The marble floor gleamed, reflecting the light of the chandeliers. Festive music was playing, and many people had gathered – it was probably an opening ceremony.
– Oksana?
He froze when he heard a familiar voice behind him. A voice he hadn’t heard in five years, but one he would have recognized out of a thousand. He slowly turned around.
– Yuri.
Almost nothing had changed. The same attentive gray eyes, the same slight graying at the temples. Only the wrinkles around the eyes had deepened.
“I didn’t expect to see you here,” he looked at her as if he were seeing a ghost. “You… are you back?”
“He’s on his way,” Oksana felt Sofia sit up. “Not for long.”
Yuri looked at the little girl, and Oksana saw how her face changed. How her pupils dilated. Sofia was his perfect copy – the same gray eyes, the same curve of her mouth, even the dimple on her cheek – exactly like hers.
“And he…”
“My daughter,” Oksana answered quickly. “Sofia.”
A heavy, echoing silence settled between them.
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