“Nice photo,” I don’t manage to put my phone away—“you have a boy?” I look into eyes I know painfully well. Now they’re completely чужі. “Yes. Son,” the voice doesn’t obey me. “Very handsome. Probably all like you.” And I stay silent, clenching my fists. No! He isn’t like me. He’s all like his father. My son—exactly like Kirill Orlov. Just like… you.”