The air in that house had become suffocating for Seida.
Taking care of Arif was far from what she had imagined—each exchange felt like a duel, every look a provocation. Fed up with his constant rudeness, and weighed down by a deep, simmering frustration, she packed her bags in a rush. She was ready to walk away from what now felt like a prison.

But just as she reached the door, Arif acted.
With a dark, unreadable gaze, he locked it and pocketed the key. The room froze. “You’re not leaving me,” he said flatly, his tone like a blade of ice. And then, without warning, he began to speak—tearing apart the silence with a confession that shattered everything Seida thought she knew about Arda’s birth. Two devastating truths, like knives to the chest, left her trembling.

Before she could process the blow, Suat appeared—eyes blazing with an anger she could not decipher. He insisted she follow him home, away from prying ears, because what he had to say couldn’t be spoken there. With a knot in her stomach, she agreed.

Inside his home, the tension was almost unbearable. Then, with a sudden movement, Suat pulled a folder from his jacket and threw it at her. The papers scattered across the floor. She bent to gather them, her hands shaking, flipping through until the meaning sank in—a DNA test.

His voice came, cold and merciless: the results proved he was not Arda’s father.
The words hit her like stones. Suat accused her of using him for money, calling her a gold-digger, and then—like twisting the knife—asked if she even knew who the real father was. Seida could barely breathe. For her, Suat had always been Arda’s father. Now, he told her never to seek him again, warning that if she did, he might do something he’d regret.

Shaken to her core, Seida collapsed into tears when Bahar arrived, having overheard part of the confrontation. She swore on everything she held sacred that Suat was wrong, but she had no money to prove it with a new test. Bahar, determined to help, called Cemal, who offered to redo the test at the hospital—if they could get Suat’s DNA.

A plan formed. Bahar casually approached Suat at a café, embraced him, and in the process, discreetly plucked a stray hair from his jacket. Within hours, Cemal had the sample. But Arif, ever sharp, overheard part of Seida’s phone conversation about the DNA and mocked her for not knowing her son’s father. Her temper flared—she reminded him he was only there for his mother’s sake, and if he kept behaving like that, she’d make sure he never set foot in the house again.

Days later, the call from Cemal came. Seida’s pulse raced as she answered, expecting vindication. But Cemal’s voice was hesitant. He asked to meet in person. Dread crept in. She pressed him for the truth—now. And then it came.

The DNA test was correct. Suat was not Arda’s father.
And the second revelation was even more unbearable: she was not Arda’s mother. The boy had been switched at birth.

The phone slipped from her hand. Time seemed to stop. Arif, seeing her pale and shaking, rushed to her side. The words left her lips in fragments—her son wasn’t hers. She had been raising someone else’s child.

She wanted to run to the hospital, but Arif locked the door, insisting she calm down first. Then, for the first time, he opened up—before his accident, he had been a police detective, with contacts who could help uncover what had happened. He explained that such baby swaps, though rare, were not unheard of. Somewhere out there, her biological child might still be found.

Seida resisted the thought, clinging to her belief that Arda was her son. Yet doubt had rooted itself deep inside her.

Later, determined, she told Suat the truth. Surprisingly, he agreed to help find her real child. They discovered the boy—but he was in the custody of a dangerous man. Torn between the truth and her heart, Seida made a bold choice: she would fight for custody of both children.

Suat, meanwhile, tracked down Arda’s biological father and, driven by guilt, offered him a huge sum to give the boy to Seida. Greed won out, and before the court could even decide, she found herself holding her real son in her arms.

What she didn’t know was how much Arif had done behind the scenes to make it possible. When she asked him why, his answer was simple: “You deserve to be happy.” But behind those words was something more—a feeling he couldn’t yet admit.

And now the question lingers—if you were Seida, would you fight for both children, knowing the truth?