A Candy for the Stern Boss. You Can't Fool Fate

“Pa-pa,” I hear again—and this time someone touches my leg. I pull the phone away from my ear. My gaze drops, meeting sad blue eyes—bright and pure, like a cloudless summer sky. I tumble into them, and for a second I fall out of reality. A tiny doll tugs me by the pant leg. Very small. Thin fingers clamp the fabric, and the big doll-like eyes with fluffy light-brown lashes start blinking faster. The little one is confused and somehow sad.

“Not pa-pa,” the little one says, disappointedly, tugging the handle. She turns around and, lowering her head, looks down at her own feet. Slipping down the corridor like a ghost, she moves farther away from me. But even at a distance I can hear the sad, drawn-out voice:

“Mom-a-a.”

And that жалiбний голос викликає в мені дивовижну бурю емоцій. Worry, mixed with a crushing feeling that I can’t make sense of. I put the receiver back to my ear. And I say clearly:

“I’ll call you back.”