Page 45 of Baran
The scent of Baran’s hair filled Darien’s senses as he leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “Stay safe.”
With that, Baran got out of the vehicle and walked to the shelter. Once Darien saw Baran enter the shelter, he left for his meeting, driving through the congested streets with the scent of exhaust fumes filling the air.
Darien eased his car into a parking spot near New York University’s main campus, stepping out into the brisk winter air. Students shuffled between classes, their chatter blending withthe occasional honk of city traffic. Darien began his walk, the directions to Jonathan’s office sharp in his memory.
The sidewalks were busy, a mosaic of students, faculty, and visitors. He reached the administration building, its heavy glass doors swinging open as he entered. He told the receptionist he was here to see Professor Fletcher, and she led him to his office.
Jonathan, seated at his polished desk, greeted him with a wide grin. “Darien!” he said, rising to clasp his hand. “I’ve got good news for you.”
“Stop teasing,” Darien replied, settling into the chair across from him.
“Ah, yes. Istanbul University’s golden boy,” he said, reaching for a folder on his desk. “No issues there. His academic record is stellar—top grades, glowing recommendations. The Admissions Committee reviewed it, and I’ve got his acceptance letter right here.” He slid a sealed envelope across the desk.
Darien exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “That’s a relief. So, what’s next? Visa application, I assume?”
“Exactly,” Jonathan confirmed. “He’ll need to apply for a student visa, but with this acceptance and his records, I don’t foresee any hurdles. If he needs guidance, have him reach out to our Office of Global Services. They’re pros at this.”
Darien nodded, pocketing the letter. “I appreciate this, Jonathan. Really. Baran’s got potential, and I couldn’t think of a better place for him.”
Jonathan waved it off with a smile. “Anything for you, Darien. You’ve got a good eye for talent.”
They exchanged a few more pleasantries before Darien left, his footsteps purposeful as he stopped at Global Servies to pick up some pamphlets to assist a student visa with the link to apply.
The rest of his day was a whirlwind of visits to children’s placement centers. At each stop, Darien introduced himself to the managers, taking time to ask about their needs. They spokeof everything from winter clothing to educational materials, and Darien meticulously noted it all down.
One manager, a middle-aged woman with a kind smile, handed him a list. “These are some of the essentials we’re short on,” she said.
“Thank you,” Darien replied. “I’ll see what I can do to help.”
By the time he finished with all his stops, he had to pick up Baran. He hoped for the best tonight.
Chapter Twenty-two
Baran
Baran walked alongside Darieninto the whimsical world of Gingerbread Lane, tucked away in a corner of New York City. The air smelled of spiced molasses and sugar, with a faint hint of peppermint that seemed to seep into his lungs. A sprawling display of candy-coated structures stretched out before them, each gingerbread house more elaborate than the last. Gumdrop chimneys, licorice windowsills, and frosting icicles adorned the miniature homes, creating a kaleidoscope under the strings of lights.
Baran scanned the area with a mix of curiosity and quiet awe. He folded his arms over his chest. The chill of the winter air was invigorating.
“What do you think?” Daddy Darien asked.
“It’s…a lot,” Baran admitted.
Daddy Darien grinned with boyish enthusiasm. “Yeah, it’s a lot. But it’s fun. And I thought we could build one together.” He gestured to a table where kits and candy decorations were laid out.
Baran hesitated for a moment but followed Daddy Darien to the station. They settled into their spots, the hum of cheerful voices and soft holiday music filling the air. Daddy Darien unpacked the kit, sliding pieces of gingerbread toward Baran.
“Here, you do the base,” Daddy Darien said, squeezing a tube of icing into Baran’s hand. “Think of it as…building something sturdy.”
Baran smirked faintly but started assembling the walls, his movements deliberate. “Are you sure you want me to be in charge of the foundation?”
Daddy Darien laughed. “It’s gingerbread. What could go wrong? Besides, if it collapses, we’ll eat the evidence.” The playful banter eased the tension lingering between them as slowly, their gingerbread house took shape. Daddy Darien added some gumdrops along the roofline, his fingers brushing Baran’s occasionally as they reached for the same decorations. Neither pulled away.
Baran’s fingers maneuvered deftly, pressing a gumdrop into place on the roof of the gingerbread house. The scent of cinnamon and sugar swirled in the cold air, mingling with Darien’s laughter as he fussed with frosting. Baran felt an unfamiliar lightness in his chest. Contentment. The anger and hurt he had carried last night felt distant, softened like the dusting snowflakes on the windows outside.
But the moment of peace was interrupted by a twinge of guilt. He should not have run away to think without leaving a message and without telling Daddy Darien. Baran didn’t know how to tell Daddy Darien he wasn’t angry anymore and that he had forgiven him. He stole a glance at Daddy Darien, who was focused intently on affixing a line of candy canes along the edge of the house. The sight made Baran’s heart ache with longing and nervous energy. How was he supposed to bring it up?
He picked up a licorice strip, his thoughts racing faster than his hands could work.What do I even say?Baran twisted the candy between his fingers.I don’t want to sleep in the guest room anymore. What if he thinks it’s too soon? Or I’m being ridiculous?His mind churned with possibilities, each one making his pulse quicken.
