Lera had grown accustomed to hating this man, simply because she didn’t know how else to feel about him. It had been that way for a long time. And now… what now? Should she keep hating him? How was she supposed to act in his presence? One thing was certain: a chance encounter with him had changed the entire course of her life.
In any case, Lera would have to play it by ear now, because avoiding him was impossible. She had known that ever since she agreed to the internship at “Vision.”
Stanislav—Stas Korsun—was a secret from eight years ago, one that still haunted Lera in her nightmares. Back then, it happened often. She would wake up in the middle of the night, paralyzed, agitated, wrestling with a sense of injustice and, at the same time, plagued by guilt. Sleep would elude her for hours afterward. She couldn’t even cry. Something held her back. Over time, the dreams lost their vividness and mostly stopped troubling her, but in the past week, they had returned. Perhaps it was her anxiety about the inevitable reunion manifesting itself.
Stas, as it turned out, didn’t remember her at all. But that was for the best. It was exactly what Lera wanted. As for why it was for the best, now wasn’t the time to dwell on it or dig up old memories.
His blue eyes, framed by heavy lids, bored into her face. Holding his direct, almost insistent gaze was no easy feat, but Lera forced herself not to look away. She even managed to curl the corners of her mouth into a polite smile.
“We met at your wedding with Ilona,” she explained, meeting his gaze head-on. “I was just an eighteen-year-old girl back then.” Korsun furrowed his brows, clearly still not placing her. “Dad invited me to be one of the bridesmaids.”
“Valeriy personally invited you?” Stas asked, his tone just as somber.
“One of Ilona’s friends fell ill, I think with chickenpox, so I had to step in.”
“Still doesn’t ring a bell, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you, though.”
“I understand completely. It’s only natural that a groom only has eyes for his bride on his wedding day. Don’t worry about me. David’s been helping me get settled among all these unfamiliar faces. I’m grateful to him.”
Zontov nodded, while the corner of Korsun’s sharply defined mouth twitched, as if he were about to smile. At the wedding, he had smiled broadly, ear to ear. Not often, mind you, but when he did, it was as if he glowed from within. In those moments, Korsun became truly handsome. At the very least, it was hard to look away from him.
During that fateful event, Lera had only stolen glances at him, careful not to let anyone—especially Stas—notice. Even in her stressed state, she had managed to commit certain details to memory. Where had that inner light gone in the eight years since? Maybe Korsun was just in a bad mood today? Not that it was any of Lera’s concern—nor could it be. It would be perverse to care about the feelings of a man who…
“Valeriy has assigned you to my department. So, it’ll be my job to help you get up to speed. I’ll show you what I know, and you’ll learn as best you can. But that starts tomorrow. For now…” Stas paused and raised his glass. “To the festive start of your internship, to our new acquaintance, and… to ‘Vision’!”
Now she definitely needed a drink. Her hands had started to tremble ever so slightly from the mounting nerves, and that was bad. An ophthalmologist couldn’t afford such a luxury.
Lera knew there were only three departments at the ophthalmology clinic, so the odds of ending up under Stas’s supervision were high. Still, she had hoped that, given the circumstances of her life, her father wouldn’t send his daughter from a mistress to train under the husband of his legitimate daughter. But Valeriy Bokshay always acted according to his own views on life, guided by his personal desires and reasoning. Lera had long since stopped romanticizing him, and as for the dreams many illegitimate children harbor—that their parents might one day reunite—she had abandoned those in her teenage years.
Still, Bokshay remained her father, even if not the best of them. Lera loved him for who he was, though in recent years she had kept her distance. Eight years ago, she had disappointed Valeriy, though not by her own choice. Yet, he continued to help her, looking out for her in his own way.
But now that her placement at the clinic was finalized, Lera couldn’t request a transfer to another department without providing a reason—and it would have to be a significant one. The only substantial, weighty reason was the truth, a secret Lera had kept buried for eight years. But she couldn’t bring herself to tell her own father. She had hidden the truth even from her mother.
As a result, from now on, she would have to see Korsun and speak with him far more often than she would like.
Whether it was less or more often… for her own peace of mind, the best thing for Lera would be to avoid the clinic altogether. But she needed to work somewhere, and before that, she needed to gain the necessary skills. Unfortunately, the basics learned at university weren’t enough for a professional. That held true for any field, but especially for medicine.
Still, it was fortunate that Korsun didn’t remember her—not just from the wedding ceremony, but at all. Now, she just needed to learn to look at him calmly, without provoking unnecessary questions. And she had to be careful not to accidentally let slip something no one knew. If it depended on Lera, no one ever would.
“Stas…” Ilona materialized beside Korsun, linking her arm through his. He gave her a brief glance, one that conveyed nothing, which surprised Lera. “Dad’s calling for you. The mayor has some questions only you can answer. David…” Ilona nodded in greeting to the chief medical officer, then her gaze slid over to her sister. Her eyebrows lifted. “Lera? I didn’t recognize you from a distance.”
The same height as her sister, Ilona was reed-thin and noticeably lighter. In every other way, they still looked alike, and that would never change—unless Ilona suddenly opted for plastic surgery. Even in her younger years, she had complained about her less-than-delicate nose, imperfect earlobes, and a host of other supposed flaws. Lera wasn’t interested in such trivialities, so she no longer remembered all of her sister’s grievances. For now, she didn’t notice any cosmetic changes. Ilona had only started highlighting her blonde hair—identical to Lera’s—and styled it according to the latest trends, while slimming down to model proportions. Standing next to her, Lera felt like a clumsy giant.
“Hey,” Lera said in a muted tone, then fell silent.
She couldn’t think of anything else to say or ask her older sister. Surely not about the weather. And in that regard, nothing had changed. Even as children, they had interacted like strangers. Maybe later, once Lera settled into her role at the clinic and they saw each other more often, something might shift. After all, Ilona worked at the clinic too. Lera had no plans to visit family at home—in fact, she would do her utmost to avoid it, even if her father insisted. But when it came to work, it was in their mutual interest to communicate calmly, without any drama.
“Dad mentioned you’d be working at the clinic, but I didn’t expect him to invite you to tonight’s celebration. It’s such an important event. And with such distinguished guests.”
Ilona’s voice carried familiar dismissive, haughty undertones, more characteristic of her mother. Her words came across as if Lera were unworthy not only of being here but of receiving an invitation at all. Though it wasn’t her father who had invited her, and the room wasn’t exclusively filled with doctors—other clinic staff were present too—according to her sister, Lera didn’t belong here. Perhaps not even at the clinic.
Still, Lera couldn’t bring herself to be too angry with Ilona. She still felt guilty toward her sister, even though, in essence, she wasn’t at fault. She doubted she’d ever shake off that draining feeling. If anything, it might intensify once they started seeing each other more often. And that was inevitable.
What was she supposed to do? Run away? Tell her father she’d changed her mind and disappoint him yet again? And what about her real family—the ones who truly mattered? They were counting on her, and that was far more important than her father’s approval. As for her sister’s opinion, Lera couldn’t care less. So, what was the conclusion?
Running wasn’t an option. If Lera Velyhorska had been given the chance to work in a good place, she’d be a complete fool not to take it.
But what should she say to Ilona?
Korsun spared Lera the need to find the right words. She caught his brief, piercing glance a split second before he spoke:
“The mayor, you say? Alright… Lead the way.”