Three years have passed. Ainur has moved to a quiet village where her father manages ancestral land. The air smells of shubat and grilled kebabs. There's music and dancing in the air.
A large jeep pulls up. Dust swirls. A family from the city arrives. Among them, grown taller and broader, now looking more like a protector than a lover—Arman.
AINUR (whispering to herself):
"No… It can't be."
Their eyes meet. His widen in shock. Hers narrow in pain.
Her Father Calls Out Cheerfully:
"Ainur! Come meet your cousin's nephew, Arman. He'll be helping out this summer."