10
Lev
Polina’s hospital has a strict visitor policy, and I’ve never followed it.
We argued last night, and she hung up on me. She’s never done that before.
On the surface, it was about my schedule. She’s frustrated with the trips that keep getting longer, the meetings I can’t explain, and the calls I take in the other room.
She asked straight questions, and I gave careful non-answers. She said she was tired of asking things I wasn’t going to answer.
At least, that’s what it looked like from the outside. It was really about the thing we still haven’t said out loud: we both know exactly what our names mean.
We’ve been acting like a name is just a name—like it doesn’t come with blood, history, and enemies. And it’s getting harder to maintain.
She’s not angry about my schedule; she’s angry because she knows I’m keeping something from her, and she’s right.
So, I show up at Moscow General at 7:45 a.m., with two coffees and no clear explanation for why I can’t just let it sit.
The woman at the front desk recognizes me from the number of times Polina and I have had lunch since we’ve started dating and I sign in under Luka Sorkin—again.
A nurse near the surgical floor eyes my visitor sticker and says, “I can page Dr. Kozlov, but you’ll need to wait.” Two minutes later, Polina is the one opening the side corridor door.
When she sees me, the look on her face is the best and worst thing I’ve seen all week. Fury first. Then something underneath it that she covers, but not fast enough.
I follow her in without asking.
“You cannot be here,” she says.
“And yet...” I hold out the coffee.
She doesn’t take it. “I’m serious, Lev. My colleagues will start talking.”
“Then we need to go somewhere else.” I tip my head toward the hallway. “Now.”
“We’re not done talking about last night.”
“That’s what I’m here to do. Somewhere without worrying about being interrupted.”
She takes the coffee and walks out past me, which I take as agreement. She stops a passing nurse in the corridor.
“Who’s got exam four today?”
The nurse checks her tablet. “Nobody. Dr. Zhukov’s still on leave, and they haven’t reassigned his rooms yet.”
“Good. I need it for a consult. Can you make sure we’re not disturbed?”
“Of course, Dr. Kozlov.”
The nurse moves on without a second glance. Polina leads me down the corridor, past the supply rooms and the staff bathroom, and then ducks into an exam room. I follow her in and turn the lock behind me.
She turns on me the second I do. “This is insane. You know that?”
“You hung up on me.”
“You were being evasive.”
“The trips are getting longer because the situation is moving faster than I planned. I can’t give you more than that right now. Can’t and won’t. Both.” I watch her face tighten, and I take a step toward her. “I’m sorry, but I think we both know why I can’t.”
