“Breakfast is on the table!” Justine called out loudly before rushing off to get ready for work.
“I don’t want to eat!” came the immediate reply from her daughter, Stella, echoing from her room.
“You’ve got to have something in the morning,” Serge Vert, Justine’s husband, said sternly. On his way to the kitchen, he gave his wife a quick peck on the cheek and continued, “Stella, come to the table right now!”
“I’ll eat at daycare,” the little girl insisted. Independent as ever, she had already dressed herself in burgundy corduroy pants, a matching t-shirt, and a pink long-sleeved sweater. She came to Justine for help with her hair.
This scene played out day after day. Serge believed in a hearty breakfast, while Stella, at seven-fifteen in the morning, had no appetite. This was their usual breakfast time since Serge had to be at work by eight sharp. He drove Justine and Stella to daycare, after which Justine made her own way to the hospital.
Of course, they’d prefer their daughter to eat something homemade in the morning, but Justine didn’t want to force her. She saw no point in it.
She hadn’t yet changed into her work clothes, but she set aside the dress she’d picked out, grabbed a comb, and began brushing her daughter’s long hair.
“Stella, your oatmeal’s getting cold!” Serge pressed on.
Justine caught her daughter’s stubborn expression in the mirror and decided to step in. After all, she’d be the one dealing with any fallout, and time was running short.
“Honey, it’s not the end of the world if Stella eats at daycare today.”
Serge didn’t respond, but Justine knew this recurring conversation was far from over. She braided Stella’s hair into two neat plaits, secured them with bright pink hair ties, and hurriedly slipped into her dress. She tied her own hair into a bun at the nape of her neck, glanced at her reflection in the mirror, and grimaced. There was no time for makeup.
“Mom, you look so funny,” Stella giggled at her expression.
“Oh, well. As long as I’m not scary,” Justine teased, playfully tugging one of her daughter’s braids. “Go put your shoes on.”
Justine headed to the kitchen to at least grab a sip of coffee.
“Trying to give yourself an ulcer?” Serge asked, watching her wince as she gulped down the hot coffee. He’d already cleared his plate and was sipping his own cup. “You don’t eat, and you’re not teaching our kid to either?”
“Why are you starting this again? Missing one breakfast won’t hurt. I’ll eat at the hospital.”
“Justine, do you think I enjoy having this talk over and over?” Truthfully, Justine did think so. Above all, Serge loved to lecture and make his point. She chalked it up to his profession as a university professor. Serge taught surgery at the university and had been leading classes in his field for years. Early in their marriage, he hadn’t seemed so tiresome. Justine hoped that once he achieved his dream of becoming department head, he’d stop nitpicking over every little thing. After all, they’d been together for so long that they could accept each other’s flaws. She skipped breakfast; Serge got annoyed about it—typical family life. So, she stayed silent. “I care about you both, and it matters to me when and how you eat. You’re a doctor; you should understand that.”
“I do understand,” Justine agreed, turning to the sink to wash her cup. To steer the conversation away, she decided to change the subject. “By the way, I ran into our neighbor Mrs. Simmons on the landing yesterday.”
“She’s back from abroad?”
“Yes, but not for long. She married a Polish man and sold her apartment here.”
“So she’ll have nowhere to come back to? Women are such strange creatures,” Serge said, pushing his cup away. Justine reached for it to wash it as well.
“Maybe her marriage will be a happy one, and she won’t need to come back,” she added, turning on the faucet again.
“Justine, you’re an incurable optimist.”
“Maybe so. Is that a crime? Besides, it’s her business whether to sell her place or not. Either way, we’ll have new neighbors soon. I hope they’re around our age! We could become friends.”
“As long as these new neighbors don’t have any bad habits.”
“That’s important. You’re right.”
“Of course. I’m always right.” Serge stood up from the table. “So, shall we get going? I’ve got an early class, and we’re short on time.”
“Start the car. We’re coming down now…”
* * *
Justine left Stella with her daycare teacher and stepped outside. She took a deep breath and glanced up at the sky.
Lately, she rarely looked up—there was never enough time. The days slipped by so quickly that October had nearly passed unnoticed. Soon, the winter holidays would be here. She needed to start thinking about gifts…
Justine, Justine, where are you rushing off to? It’s still just fall.
The air carried the rich scent of fallen leaves, and the sky wasn’t as deep a blue as it had been in summer. Thankfully, the rains hadn’t yet turned the landscape into a dreary sight. Only the wind played with the leaves and nudged passersby to button up their coats.
Justine sighed, adjusted her coat, and hurried toward the hospital, mentally reviewing her plans for the day. She dashed into the residents’ lounge just a minute before the workday began. The surgeons were already heading to the department head’s office for the daily morning briefing. Justine slipped in last, quietly standing behind her colleagues.
Serge, though he practiced here, rarely attended these briefings. He had his own office in the surgical department, where he usually worked with students.
The department head, Max Tkach, who was nearing fifty-five, invited the on-call doctors to report on their shifts in his usual monotone. After they finished, Max read out the list of scheduled surgeries and the doctors assigned to them. At the end, he added unexpectedly:
“We have a new colleague, an anesthesiologist. He’ll be assisting with surgeries today. Additionally, the head of the ICU has appointed him as our consultant. Everyone, meet Jeremy Babat.”
Justine thought she must have misheard, so she stood on her tiptoes and peered over the broad shoulder of Peter Koval. It really was him—Jeremy, a former classmate of hers and Serge’s.
What a surprise! What was he doing so far from the capital?
* * *
Jeremy stood with his back to the window, so she couldn’t get a good look at him. All she could tell was that at thirty-five, he was still trim and hadn’t gone bald. His voice seemed unchanged too, judging by the brief, businesslike “Hello, colleagues” he offered.
Did Serge already know Jeremy would be working at their hospital? How long was he staying? Why had he moved here of all places, when he’d been working in the capital? At least, that’s what she’d heard. At the last alumni reunion, it had been a hot topic since Jeremy hadn’t shown up. He’d never attended any of them.
Back in university, she and Jeremy hadn’t been friends or even talked much. Justine couldn’t recall a single conversation with him. There’d been no conflicts, but nothing in common either, beyond their classes. She and Serge had been laser-focused on their medical studies, skipping parties and clubbing, and bonded over that shared dedication. Eventually, they fell in love. By their third year, they were married and had been nearly inseparable ever since.
Young and full of energy, Justine and Serge had planned to marry after finishing university—or even later, to focus on mastering their profession and landing good jobs. But their parents had other ideas. The couple was already living together in an apartment owned by Justine’s grandmother, not wanting to waste time on dates outside. One day, Justine’s concerned father and Serge’s mother insisted they make it official. Well, it would’ve happened sooner or later anyway, so Justine and Serge agreed—and they’d never regretted it.
That’s why, aside from Serge, Justine hadn’t paid much attention to any of the other guys in their class. She didn’t see them as men. Why would she? Her focus was on medicine and Serge—serious, intelligent, ambitious, driven, positive, and handsome from every angle. A great guy, no matter how you looked at it.
Jeremy Babat, on the other hand, she remembered as quite different. Well, almost. Also good-looking and incredibly charming, he was always getting into some kind of trouble. Sometimes it seemed like he sought out drama on purpose, even enjoyed it. Whatever the case, it wasn’t just that which kept his name on everyone’s lips. The girls in their class saw Jeremy as pure temptation and relentlessly pursued him. At times, Justine felt like she was the only one immune to his charm.
Even back in their student days, Jeremy had his own car—a luxury not every student could afford. That’s when classmates started whispering that his parents must be well-off. Despite his active social life, Jeremy never invited anyone over to his place. Instead, he’d ask friends and girlfriends to meet at clubs. So, no one really knew where he lived or who funded his lifestyle.
Once, Jeremy got into a serious fight with someone. No one witnessed it, but there’s no smoke without fire. He was even expelled from medical school over it, though he was quickly reinstated. That, too, hinted that Jeremy Babat wasn’t just anyone.
Until now, Justine hadn’t given him much thought. But now that they’d be working together, it might be wise to know at least something about him—just in case. She needed to be sure she could rely on this person if push came to shove.
Justine didn’t like surprises. There were enough of those in surgery, where the unexpected could crop up at any moment. Surgery was far too unpredictable. When she’d entered medical school, Justine hadn’t imagined she’d become a surgeon, but she did. Of course, there were a few significant reasons for that…
Justine only realized the morning briefing had ended when Peter Koval turned to her and, from his towering height, asked:
“Justine, you okay?”
She blinked a few times, as if snapping back to the present, and smiled.
“Yeah.” Koval squinted skeptically. “Really, I’m fine. I just… got lost in thought for a moment.”
“Then let’s get moving before we’re swept out of here.”
Justine was walking down the hospital corridor when a voice called out behind her:
“Hey!”
She stopped, turned around, and looked at Jeremy with genuine surprise. Had he recognized her?
“Hey.”
His dark gray eyes studied her with noticeable curiosity. A faint smile lifted the corners of his well-defined mouth. Instinctively, Justine smoothed her hair, only to remember it was tied up. It was an old habit, practically from her school days. After she started dating Serge, it had faded away, but now it unexpectedly resurfaced. And for some reason, she felt flustered.
“You haven’t changed a bit, Jus.” Jus? Only her mom called her that, after a character from a book she’d read while pregnant. But Jeremy couldn’t know that. Serge hated nicknames like that, so everyone called her Justine. Stunned, she wasn’t sure how to respond to the compliment. If it even was a compliment. Jeremy’s expression suddenly darkened. “You are Justine, right? I’m not mistaken?”
Why was she so tongue-tied? She wasn’t a teenager anymore and usually spoke to men as equals.
“You’re not mistaken,” Justine reminded herself he was just a colleague and forced a smile. “I’m just… surprised you remember me.”
“Me too,” Jeremy said with a smile, this time a little shyly.
What did he mean by that?
“I don’t follow. What are you getting at?”
“I’m standing there, not knowing anyone, not expecting much, when suddenly, over some guy’s broad shoulder, I see these wide, curious blue eyes. That’s when I was surprised.”
So he noticed!
“Why surprised?”
“I didn’t think Justine Lelych would still be here, in our little corner of the world. You’re not from this town, are you? Unless I’m mixing things up.”
Wow, he remembered her maiden name! And she hadn’t gone to high school in this city.
“I haven’t been Lelych for a long time. I’m Vert now. Serge and I got married back in university.”
“I know. But in the class roster, you were still listed as Lelych.”
“But my diploma has my married name,” Justine insisted, for some reason.
Jeremy tilted his head to the side.
“You’re still together?”
“Of course!” she replied sharply, somehow offended by the question.
“Now it makes sense why you’re still here.” What made sense to him? Justine’s curiosity was piqued, but she didn’t get the chance to ask. Jeremy turned and waved to someone. “I’ve got to go. See you around.”
Justine watched as Jeremy strode confidently down the hospital corridor, noticed how women’s eyes followed him, and thought to herself that not much had changed since their university days.