37. -36-
Dorian
But then
I’ll go home…
The words stabbed like a knife. They didn't belong in a child's mouth. No kid should ever be afraid to go home. It was so fucking wrong that I called Malin immediately, telling him to run a background check on Aryna's family.
He had enough on his plate right now, yet it was a simple task. It would take him five minutes, tops, to give me a starting point for my own investigation. I also texted Zyon to ask him if Zara could keep Aryna company. No other kid was around to help me keep her occupied.
While I stitched and bandaged Aryna’s forearm, she watched me as if I were some kind of hero.
I explained every step of the procedure, warning her that another intervention on the wound could leave a nasty scar.
She listened to my every word, asking questions typical of a curious six-year-old who didn’t feel pain thanks to meds but found it fascinating to see blood dripping from the wound.
“And we’re done,” I announced proudly, securing the bandage.
“Thank you.” She smiled, her grin growing wider when I drew a flower on it.
“Just don’t destroy it, okay?” I removed my gloves and threw them in the bin. “I have other patients who need stitches, too.”
Her mouth formed an adorable pout, and she blinked in surprise.
“More kids like me?”
“Adults who stick their fingers where they shouldn’t.” I shrugged, sitting on the chair beside her bed. “So, do we have a deal? You leave the bandages untouched, and I’ll come to read you a story.”
Aryna nodded eagerly, clutching my hand tightly as if afraid I would let go. But I wouldn’t. I didn’t let go of people I cared about.
Listening to her speak about some princess, my heart swelled with happiness at the change in her in just over half an hour. She was a completely different girl from the one I found under the table.
My phone buzzing interrupted our conversation about the story she wanted me to read, and I briefly checked the message. It was Zyon, sending me a curt “okay” to my previous text.
“I believe you’ll have a visitor later,” I said, adjusting the blanket to cover Aryna’s feet. “My brother has a daughter at your age, and she wants to stop by to play.”
“Really?” Aryna beeped with incredulity, like what I said was completely impossible.
“Really,” I confirmed. “You need to rest to be ready later.”
The meds I gave her would put her to sleep, and her eyes had already closed a few times, but she forcefully kept them open.
“Will she… like me?” she whispered, pulling the blanket under her chin.
“Why wouldn’t she?”
“Kids…” She paused as if ashamed, avoiding eye contact. “Kids don’t like to play with me.”
That was another slash on my already wounded heart.
“Don’t worry, angel.” I moved her hair away from her forehead, smiling softly. “Zara isn’t like other kids.”
She truly wasn’t, and it seemed to calm Aryna’s worries. A few moments later, she fell asleep, and I quietly left her room.
Lost in my own thoughts, I walked through the hall to the elevator. I got in and pushed the button to the ground floor, almost having a heart attack when Malin spoke.
“Hey,” he grumbled, raising a brow at my surprised reaction. I literally jumped back because I’d been so absorbed in my own mind that I assumed he was my reflection in a mirror.
“What the fuck,” I mumbled, bending down to catch my breath. Seriously, what the hell was wrong with me?
“Are you okay?” He crouched before me, scanning me like I was an intriguing puzzle.
“My brain didn’t acknowledge you,” I said, straightening to my full height. My back pressed into the metal elevator door, my chest heaving.
“I’m so sorry, sunshine.” Malin grinned, mirroring my face. His eyes lit up, sparkling with excitement, which was creepy as hell considering I knew who was hidden behind the mask. “You should enjoy reality instead of hiding in your dark mind.”
The fucker was perfect at imitating me, and of course he picked my favorite line to flip the roles on me. It was the first time our resemblance had ever caught me completely off guard.
Shit! Today was a day of “first times” for me.
“Okay, seriously.” He bumped my shoulder on the way out of the elevator. “Are you okay? You look like crap.”
“Thanks, love.” I frowned, glaring at him. He wanted to play this game? Fine. I could imitate him in my sleep. “What do you need?”
A barely visible smirk lifted one corner of his mouth, and he threw the mask away.
“The report you asked for.” He opened his large palm and showed me the USB key. “Why are those people of interest to you?”
The reply died on my tongue. Out of nowhere, a nurse appeared, her expression startled and every move urgent.
“Doctor Zhumagulov,” she exhaled, relief evident in her voice. “There was a huge crash. You’re needed at the OR.”
“We’ll talk later,” I said over my shoulder to Malin, and for the following six hours, I didn’t exist outside the operating room.
Three critical patients arrived. I took one leg to save a life and fought like hell to keep another attached. And I fucking won. The other team managed to pull a thirteen-year-old girl back from the edge. One woman didn’t make it.
Two lives against one.
It was a good outcome. Statistically, it was a win. But as I stared at my reflection, exhaustion carving lines into my face, that one loss clung to me like a stain I couldn’t wash off.
“You were freaking amazing, Doc,” a new resident, Amanda, exclaimed, joining me at the sink. “You were everywhere.”
“Not at the woman who died,” I ground out, turning off the faucet. “If we’d had another surgeon, she might have had a chance.”
“Every hospital is understaffed.” Amanda cast me a sympathetic look, the thrill in her voice fading.
“Not my hospital.”
I left her standing there, mouth slightly open, eyes wide. Failure was unacceptable in my line of work. It cost lives, just as it did today. It couldn’t happen again, not under my roof.
Ignoring the praise coming from all sides, I headed straight to my office. I needed time alone to figure out where I could’ve been faster and who I could’ve stabilized sooner so I could move on to the next patient.
“You look even worse than before.”
“Jesus fuck!” I yelled, staring at Malin sprawled in the chair in the waiting room. Dressed in all black, with a motorcycle helmet placed on his thigh and a deadly expression, he looked like a loaded gun forgotten on a nursery shelf.
“Today is not your day, Dorian.” He shook his head, standing up. His every move was menacing, and the glances thrown his way from the people walking around him only confirmed that I wasn’t imagining it. He was more lethal than usual.
“Your looks haven’t improved, either, sunshine,” I said, trying to read his body language. But all I saw was an evident threat, like he had just learned something that made him decide violence was the only acceptable solution.
“Yeah.” He cast me a serious look. “We need to talk.”
“Okay.” I nodded, motioning for him to follow me into the empty patient room, when an excited, cheerful voice that I loved to hear the most in the whole world cut through the gloomy atmosphere.
“Uncle Dory!”
Zara ran to me with a broad smile splitting her adorable face, her long, curly, auburn hair flying around and falling onto her yellow dress.
“Princess.” I spread my arms wide, and she jumped right into them.
You would think we hadn’t seen each other for months, when it had been only a few days.
She wrapped around my torso and neck like a little monkey, and I spun us a few times, earning hysterical laughter from her.
An older couple smiled at us, and some patients clapped.
Her entrance truly enlightened the space.
“You promised to give me a piano lesson,” Zara exclaimed, moving her hair away from her eyes. Her headband fell on the floor, releasing a curtain of misbehaving strands.
“I will,” I stated sincerely. “The new piano is on its way.”
Her eyes lit up with excitement. She’d been bugging me about it for months, basically since she spent a weekend with me during the snowstorm. Zyon and Valeria were on their honeymoon, and Malin went to handle an emergency, so I was the babysitter.
“I can’t wait,” Zara beeped, glowing like the brightest star. I kissed her cheek, trying to enjoy her company a little more because it eased the ache in my chest, but her mother’s voice cut me short.
“Zara!” Valeria boomed with a stern expression and hands planted on her hips.
She looked nothing like the woman from yesterday.
Color had returned to her cheeks, her posture straight and her shoulders squared in quiet confidence.
The white dress hugged her figure perfectly, softening the sharpness in her expression just enough to make the contrast striking.
Cherry-red hair fell neatly around her shoulders, framing a face that no longer carried exhaustion.
She looked stunning, just as I was used to, but for the first time since I met her, my heart didn’t miss a beat in her presence.
The realization struck me unprepared. Whatever I'd felt for my brother’s wife—platonic or not—was finally cured.
Oh, fuck! This truly was a huge achievement, considering I had planned to use my charm on Valeria after our first meeting if my brother didn’t act on his stalkerish impulses.
“What did I tell you about running away?” Valeria asked in a gentler tone, shaking her head.
“Daddy said this place is safe.” Zara pouted as I put her down. “I can run wherever I want when the place is safe.”
A grin tugged at my lips at her response, but Valeria’s look shut me up instantly. I crouched before Zara, gently taking her hand.
“I’m sure Dad didn’t want you to run away from your mom, princess,” I preached, earning a scoff from her. “And you also can’t run through the hospital halls. It’s not a playground. There are sick people here who need rest.”
“Fiiiine,” she whined, turning to Valeria. “Sorry, Mom. I’ll stay with Aryna.”
She was gone before any of us could object to her running again, sticking her tongue out at me while disappearing around the corner. I laughed, straightening to my full height, yet Valeria’s stern expression wiped the grin from my face.
“Did you tell him?” she asked Malin, who firmly shook his head.
“Tell me what?” I glanced between two frowning faces, but it was Valeria who somehow gave me the creeps. Malin was a grump who had scowling as a default setting.
“Zara and Aryna played a game,” Malin said, not surprising me at all that he spent hours with them. He loved our niece more than anyone in the world and used every opportunity to be with her. “Your little patient revealed that her fall wasn’t accidental.”
“What?” I stared at them, dumbstruck. “She almost died. Who would do that?”
“Well,” Valeria sighed, briefly checking our surroundings. “It looks as if her fifteen-year-old sister pushed her.”
“Fuck,” I exhaled, running a hand through my hair. Still, I knew my brother too well to understand it wasn’t all. “What else?”
“We believe it was a protective act,” Valeria replied instead of him. “Aryna said that her older sister tried to stop him from hurting her.”
“Him?” I echoed, confusion filling my chest.
“Him.” Malin opened his palm, revealing a white USB key, and my stomach dropped.
“Her foster father?” I mumbled, but all I got was a shrug.
“I need your office and half an hour to know more,” he replied in a sinister voice. Someone touched a kid. That someone would suffer—that one was for sure.
“Anything,” I agreed, and Valeria cast me a grateful glance.
“Do something about it,” she whispered, grasping our hands. Malin flinched at the contact, but I squeezed her delicate palm supportively.
“We’ll take care of it.”