need anyone else, and she didn’t have to compete for his attention. This mental refuge became the only place she felt safe, the only place she could be herself without judgment or disappointment. Her inability to accept new family bonds stems directly from this unhealed wound. Every attempt by Sezai to include her with Guzide, to create family moments, feels like a betrayal of her mother’s memory, as if accepting a new family configuration meant admitting her mother was replaceable, that their original family wasn’t so special. This guilt paralyzes her, making her incapable of opening up. She reacts with anger and contempt because she doesn’t know how to express this pain constructively. The devastating truth is that for Ipek, reaching her mother means returning to the only moment of authentic happiness she remembers. It’s the only way to stop suffering, to return to the woman who was her entire world. She cannot imagine a future without her, nor conceive of new bonds filling that void. Thus, “going to her mother” isn’t just a desire for reunion in the afterlife; it’s the only logical solution her traumatized mind can process.
The Final Betrayal: A Father’s Lies
Ipek’s downward spiral wasn’t fueled solely by her mother’s loss. A more recent, equally painful element accelerated her self-destruction: a betrayal that crushed her last hope for happiness in this world. Weeks prior, Ipek had begun to believe her father finally understood. Sezai had told her words she hadn’t heard in years, promising she would be his priority. “You are my daughter, you are the most important thing in my life,” he had said, embracing her after another argument. For the first time since her mother’s death, Ipek felt a glimmer of hope. She interpreted every small gesture from Sezai—morning coffee, asking about her day, turning off his phone during conversations—as proof of his change. She started to relax, smile more, even imagining they could truly be a family again. For the first time in years, she lowered her defenses.
The disappointment, when it came, was even more devastating precisely because Ipek had dared to hope. She discovered the truth in the cruelest way: seeing Sezai and Guzide together when she believed they had broken up. It wasn’t a casual encounter; they were clearly seeing each other regularly, continuing their relationship while he lied to her face every single day. The world of illusions Ipek had built crumbled, leaving her more wounded than ever. “Your beloved Guzide is troubled. You deceived me again. Congratulations!” she had screamed at Sezai, her voice dripping with bitter sarcasm, a daughter betrayed yet again. It wasn’t just anger; it was a physical pain from profound disappointment. She had believed his promises, started to trust again, and he had stabbed her in the back. This wasn’t a misunderstanding; it was a deliberate, calculated lie, maintained for weeks. Sezai had looked his daughter in the eyes, seen the hope and gratitude, yet lacked the courage to tell her the truth, preferring a cruel charade.
This discovery reopened all of Ipek’s past wounds with unheard-of violence. Every past instance of feeling sidelined, inadequate, or in competition for her father’s love resurfaced with devastating force. Sezai’s betrayal confirmed her deepest fears, validating every negative thought she had about herself. The most painful realization was that even her father, the one person who should love her unconditionally, didn’t deem her worthy of sincerity. If Sezai could lie so easily, what did she truly mean to him? Ipek began to doubt every affectionate moment they shared, wondering if they were all false. The discovery of Sezai and Guzide’s secret relationship destroyed the last hope Ipek had cherished. She had imagined a future where she and her father could be happy, where she wouldn’t have to share his love, where she could finally be someone’s priority. But even this dream was violently snatched away, leaving her utterly empty.
In her video message, Ipek confesses, “I think I did my best, I wanted to accept Guzide, but I couldn’t.” This reveals how close she was to surrendering, to accepting Guzide’s presence. She made an enormous effort to overcome her jealousy and pain, trying to be the understanding daughter her father wanted. But just as she was about to succeed, she discovered it was all a lie. This paternal betrayal was the final straw, proof that Ipek had no place in this world. If even her father couldn’t love her enough to be honest, if he couldn’t prioritize her as promised, then there truly was no hope for her. Sezai’s betrayal pushed Ipek towards increasingly extreme thoughts, towards the idea that the only escape from this pain was a definitive one.
Missed Signals and a Dark Legacy
What no one understood was that Ipek’s increasingly desperate actions masked clear signs of a mind losing control, signals that should have alarmed everyone long before this point of no return. When Ipek tried to run over Guzide with her car, everyone saw it as extreme jealousy. Sezai was angry, Guzide scared, and Oltan doubted the girl he was seeing. But no one realized it wasn’t premeditated malice. It was the desperate cry of a mind completely losing control, an alarm bell from someone who no longer knew how to ask for help. She wasn’t seeking revenge; she was seeking to feel some power over a life slipping from her grasp. What seemed like pure evil was a symptom of a mind that could no longer process emotions normally. Ipek had reached a point where despair was so intense it transformed into uncontrollable physical impulses. She could no longer express her pain in words, could no longer cry or scream. The only way her traumatized mind could communicate her suffering was through increasingly extreme and dangerous actions.
Jesim used this episode to convince Oltan that Ipek was “mentally ill,” showing the video as irrefutable proof. But reducing it to a psychiatric label ignores the complexity of Ipek’s struggle. She didn’t “go crazy” out of nowhere; her “madness” had deep, concrete roots in her history: unaddressed grief, repeated betrayals, broken promises. The impulse to harm Guzide revealed her powerlessness in a situation she couldn’t control. In her confused mind, eliminating Guzide meant restoring everything to how it was before, erasing the past few years, and returning to a life with just her and Sezai. She couldn’t understand that the problem wasn’t Guzide but her inability to accept life moving on, people changing, and love not being a limited resource. For Ipek, the world stopped the day her mother died, and everything after was an aberration to be corrected.
Ipek constructed a narrative where Guzide was the main enemy to defeat to regain her father’s love. She saw herself as the heroine saving her relationship with her father from an external threat. She couldn’t see that the real threat was her self-destructive behavior, her inability to heal. Guzide became the perfect scapegoat. Guzide’s constant presence was a daily reminder that her father could love another woman beyond her mother’s memory, shattering Ipek’s idealized image of their family. Seeing him in love again proved that their unique love wasn’t so unique after all. Every happy moment between Sezai and Guzide felt like a stab to Ipek’s heart, a betrayal not just from her father but from her mother’s memory. It was as if Sezai’s smiles offended the woman he loved before, as if being happy with Guzide meant completely forgetting the past. For Ipek, these serene moments were also a betrayal of her dead mother. In her mind, Sezai should still be grieving, bearing the weight of loss as she did. Seeing him happy with another woman felt disrespectful to her mother’s memory. She couldn’t conceive that one could honor a dead person’s memory by continuing to live and love.
Guzide became the perfect symbol of everything Ipek couldn’t control in her life. She couldn’t bring her mother back, erase years of pain, or force Sezai to love her as she desired. But she could try to eliminate Guzide, to destroy what she perceived as the main obstacle to her happiness. It was a distorted way of regaining control over a life that felt governed by chance and cruel destiny. Ipek’s tragedy is that Guzide became the perfect scapegoat for a suffering rooted much deeper in her psyche. The real problem was never Guzide’s presence but Ipek’s inability to process grief, accept change, and grow emotionally. Guzide is merely the easiest target for a rage actually directed at herself, the world, and a destiny that snatched her mother away too soon.
There’s a disturbing parallelism between Ipek’s story and her mother’s that no one ever noticed before, a connection that makes the tragedy even deeper and more terrifying. Everyone believed Ipek’s mother died from a sudden illness, a tragic twist of fate. But the truth is darker: Ipek’s mother did not die of natural causes. She chose to leave, just as her daughter is about to do now. This detail changes everything we thought we knew about Sezai’s family and Ipek’s pain. Ipek’s mother also suffered for love, experiencing profound despair that led her to contemplate extreme acts. Like her daughter years later, she felt inadequate, unable to find her place, carrying an unbearable emotional weight. Her story was hidden to protect young Ipek from the devastating truth. But family secrets have a way of resurfacing, influencing future generations.
Ipek is unconsciously repeating the identical emotional journey that led her mother to her death: the same obsessive thoughts, the same inability to find alternative solutions, the same tendency to see death as the only escape from unbearable suffering. It’s as if the mother’s tragic fate is etched into the family’s emotional DNA, passed down through example, untold stories, and silences that speak louder than words. Ipek is not just reliving her pain; she is completing a cycle her mother began years ago. The phrase “I’m going to my mother” now takes on a literal meaning beyond simple reunion in the afterlife. Ipek isn’t just expressing a desire to see her dead mother; she’s announcing her intention to follow in her exact footsteps, to commit the same act her mother did. This reveals how deeply Ipek knows the truth about her mother’s death and how profoundly it influenced her subsequent choices.
Ipek’s self-destructive tendency might be inherited, not through genes, but through learned behavioral patterns, ways of reacting to pain passed down through example, untold stories, and silences. Ipek learned from her mother that when suffering becomes unbearable, there is a definitive way out, and she is now applying this terrible lesson to her life. The most shocking truth is that Ipek always knew how her mother truly died. Perhaps not as a child, but certainly as she grew old enough to understand subtleties, to read between the lines of adult conversations, to piece together a story no one had fully told her. This secret knowledge influenced her every choice, reaction, and moment of crisis. She always knew she had an extreme alternative when life became too difficult. The way Ipek idealizes her mother might hide something more unsettling than simple filial nostalgia; it might conceal a conscious desire to follow her tragic destiny, to complete what her mother began. In the perfect image she built of her mother, there might also be admiration for her courage to end suffering, for her ability to take control of her destiny when all seemed lost. Every time Ipek speaks of her mother with that sweet, nostalgic voice, describing her as the only person who truly understood her, she might be speaking of someone who shared her same despair. The emotional connection she feels with her mother might go beyond normal mother-daughter love; it might be the connection between two souls who experienced the same unbearable pain and contemplated the same extreme solution.
If you or someone you know is struggling, please know that there’s help available. You can connect with people who can support you by calling or texting 988 anytime in the US and Canada. In the UK, you can call 111. These services are free, confidential, and available 24/7.
