And I mean it, with all my heart. I just don’t know what to do with the part that didn’t want him to leave, either. I'm almost mad at myself, unable to stop how I feel even when I push against it. But the more distance between us, the easier it is to breathe, to focus on Dominik and Zosia, and that’s what I do.
The rest of the day devours me. I don’t even take lunch. I send the techs, stay in the rooms myself, dilations and eye pressures, hustling through each wave of patients. Later that night, when I’m finally heading to bed, still restless, still a bit disappointed he hasn’t messaged, still mad at myself for evenwantinghim to, I toss my phone onto the nightstand. Then it happens. The buzz.
Unknown Number.
I swipe it open, a voice note. Somewhere in a dark corner of my brain, a part that thought maybe it was all one-sided, that it was just nervous energy, considered the idea he wouldn't send anything again. That our goodbye today was final, that it was for the best. That his silence would be all the answer I needed, and I could put these childish feelings away. But my heart knew better, and when I press play, it stops altogether.
His voice is soft, sleepy. “Goodnight, Kasia.”
He says it right this time. Careful, proud, like pronouncing my name properly is some achievement greater than a stadium of screaming fans. I clutch the phone to my ear and close my eyes, every nerve alight. He doesn’t say anything else. Just my name but it feels like an essay, like a secret. I bury my face into my pillow, heat crawling up my neck.
What are you doing, Rafe?
The more I replay it, the less it even sounds like words. Just syllables, breath, resonance in my chest. My own name untethered frommeaning until it’s nothing but a sound loop, a pulse that refuses to stop. I don’t know if I’m flattered, terrified, or simply losing my grip.
Chapter 18
Forgive Me, Father
By the time Friday creeps close, I’ve all but shoved the voice note out of my head. He hasn’t sent anything else and I never replied, forced myself into silence.It was nothing.A slip of curiosity, a ridiculous indulgence I should never have allowed. Pragmatism is the Polish way, and nothing about cooing messages back and forth with a man who surely has a different groupie in his bed at every tour stop, is pragmatic.
Dominik is. Dominik, who already makes sense to everyone around me, my parents, Piotr and Aga, even little Zosia. Dominik, whose family has known mine for years, who shares my roots, my heritage, who slips into Polish with me like it’s as natural as breathing. Dominik, who looks at me like I’m a woman he wants to build a life with. That’s where my future lies.
So I focus on him and our date. I remember how he’d said it over the phone, no room to argue.Friday, date night. I’ll drop Zosia with Piotr and Aga for family dinner. No interruptions, no excuses.I’d agreed at the time and now I’m glad, it gives me the distraction I need. I throw myself into date preening like I haven’t done since my early twenties, tearing through my closet, cursing every hanger, discarding dresses that suddenly feel too juvenile or too clinical. I want something that says steady, sensual, grown. A woman, not a girl.Not to seduce him, not even really for him but to prove to myself I can still be wanted this way.
The mirror becomes my battleground. Hair smoothed, then tousled again until it looks effortless. Lipstick too intense, wiped off, then reapplied in a softer shade. By the time I step into my parents’ house, I feel like I’ve been through a war with my own closet. The living room goes still for a beat, then erupts all at once. Mama clasps her hands under her chin.
“Boze swiety(Holy God), look at our Kasia. I knew I gave birth to a beauty queen.”
Tata shakes his head in mock disbelief. “How did we make such perfection, Mama?”
Aga, bouncing Kacper, even offers a warm word. “Dominik won’t believe he’s so lucky! He'll probably pass out the second he sees you.”
Even Natalia looks up from her phone, blinking wide-eyed. “You look…hot.” She stands, pulls me in, and to my utter shock lifts her phone. “Selfie.”
I laugh, leaning in. If Natalia wants a photo with you, it’s the highest honor.
When she’s satisfied, Natalia quips, “See? You could look like thisall the timeif you put in a little more effort.”
I scoff. “Silly me. I was just busy being a doctor.”
“Yes, Kasia,” Piotr chimes in with a grin. “You never learned how to worksmarter, notharder.”
The whole room breaks into laughter. I roll my eyes, cheeks burning, but the warmth of it swells in me. Then the door opens.
Zosia barrels in first, braids bouncing, eyes huge. She stops dead when she sees me. “Wow… Auntie Kasia. You’re so beautiful.”
My chest squeezes. “Dziekuje, kochanie,(Thank you, sweetheart)” I say softly, crouching to kiss her forehead.
Then Dominik steps in behind her. He’s dressed well, a fitted navy blazer over an open-collared white shirt, sleeves rolled to his forearms,dark trousers that fit just right. I catch the subtle hint of cologne clinging to his skin, warm with a trace of something spiced like cinnamon. Something strong that matches him. When he leans in to greet me, cheek to cheek, the scent is enough to make me sway.
“Dobry wieczór,(Good evening)” he murmurs, but the words falter, his breath catching. His eyes sweep over me once, twice, as though he can’t quite believe it. “You—you look—” He swallows. “Przepiekny. (Gorgeous)”
Heat blooms in my cheeks, and before I can answer, Piotr appears, slinging an arm around Dominik’s shoulders. He slaps his back, then grips the back of his neck, pulling him in close.
“She’s still my sister,” Piotr says, voice playful but firm. “If you knock her up, the wedding moves up. Yes?”
Dominik bursts into laughter, flustered, butclearlygame, undeterred. “Understood.”
