The door closed behind Olena Olehivna, and Rodan walked over to the window. Outside was the same old view—the hospital courtyard, covered in rather dated asphalt. In spring and summer, the scene was brightened by whitewashed curbs and flowers in the beds, but in November, everything was gray. The facade, renovated while he was abroad, looked a bit cheerier.
Rodan turned his back to the window and leaned against the sill. Inside the office, everything was just as it had been ten years ago—heavy, sturdy, and very old. It felt like the room had last been furnished right after the hospital was built. That would’ve been about forty-five years ago. Even in this, Vasyl Vasylovych had shown his conservative streak. Rodan badly wanted to replace the bulky furniture with something modern, but such changes weren’t a priority right now.
First, he needed to get a handle on the department’s operations, inspect the wards, and get to know the staff better. He remembered some of them from his internship days, but even they could have changed. If he himself had become a different person in the time he’d been away, what could he say about his colleagues? He’d grown up in every sense of the word. Become more thoughtful, more restrained. At least, that’s how Rodan saw himself.
With that thought came another. Or rather, it had been there earlier, patiently waiting its turn.
Kvitka.
From the moment the deputy chief medical officer showed him the staff list, Rodan had been consumed by an overwhelming desire to see her. What was she like now? Still as charming and fiery as ever, or had time changed her too?
At first, he hadn’t even known what to expect from this completely unexpected reunion. But when his ex-wife walked into the office, Rodan felt genuine joy. He could literally feel a warmth spreading inside him, and an intense urge to smile. And to hug her tightly—really tightly.
It was strange, considering they’d parted ways by mutual agreement. But Kvitka had taken it so calmly that, over the years, Rodan had convinced himself it was the right decision.
She’d blossomed. The sweet, determined girl from a decade ago had transformed into an attractive woman. Beautiful. Alluring. Though, truth be told, he hadn’t been able to resist her ten years ago either.
And where had that led? To a quick, short-lived marriage? They hadn’t even had time to truly know each other—beyond the physical. Their likes, interests, views on life—most of that, with few exceptions, remained a mystery to both of them. At least, it certainly did to Rodan. And yet, he hadn’t regretted their shared experience for a single moment. Though he only realized that later.
There was a time—a few years after the divorce—when Rodan tried not to think about his Kvitka. But eventually, he let the memories float free. Maybe that’s why only the pleasant moments usually came to mind. Why dwell on the bad, the sad, or the unbearable?
Still, he shouldn’t have hugged her today. It took effort to let go. But he’d manage somehow. The important thing was not to make the same mistake again. Physical attraction, even if strong and mutual, wasn’t everything.
Rodan closed his eyes and immediately saw Kvitka as she was when they first met.
Back then, he was finishing his internship in his hometown, had already passed the exams for an international residency program at a university in Prague to earn a globally recognized diploma, and was set to leave for further training in a few months. Kvitka, meanwhile, had just started her sixth year and began her practical training in the surgical department.
Their first meeting was nothing short of epic. Rodan was leaving this very office after Vasylishyn had called him in for a serious talk about something important. He hadn’t even grabbed the doorknob yet when Kvitka flung the door open from the corridor side. And she did it, as she did everything, with all her heart and no restraint.
When the door slammed into his forehead with full force, Rodan thought for a moment he’d gone blind. Then he saw an angel in a pristine white uniform. Dark golden hair, greenish-brown startled eyes, a half-open, tempting mouth, and soft, cool little hands that immediately touched his bruised forehead.
But neither of them started apologizing. “Who walks out like that?” and “Who barges in like that?” came out almost in unison.
— Rodan Stepanovych?
He had to open his eyes and push the untimely thoughts aside.
— Yes, Olena Olehivna?
He gestured for the senior nurse to come in, but she shook her head.
— Never mind. You mentioned you’d be taking night shifts. When should I schedule you?
— On the same nights as Kvitka Matviivna, — Rodan forbade himself from wondering what Olena Olehivna might think of this, knowing she couldn’t have forgotten the stormy history between him and Kvitka. But he added, just in case: — She’ll help me get reacquainted with things here.
— Alright, — the senior nurse agreed impassively and closed the door.
It was a spontaneous decision—to take shifts with Kvitka. Probably not the best one. But Rodan doubted it would… compromise her in any way.
Ten years ago, they didn’t have to think about such things. They didn’t think about much at all—free, young, and reckless.
And really, what could go wrong over about ten shifts? Next month, there’d be a new schedule. And they were long past that—now mature, experienced, and sensible people.
He wondered if Kvitka had remarried. Maybe even a second or third time… She’d had the chance, after all. Rodan knew nothing about her. Deliberately hadn’t looked into it.
No, a third time—that wasn’t Kvitka’s style…
* * *
— So, how is he? — Marina was practically bouncing with impatience while Kvitka placed their order. — And how are you? — As soon as the waiter turned away, the questions came pouring out like the first snow that had unexpectedly fallen after lunch today. — What did you feel? How… are you two?
— There is no ‘us.’ We’re separate, — Kvitka pointed out, taking off her jacket and hanging it on the nearest rack.
— Right. Sure, kind of, — Marina agreed. — So how did you meet? What did you talk about? What does he look like? I haven’t seen him yet. Come on, spill it, or I’m going to burst from curiosity.
Kvitka looked at her friend and, for the first time all day, smiled. Plump but lively, Marina now reminded her of a child hunting for gifts hidden by her parents.
— You’ll see him soon enough. He looks… fine. — Kvitka grimaced. Marina wasn’t a stranger. She could tell her the truth. — Okay, fine. He looks great. Even better than before. Though I’m not sure if I would’ve liked him back then if he looked like he does now. That sounded confusing, didn’t it? But you get what I mean? — Her friend nodded uncertainly. Whatever. Kvitka herself hadn’t fully processed it yet. Her head was still a mess. — People’s tastes change. And people themselves change too. — Marina blinked, then nodded again. — Did I explain that clearly? Because I’m still not quite sure myself. It’s all so sudden.
— I get it, — Marina nodded energetically. — I’ve always gotten it with you two.
— That’s not what I meant!
— Well, I’m talking more about you right now, since I still need to observe Rodan. And also… Whenever you’d met him, you’d still like him.
— Maybe, — Kvitka conceded. You can’t run from the facts. She still wasn’t indifferent to Rodan. But he didn’t need to know that. The past should stay in the past. — But it doesn’t matter now.
— Why not? What did he say to you? Did you already manage to argue?
Back in the day, their clashes were the stuff of legend, no doubt about it.
— Surprisingly, no. What did he say? Well… That I’ve gotten prettier. He offered condolences about my grandmother. Asked how I’ve been. And I wished him a good first day at his new-old job. A polite conversation, nothing more to it, — Kvitka laughed, though there was no joy in it.
— Doesn’t sound like you two, — Marina agreed, and Kvitka shrugged.
— We’ve grown up. Emotions don’t knock us off our feet anymore.
— You sure? — Marina asked, reminding the waiter to bring their order.
— Absolutely. Now we’re composed people. Arguments don’t lead to anything good. And we’ve got nothing to fight over. We’ve been apart for a long time.
— Apart, yes. — Marina sighed. — But I thought maybe…
— Maybe what?
— You were such a beautiful couple, — her friend sighed, took a sip of coffee, and winced. — I’ll have to sin and add sugar. It’s too bitter for me today.
— We were, but that’s over. It happens. Our feelings couldn’t survive the distance. Rodan’s feelings, I mean. But it’s good that he suggested the divorce back then. Otherwise, I’d have lived in illusions for much longer, dreaming of a happy life together ahead of us.
— Do you think he pushed for the divorce because of her? The girl from that photo, the one he got engaged to?
Kvitka had saved that photo to her phone’s gallery, titling it at the top, “Don’t dream about him anymore.”
— Who knows? You don’t expect me to ask him about it, do you?
She wouldn’t ask him a single question about his personal life. Not one!
— So, is he married or not?
Marina was relentless. She dreamed of a reunion between Kvitka and Rodan almost more than Kvitka herself once had. That’s why she never warmed to Lyubomyr—unlike Kvitka’s parents. Kvitka had stopped fantasizing about the impossible, but Marina, it seemed, hadn’t.
— I don’t know. And I’m not going to ask. But I bet we’ll find out soon enough. The team here won’t stay in the dark about the new boss’s personal life for long.
— Probably, — Marina agreed, popping a pastry into her mouth and glancing out the window. — New Year’s coming up soon.
— It’s only November, — Kvitka reminded her, turning her head as well. Outside, it had grown dark, but in the glow of the streetlights, tiny snowflakes shimmered. They’d melt, of course, but they were already a reminder of the coming winter.
— I want the holidays. Colorful decorations. Songs. Tangerines… — Marina sighed sadly. — Why is life so… dull? I just want to be happy for someone…
— Did you have a fight with Mykola? — Kvitka asked, concerned.
Her friend hadn’t had much luck in her personal life since university. Back then, the guys usually went for slim, flashy girls and barely noticed chubby Marina. Later, finding someone suitable became even harder. Shy by nature, Marina couldn’t bring herself to go on the blind dates her aunts and even cousins tried to set up for her.
But one day, the deputy chief medical officer asked her out, and Marina agreed, surprising even Kvitka. Because Mykola Petrovych wasn’t just eleven years older and perpetually grumpy—he was also married. For now. He was in the middle of a divorce.
— No, — Marina shook her head. — There wasn’t even a reason to. Besides, we see each other so little that we don’t waste time on arguments. Maybe I shouldn’t have insisted on just two dates a week. Maybe I should’ve moved in with him like he asked. But you remember how worried I was about messing up the divorce process. I didn’t want his lawyer wife to have another card to play. She’s obsessed with stripping him down to nothing, even though she earns several times more than he does. In the end, she’s the one who found someone else. And Mykola doesn’t want to give up his parents’ apartment. He inherited it, after all. I’d fight for that too. As for my mood… You know I always get the blues in November and December.
Kvitka knew the whole story of this relationship well, since Marina never hid anything from her. When would things finally work out for her friend? The divorce had been dragging on for months. What if the couple had kids? Maybe Mykola’s wife didn’t actually want the divorce that badly. Then why start it in the first place?
Kvitka gently touched her friend’s hand.
— Marina, we can hang out more often. Come over to my place. We’ll have a girls’ night. Though tomorrow I’ve got a night shift…
— And the day after, Mykola’s coming over. And anyway… Why are we suddenly talking about me? Let’s get back to you.
— Honestly, I’ve already told you everything. Rodan and I spoke alone for maybe fifteen minutes at most. Then we saw each other a few times in the department, and that’s it. But something did surprise me.
Kvitka had noticed it when she mentally replayed their brief conversation.
— What was it? — Marina leaned toward her again.
— Rodan somehow thought I’d left town.
— That’s a weird thing to assume.
— Yeah, I think so too.