The TOKİ house was ready in six weeks.
Mehmet received the news from his father, who called on a Thursday evening. Hasan's voice was different—lighter, younger, as if a weight had been lifted.
"They showed us the house today," he said. "Three bedrooms. A real kitchen. Central heating. A balcony overlooking the street." He paused. "Your mother walked through every room. Without her cane."
"She walked without her cane?"
"Just for a few steps. But she did it." Hasan's voice cracked. "Mehmet, she hasn't walked without her cane since the stroke."
Mehmet closed his eyes. "When do you move?"
"Next week. The officials said we can take our time. They'll cover the moving costs."
"And the job?"
"I start in two weeks. The Provincial Directorate of Agriculture. They said I'll be working in the office—paperwork, mostly. Nothing heavy." Hasan laughed—a real laugh, the kind Mehmet hadn't heard in years. "Your father, a civil servant. Who would have thought?"
"I'm proud of you, Baba."
"I'm proud of you." Hasan's voice steadied. "We'll send you the new address. Come home when you can."
"I will."
---
His mother's medical examination took place the same week.
The chief physician of Atatürk University Research Hospital called personally—a neurosurgeon named Professor Yıldırım, who had been briefed on the case. Hatice Aydemir was admitted for three days of testing: MRIs, blood work, neurological exams, physical therapy assessments.
The results were better than expected.
"The brain has shown remarkable plasticity," Professor Yıldırım told Mehmet over the phone. "The damage from the stroke is still present, but the surrounding tissue has compensated. With continued therapy, your mother may regain most of the function in her left side."
"Most?"
"Eighty percent. Perhaps more. It will take time—a year, maybe two. But she is young. She is motivated. She has a family that loves her." The professor paused. "You should know, Mehmet: the care she has received so far—the therapy, the medication, the monitoring—has been good. But the resources we have at this hospital are better. We can do more here."
"Do whatever is necessary," Mehmet said. "Please."
"We will."
---
The family moved into the TOKİ house on a Saturday.
Mehmet could not be there—he had classes, exams, responsibilities in Istanbul. But his father sent photos: the empty living room, the kitchen with its new appliances, the balcony with its view of the Palandöken mountains. His mother stood in one photo, her good hand resting on Belkis's shoulder, smiling.
He saved the photo to his phone and looked at it before bed each night.