Zhuhan Dogan of Dogan Holdings, Istanbul was beside herself with frustration. Here she was shouldering the media empire of Turkey, but could not be herself. The pressure and stress of the job was weighing her down. She was forty something, alone and childless.
After being listed on the Istanbul Stock Exchange, her father hardly stepped into the Dogan Building. He had taken on an Onassis-like life with his new American wife, sailing the Mediterranean most of the year.
She had many ideas for moving the company forward, but no inspiration to follow through. The wheels just keep turning. There was no fire.
A spark did light up after a chance meeting at a wedding. Political circles were full of expected intrigue and money, but the bride of an up and coming politician sent alarm bells ringing in her head.
Zhuhan and Ruhsar became friends. They found commonalities that seem too much of a coincidence, so they called it fate. With all the good fortune at their feet, they wanted to be some one else.
Perhaps they were borne of independent genes, that is to say, the type of person who could stand on their own, do their own thing and not be accountable to anyone else. They did not feel the need to belong to another, until now.
They became close, shrouded by their existing lives as successful dutiful daughter and high fashion wife. Rushar probably travelled more with Zhuhan than she ever did with her husband. It suited the trio fine.
Ruhsar's visit to Konya however did undermine the womens' relationship. Her one night stand with an old lover, Namuk, hit at Zhuhan's core.
She came to the realisation that in the end one exists alone and remains alone.