Stepping off the plane in Turkey, my stomach tied in knots.
“You okay?” my partner, Kelly, asked, slipping her hand into mine.
“Fine,” I replied. “It’s just weird being back.”
It was 2020, and the last time I’d been in Turkey was in 2012, seeking out my biological family.
I’d been born in Turkey but adopted as a baby by an Australian family.
When I was 18, I flew with my adoptive mum, Zulfinaz, 60, to my birth town, Ayvallk, to learn about my heritage.
In a twist of fate, I received a Facebook message from a male stranger not long after we’d arrived.
I’d recently made a new account with my real name after my old one, where I’d used a fake name, got hacked.
I’ve been looking for…