His eyes were clouded with a pale haze that made them look like they belonged to someone much older. Doctors had used complex terms Ilia never understood, but he understood the meaning.
Broken.
Katia didn’t flinch.
She leaned closer, studying the haze like she was looking at a window with something stuck to the glass.
“Trust me,” she whispered.
Ilia didn’t know why he did it.
But he nodded.
Katia lifted her hand slowly.
Her fingers barely touched the edge of his right eye—not poking, not pressing, just brushing like she was trying to lift something delicate.
Ilia braced for pain.
None came.
Instead, he felt something strange—like a tiny tug, deep in the place where darkness lived.
Katia’s brow furrowed. She concentrated.
And then—so carefully it looked unreal—she pinched something invisible between her fingertips and began to pull.
A thin, almost transparent film emerged, so fine it reminded Ilia of spider silk.
But when it caught the sunlight, it flashed with faint rainbow colors, like oil on water.
Ilia’s entire body jolted.
“What—what is that?” he gasped.
Katia’s voice was barely audible.
“It’s what wasn’t yours,” she whispered. “It’s what was covering you.”
She repeated the same motion on his other eye.
Another film came free—shivering in the air like something alive.
Katia held both pieces on her palm. They glimmered like fragile wings.
Ilia squeezed his eyes shut.
A burst of light surged behind his eyelids—so bright it made him sway.
For one terrifying second he thought he might pass out.
Then the light softened.
Shapes appeared.
Not clear—blurred, shaking, imperfect—but there.
A small face formed in front of him.
Messy black hair.
Wide, serious eyes.
A nervous smile.
Ilia’s voice broke.
“I… I see.”
Katia blinked, stunned, like she hadn’t allowed herself to believe it would work until now.
“I see you,” Ilia whispered. “Katia… I see you.”
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”
Alexei’s voice sliced through the plaza.
People turned.
The air shifted.
Alexei strode toward the bench in long steps, face pale, fists clenched. He grabbed Ilia by the shoulders and pulled him close like someone was trying to steal his child.
Ilia clung to his father’s jacket, breathless.
“Dad—wait—listen!”
Alexei’s glare locked onto Katia.
“Who are you?” he demanded. “What did you do to my son?”
Katia stood slowly.
Her hands were still open, the translucent films trembling on her skin.
“I helped him,” she said simply.
Ilia’s voice rose, urgent.
“Dad, I can see! It’s blurry but it’s real—I can see light and shapes—your face—”
The plaza went quiet.
Not a polite quiet.
A stunned quiet.
A vendor stopped mid-sentence. A woman covered her mouth. A man leaned forward like he needed to check if he was dreaming.
Alexei stared at Ilia’s eyes.
The haze… looked thinner.
Ilia’s pupils reacted to the brightness.
His son’s eyes did something they hadn’t done in years.
They responded.
Alexei’s mouth opened slightly, and a sound slipped out—small, broken.
“That’s… impossible.”
For a heartbeat, gratitude tried to rise in him.
Then fear crushed it.
Fear of what he couldn’t explain.
Fear of being tricked.
Fear of losing the one thing he had left.
“We’re going to the hospital,” Alexei snapped, voice shaking with control. “Now.”
“Dad, Katia—”
“Put your glasses on.”
Alexei took Ilia’s hand and started pulling him away.
Katia stepped forward, palm still lifted.
“Wait—take this,” she pleaded quietly. “Please. This is what I removed.”
Alexei didn’t turn back.
He didn’t look at her.
He didn’t say thank you.
