Justine only got a chance to talk with her husband after his second university class. She was passing by his office just as students were filing out. For a moment, she lingered by the door, watching Serge speak with a female student, listening intently and explaining something with a serious expression. In that moment, he looked so handsome that Justine couldn’t help but admire him.
The role of teacher and mentor suited him perfectly. That’s how Serge had always been, practically from the first day they met. He could justify anything, presenting arguments so solid you couldn’t disagree. His thoughtfulness had made a strong impression on Justine right away. While other guys their age talked about sports and girls, Serge was busy making plans for the future and meticulously checking off every item on his list. And when he saw her, Justine, not just as a diligent, straight-A student but as a woman—the first man to do so—she knew he was her other half and fell in love…
Serge noticed her and promptly wrapped up his conversation. Once the student left, Justine stepped into the office and closed the door behind her. Serge took a few steps toward her and gave her a brief, restrained kiss.
“How’s your day going?” he asked, returning to his desk. “Put the kettle on. I’ve got a bit of time and I’m dying for a coffee.”
Justine pulled the electric kettle from the cabinet and headed to the sink.
“It’s going as usual. Same old routine—rounds, dressings, no scheduled surgeries for me today.” Justine filled the kettle with water and switched it on. She took out two mugs, a jar of ground coffee, a sugar bowl, and a teaspoon from the cabinet. “I’ve got some cookies in my bag. I’ll grab them.”
Justine would’ve loved to go out for lunch with her husband. They rarely got the chance to spend time alone together. But Serge’s work schedule didn’t account for a lunch break.
Serge looked up from a student’s grade book for a moment to say:
“I don’t want cookies. I stepped on the scale in the admissions department after my first class and… We need to cut back on sugar and bread.”
Justine sighed quietly and put the sugar bowl back in the cabinet.
How did he imagine this working? The only one eating candy and pastries in their apartment was Stella. They only kept rye bread in the breadbox. To avoid upsetting Serge, Justine ate chocolate only at work. Compared to her student days, she’d gained just a few pounds and definitely didn’t need to lose weight. But her husband craved her support, so Justine willingly joined him on his self-imposed diets for companionship.
In Justine’s opinion, Serge was in pretty good shape himself. All his worries about extra weight stemmed from the fact that his mother struggled with severe obesity. Serge, who resembled her closely in appearance, feared he might have inherited a predisposition to weight gain and kept it under strict control. But if it was important to him, who was she to argue? She had her own fears and insecurities aplenty.
The kettle clicked off, and Justine started preparing the coffee.
“How did your classes go?”
She scooped a spoonful of coffee into each mug and poured in the boiling water.
“As usual.” Serge put down his pen and pushed the grade book aside. “These students don’t study at all. It’s awful! I don’t know how they plan to work in this field. These are the basics of their profession. With how fast medicine is advancing—not just medicine, everything—they’ll fall behind by years, if not decades!”
“If no one studies, then there won’t be anyone to fall behind,” Justine teased.
“They’ll fall behind us!” Serge exclaimed, slamming his hand on the desk. “And anyway, this isn’t a joking matter. With trends like this, there won’t be anyone to turn to for help when we’re old.”
She shouldn’t have made that joke. She’d hoped to lighten the mood and help him relax a bit, but it backfired.
“Serge, please, don’t get so worked up. It won’t change anything. Take care of your health.”
Justine walked over to Serge and hugged him, but he pulled away.
“Easy for you to say. You don’t see this every day. Give me at least one example to calm me down.”
Justine began massaging his neck and shoulders. This time, he didn’t flinch.
“You want an example? Fine. First, there have always been students who didn’t study hard. Think back to our class. Only those who truly wanted to work stayed in medicine—it’s not an easy job. Second, it’s way too early for us to worry about old age. And third…”
Justine managed to perch on her husband’s lap, wrapped her arms around him, and kissed him. Serge didn’t respond. Wow, he was really upset! She kissed him again. Only on the third try did Serge return her kiss.
“So, what’s the third point?”
“Third, you’ve got me, and I’ve got you. We’ll always help each other, and we won’t need to ask anyone else.”
“You’re an incurable optimist, Justine.”
“Maybe. Is that a bad thing?”
“I don’t know,” Serge said, leaning back. “But you’d better get off my lap now. Someone might walk in and see.”
“So what? We’re married, and everyone knows it.”
Despite her words, Justine stood up and went to get the coffee. What was the point of trying to be affectionate if he wasn’t in the mood?
“True, but we have to maintain our image. I teach students and need to set an example. Not just for them, but for the department staff too. I’m the only associate professor from the faculty here.”
Even back in their student days, before Serge was an associate professor, he’d insisted they behave with restraint outside their apartment. Though young Justine had craved kisses and hugs beyond just at home, she’d agreed to his terms. What else could she do? Demand affection when he was against it?
But at home, in private, everything was fine between them, so Justine bit her tongue and placed the coffee in front of her husband.
They drank in silence. After emptying his mug, Serge pushed it away and stood up.
“I’ve got to go. They’re expecting me at the dean’s office. I’ll be back for my fourth class.”
While Serge changed, Justine washed the mugs and spoons, put them away in the cabinet, and suddenly remembered something.
“By the way, do you already know?”
“Know what? Justine, I don’t have time for your riddles. I’m in a hurry.”
“Then good luck.”
Now genuinely hurt, she headed for the door. After all, she wasn’t a clown to entertain him or a secretary to report the news. He’d find out eventually. She had plenty of her own tasks to handle.
“Wait!” Serge suddenly called out. Justine stopped and turned around reluctantly. He approached her and, unexpectedly, kissed her passionately. “Don’t be upset, okay?”
“I’m not upset.”
Though Justine was still annoyed, the sting of hurt had mostly faded.
“You are, but you shouldn’t be. You know how much I love you. You do know that, right?”
“I do.”
“I’ve just got a lot on my plate. And the issue with my professorship still isn’t resolved. You know how much I’ve worked for this. We’ve worked for this. Together. I don’t want it to be for nothing. Agreed?”
“Agreed.”
How could it be otherwise? They were one unit.
“So, what’s the news?”
“Jeremy Babat is working with us now.”
Serge’s expression changed instantly. He froze, and after a moment, asked:
“What?”
“I mean, he’s already started. The department head introduced him to the team at this morning’s meeting.”
“Without my approval?” Justine doubted the hospital director would consult her husband on staffing decisions, but she kept quiet. “I need to speak with Tkach right away. People like Babat don’t belong in a respectable hospital.”
Justine stared at her husband, unable to fathom why he was so angry. Why didn’t Jeremy belong here? He hadn’t been a top student in university, but he was still working as a doctor, so he must know something.
“Babat won’t be on duty in our department,” she added, trying once again to calm him down.
“Where, then?”
“In the ICU. He’s an anesthesiologist.”
“Oh, I see! So they kicked him out of surgery?”
Kicked out? People can change specialties for all sorts of reasons.
But Justine didn’t say that out loud. Instead, she said wearily:
“I don’t know.”
Their conversation today had been oddly tense.
“Fine. We’ll figure it out later. It’s not important enough to dwell on.” Serge kissed her again and looked into her eyes. “Remember that I love you.”
Justine nodded and brushed her lips against his cheek.
“I love you too.”
* * *
The next day, Justine had to get out of bed an hour earlier than usual. It wasn’t due to any emergency.
She was on night duty tonight, so she needed to prepare not just breakfast but dinner as well. Plus, something Serge could have for breakfast tomorrow. True, he didn’t like reheating food—or doing anything in the kitchen, for that matter—but he put up with it on days like this.
Serge wouldn’t mind if Justine didn’t have night shifts at all, but that was impossible at the hospital. To avoid shifts, she’d have to switch to a clinic—private or public. There were no openings at the city’s private clinics, and they lacked the connections to get in anyway. Public clinics paid surgeons a pittance.
There was another reason Justine hadn’t changed jobs. Serge didn’t want her working elsewhere. He preferred having his wife nearby. Justine found that very romantic. So, she wasn’t in a rush to change anything, even though keeping up with the pace of the surgical department grew harder each year. After all, she also managed the household.
“Not ready yet?” came a voice from behind her.
“Just plating it now.”
Justine quickly spooned fluffy buckwheat and a cutlet onto a plate, added a tomato salad, and set it in front of her husband. Serge, already dressed and shaved, caught her hand and said softly:
“Thanks for last night.”
Justine blushed and smiled with satisfaction. Last night, her husband had been especially passionate, and she’d matched his energy. Plus, he didn’t always thank her for nights like that. At least, Justine wasn’t used to it.
“I enjoyed it too,” she said sincerely, as she felt.
“Shh. Stella might hear. Just pass me a fork,” Serge frowned.
Her mood soured instantly. Why did he have to say that?
“Stella wouldn’t understand anything from our conversation. She’s still little.”
Justine pulled a fork from the drawer and placed it in front of him.
“Exactly. Let’s not get her used to overhearing candid conversations from a young age. It’s corrupting.” Justine didn’t see how their brief exchange could corrupt anyone, but she stayed silent. Starting the morning with an argument wasn’t the best way to kick off the day. “Stella, come eat breakfast!” Serge suddenly shouted. Justine burned her finger on the pan and immediately stuck her hand under cold water. Hopefully, there wouldn’t be a blister. She still had to work in gloves.
“I don’t want to eat!” came the reply from the children’s room.
“You have to have breakfast!” Serge insisted. “Justine, where’s her plate?”
“Stella won’t eat anyway,” Justine snapped without turning around. “I’ll set it out if she comes.”
“But the child needs to see that her mother wants her to eat breakfast.”
Justine silently replicated Serge’s plate and set it on the kitchen table. It was easier than arguing every time.
“Breakfast is on the table!” Serge called out.
“I’ll eat at daycare!” Stella held her ground.
“She’s so stubborn. She gets that from you,” Serge declared. “By the way, you forgot my coffee.”
Though Justine didn’t see how she was stubborn, she turned off the stove, poured coffee into a mug, and placed it in front of him.
“I’m going to get dressed.”
“I forgot to mention, I’m in a rush. So, braid Stella’s hair first, then get dressed. I’ll drop her off at daycare, and you can take the bus. Okay?”
Did she have a choice?
“I made cheese pancakes for dinner. I’ll put them in the fridge before I leave. They just need to be reheated in the microwave. There’s also leftover buckwheat and cutlets. You’ll find them in the fridge if you need them.”
“Can those go in the microwave too?”
“Yes.”
“Alright…”
* * *
Throughout the day, Justine only saw her husband from a distance. First, Serge was conducting practical sessions, and after lunch, he went to deliver a lecture. So, he wouldn’t be back at the hospital today.
Justine wasn’t idle either. Rounds, dressings, a scheduled gallbladder surgery where she assisted, and then a patient with acute pancreatitis was admitted to her ward… That’s how it happened that she only managed to sit on the couch in the residents’ lounge to rest around three in the afternoon.
She craved coffee, but then remembered she hadn’t eaten lunch yet.
Another dose of caffeine on an empty stomach? It wouldn’t take much to end up with not just gastritis but a stomach ulcer. But to eat lunch, she’d have to go somewhere—at least down to the first floor where there was a small café for a quick bite. And Justine’s feet were aching.
While she hesitated, torn between the need to eat and the desire to sit for at least an hour, Peter Koval walked into the lounge. She’d assisted him during surgery earlier that day.
He looked at Justine and stated:
“You look tired.”
“A little.” Peter approached the coffee machine, loaded it with grounds, and turned it on. The fresh aroma of coffee made Justine’s stomach growl loudly. “Sorry,” she said awkwardly.
“Why are you apologizing? It’s a natural reaction, and the only way to stop it is with medication or food. When did you last eat?”
It must’ve been a piece of cake a senior nurse had offered her when Justine stopped by on an errand.
“A while ago,” she sighed. “I’ll head down to the café now. I don’t want to go outside the hospital. It’s pouring out there.”
“Is it?” Koval walked to the window and shook his head. “I hadn’t noticed. With our job, there’s no time to look around. You’re right—it’s pouring, and I’m without a car today. I’ll need to find an umbrella.”
“Take mine,” Justine offered, standing up. She went to the cabinet, pulled out her umbrella, and handed it to Peter.
“What about you?”
“I’m on duty tonight.”
“With Yaroslav and Arthur?”
“Yeah.”
“Then you’ll get some rest. Yaroslav’s shifts rarely have emergency surgeries.”
“I wouldn’t mind a break,” Justine smiled and pulled her wallet from her bag. “I need to grab lunch.”
She was already at the door when Peter asked:
“What do you think of the new anesthesiologist?”
Jeremy had managed a patient during the surgery she and Peter performed today.
“Hard to say.” Justine hadn’t yet figured out how competent Jeremy was. “He seemed to handle everything properly.”
“I thought so too. Keep an eye on him, okay? I’d like to know what kind of person he is.”
“Why me?”
“You’re on duty tonight. So is he.”
Well, there you go.
“Alright, I’ll keep an eye out.”