After a woman

Some people enter your life without a sound. They don’t knock on the door or ask permission to step in. With just a glance, a sentence, or even a silence, they settle quietly inside. You think you’re walking toward them, but in truth, they keep revolving in their own orbit. They appear close, yet always remain a step away.
And perhaps that’s where their magic begins.

When she introduced herself as a “luxury experience,” I paused for a moment. Because I never equated luxury with the glittering. For me, luxury has always meant looking into someone’s eyes and needing no words, feeling warmth in your chest without a single touch. But the kind of “luxury” she referred to was not about display — it was about being unattainable. It was the kind that places itself high, open only to the chosen few. Mesmerising, yes. But warm? Genuine? Those were the questions that lingered inside me.

Still, I listened. I listened because her words had elegance. They were quiet. Like a slow-moving river brushing the shore with patience.
“Real luxury is silent,” she said. “Not glamorous, but graceful and rare.”
I don’t know if she looked into my eyes when she said that, but I felt something stir inside my own. There was a tenderness beneath her words. And perhaps that’s what I was always after. Perhaps that’s why I stayed.

While she spoke of her elusiveness, I found myself thinking about what it truly means to reach someone. When did closeness stop being about physical proximity? When did a single glance begin to erase all others before it?
I didn’t want to solve her, or change her. I just wanted to understand. What lies within her? What makes her place herself so far above? Is it a hidden wound? A wall built over time? Or is it simply a mask — a delicate armor, worn over the years?

Some women are like poetry. The more you read, the more meanings unfold. You read the same line in three different states of heart, and each time, a new feeling is born. She was like that. Every sentence was a kind of invitation, though she never told you where it led.
I found myself listening less to what she said, and more to what she left unsaid.
“That is yet to be determined,” she said at one point.
There was no judgment in her voice, but there was a boundary.
She wasn’t focused on my presence — she was weighing whether I was worthy of being one of the “fortunate few.”
And it was then I realised: she was someone used to enchanting, not connecting.
But I don’t seek to be enchanted. I seek to belong.

While speaking with her, two voices echoed within me. One said, “Go further, discover her, imagine what lies behind all this depth.”
The other whispered, “Stop. What defines you is your honesty, your humility. Don’t lose yourself.”
It was an inner conflict. A silent tug-of-war between admiration and my own principles.

I love a life without pretense. I seek what doesn’t shout but touches deeply. The kind of closeness that doesn’t perform, but simply is.
And maybe that’s why I grew distant.

I know the difference between confidence and arrogance. One builds itself on a quiet foundation; the other stands above others. I’m still not sure where hers came from. But I know this: someone who constantly speaks of being “unreachable” may, deep down, be longing to be reached. They're just afraid.
But I can’t spend a lifetime trying to decipher someone’s fears.

Some people are not poetry. Sometimes a simple sentence, a quiet “hello,” or the stillness in someone’s presence builds a stronger bond than anything adorned.
I’m used to hearing the truth in softer voices. And maybe that’s why I got lost in hers.

Today, I ask myself:
Do we set out to solve a person, or to walk beside them?

I tried to know her, yes. But without losing myself in the process. And in the end, I realised — while her sense of exclusivity intrigued me, what I truly value is not being chosen… but being approached with willingness.
Not being reached, but walking together.
Not decoding someone’s silence, but sharing a silence that speaks.

Some women stay at the edge of the road. They’re beautiful, graceful — but always waiting. Watching who comes, never taking a step.
But I look for someone who walks in the middle of the road. Someone whose eyes hold warmth, not pride.

And I know — true elegance often lies in those who speak the least, but touch the deepest.

And I…
I wait for that one simple moment, not the one everyone notices — but the one where a quiet soul quietly leaves something behind in mine.

With Love and Respect,

Burak Anaturk.

Burak Anaturk is a professional civil engineer. He focuses on sharing lessons from his life experiences, exploring diverse perspectives, and discussing personal development topics.
Email:[email protected]