The exchange feels oddly structured, like a line of questioning rather than curiosity. His tone stays conversational, but the focus is narrow, steering instead of wandering. I notice Lila hasn’t jumped in the way she usually does. She hasn’t softened the edges or redirected the moment. She’s quiet beside him, watching instead of participating. It leaves me with the uncomfortable sense ofbeing evaluated, each answer filed away rather than acknowledged. Not a red flag, just enough dissonance to make my shoulders draw back a fraction.
Ivan circles the rim of his glass with one finger, not looking at me as he speaks. “Do you ever have patients who won't talk to the police? Even when they should?”
There it is. The real interest. The reason this lunch suddenly feels less like meeting a boyfriend and more like an interrogation wrapped in pleasant conversation.
“Occasionally,” I admit. “But patient confidentiality is important.”
“Of course, of course.” Ivan smiles, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. “I'm just curious about your work. Lila speaks so highly of you.”
“She’s being generous,” I say. “I think just as highly of Lila’s work. She’s one of the best physicians I know.”
The rest of lunch passes in surface conversation, but I can't shake the feeling that Ivan is cataloging every word and reaction. When Lila excuses herself to use the restroom, he turns to me with an expression that's lost some of its warmth.
“You're very careful with your words,” he notes.
“I'm a doctor. Accuracy matters.”
“Indeed.” He studies me for a long time. “Lila is lucky to have a friend like you. So loyal.”
It sounds like a compliment, but it feels like a warning.
When Lila returns, I make excuses about needing to get back to the hospital. Leo appears at my elbow before I even reach the door, and I'm grateful for his silent, imposing presence.
In the car, I stare out the window, trying to process what just happened.
“You okay, Doc?” Leo asks.
“Fine.” Then, because the lie feels too obvious, I add, “That was weird, right? He was weird?”
“Did the guy ask a lot of questions?”
“Yes. About the accident and my patients.” I turn to look at Leo.
“I think you should tell Kiren about him.”
I know he's right. But the idea of dragging Lila into this makes my stomach turn. She has no idea what’s been going on, and she seems so happy with Ivan.
Back at the apartment, I pace the living room with my phone in hand. I should call Kiren. I should tell him about Ivan and the questions that felt too specific. Instead, I try to convince myself I'm reading too much into it. That Ivan is just curious, and Lila really did find someone special. It’s just my paranoia making me see threats where there are none.
The elevator dings, and Kiren steps out, earlier than usual. One look at my face and his expression hardens.
“What happened?”
So much for convincing myself it's nothing.
I tell him about lunch, about Ivan, and the questions that felt wrong. Kiren listens without interrupting, his stillness more unnerving than any outward reaction.
When I finish, he remains quiet.
“Lila,” he finally remarks. “She's been seeing this man for a month?”
“That's what she told me.”
His eyes meet mine. “A month. Right around the time of Alexei’s murder.”
My breath hitches. “No. No, there's no way. Lila wouldn't…she doesn't know anything about what happened.”
“You don't think it's suspicious that she suddenly has a new boyfriend who's very interested in your patients and the accident?”
