Every time, the ending was the same.
Incurable.
Permanent.
Accept it.
Ilia’s voice lowered like he didn’t want to wake the pain.
“My dad took me to the best doctors,” he said. “They said there’s nothing to do. So how could you—”
“I’m not a doctor,” Katia answered calmly.
Ilia swallowed. “Then what are you?”
Katia glanced down at her hands, then back up at him.
“I’m just… someone who was told to be here,” she said.
Ilia’s shoulders tightened.
“By who?”
Katia didn’t answer directly.
“I don’t call it anything,” she whispered. “But it feels like… today is the day I’m allowed to give something back to you.”
Ilia’s fingers curled around the edge of the bench.
He wanted to believe her.
That was the scary part.
Hope could feel like stepping toward a cliff.
“And if you’re wrong?” he asked.
Katia’s voice softened. “And if I’m not?”
Ilia’s throat moved. He took a careful breath.
“Then why are you here?” he whispered.
Katia looked straight at him.
“Because I’ve been waiting,” she said. “For you.”
Across the plaza, a tall man in a dark suit watched the bench with a deepening frown.
His posture screamed control. His face looked like it had learned how not to show fear.
His name was Alexei Sokolov—a millionaire with a reputation for never losing.
He didn’t “drive.” He was driven.
He didn’t “wait.” People waited on him.
He didn’t accept “no” from anyone… except life.
Life had taken his wife.
And then it had taken his son’s sight.
Alexei had tried to buy the impossible back.
When money didn’t work, he tried power.
When power didn’t work, he tried denial.
But every time he saw Ilia in those dark glasses, every time he watched his son tilt his head toward voices like the world had turned into sound only—
Alexei felt the kind of helplessness that made rich men furious.
He always stayed nearby when Ilia asked to come to the plaza.
Not because he trusted the city.
Because he didn’t trust anything anymore.
And now there was a barefoot girl sitting beside his son.
Talking.
Too close.
Alexei took a step forward… then stopped.
Because Ilia was smiling.
And Alexei hadn’t seen that smile in a long time.
On the bench, Katia lowered her voice.
“Can I touch your eyes?” she asked.
Ilia’s breath caught.
“What?”
“I want you to take off your glasses,” she said. “I want to see.”
Ilia froze.
People always wanted to see him.
Not the way Katia meant—just the way people looked at him like he was a tragedy in a suit.
But Katia’s tone wasn’t pity.
It was… focused.
Almost gentle.
Ilia’s hands trembled as he removed the glasses and rested them on his lap.
