Do not come, love, you would only be sorrowful,And no matter how I long for you, I freeze.What youth once hid in a dark abysspulls me back with deceptive force,Yet should I watch it with mockery?Do not come, love, you would only be sorrowful.— Blaže Koneski
"Do you have the list, the ID cards, and the medical booklets?"
The director stood beside her, checking the documents for what felt like the hundredth time, giving instructions along the way. Ida nodded calmly, arranging the papers according to the list of applicants.
She was confident in what she was doing—unlike the director, whose anxiety spread through the room, creating unnecessary tension in a situation everyone knew was under control.
The wide, white skirt with large black flowers trembled slightly, betraying her unease. Her long, restless hands kept shuffling the papers, pulling them closer, though from her gaze it was clear she hadn't actually read a single line.
She doesn't even know what she's looking for, Ida thought, letting her continue. She knew it wouldn't last long—soon enough, she would tire and retreat to her office.
The room was enormous. Once a living room, they repurposed it into an office space. A desk stood against each wall, with one employee at each. They all sat with their backs to one another, absorbed in their own tasks dictated by the new workday.
When Ida first stepped into this place, the arrangement puzzled her. Months later, she understood the quiet drama unfolding within it.
Poor organization, impatience, and the director's inability to communicate tasks clearly, often giving instructions she barely understood herself, created a constant undercurrent of tension that was unbearable.
Her freshly blow-dried hair shook sharply as she suddenly tossed the documents aside.
"Make sure everything goes well. The foreigners require precise data. Otherwise, we won't get paid."
At last, everyone heard the real reason behind her concern.
"Everything will go perfectly, Director. Don't worry," Ida replied calmly, watching her slowly leave the room.
She quickly organized her folders, placed them in her bag, and stepped outside.
At the meeting point, the group was already waiting for her. For most people, medical checkups were routine—something done every two years with little thought.
But for these individuals, who were being sent in an organized and purposeful way for the first time, it was a source of real stress.
They headed toward the city center together.
The group was far from simple. These were young people with dysfunctional behavior. Some were Roma who had just entered adulthood, one had undergone alcoholism treatment, and two were homeless.
Ida knew everything about them—their family relationships, their struggles for survival, even their birth dates. After all, she was the one who organized their birthday surprises back at the office.
The reintegration and resocialization process she had been working on with this group for months was moving slowly—too slowly. It felt as if the intervention had already come too late, given the conditions they were living in.
Many were already family men with several children. Some were illiterate. Others resisted even the simplest guidance—whether for employment or basic social behavior.
An enormous challenge stood before her.
But she had no intention of giving up.
"Hello, Aunt Ida!" they greeted her cheerfully.
She smiled, already used to their tone.
To create order, she questioned if they held the specific free bus tickets she had made available. After that, they boarded the bus to the clinic.
"I'm scared," Erdan said.
"I'm going to faint," added Tunan.
"One more cigarette, Aunt Ida, just to calm my nerves," Armando pleaded.
"Don't worry," she reassured them. "The best doctors and lab technicians are waiting for you. You won't feel a thing. In this clinic, they give the least painful injections. And didn't you agree to this yourselves? What is this now—am I leading crybabies or brave men? Besides, this is a routine check. Everyone does it once every two years."
She tried to calm and encourage them.
This was their first experience of this kind. They carried countless fears and prejudices, along with careless behaviors that, from a professional standpoint, bordered on madness.
They entered a room that smelled strongly of disinfectant.
She saw their discomfort—their fear—but remained determined to support them.
A smiling gentleman greeted them warmly and directed them to the nurse to register.
"Alexander," he introduced himself with a broad smile, stepping toward her and greeting her warmly.
"Ida," she replied briefly, intrigued, watching as he repeated the same warmth with every member of the group.
After finishing the round, he began again—moving from one person to another, speaking kindly, answering questions effortlessly. With his calmness and confidence, he created a friendly atmosphere in no time.
He explained the procedure and assured them he would personally look after their group, making sure they felt safe and supported at every step.
He even joked.
And what surprised her most was how easily he did it—how naturally his humor reached everyone.
She followed every exchange closely, noticing how clearly and precisely he answered their concerns.
She found his approach fascinating—his adaptability, his creativity in handling the situation.
Not everyone could command such an audience while creating a space that felt safe for all.
She began analyzing him more carefully.
Light curls fell over his shoulders—an unusual hairstyle for a man in his late forties, she thought.
His blue eyes sparkled with every new interaction.
A firm, muscular body was visible beneath the blue medical uniform.
Not only pleasant but attractive. A complete package.
The thought appeared suddenly, and her cheeks flushed.
She felt embarrassed by her own reaction.
Even surprised.
It had been a long time since she had felt such a thing—being drawn to a man at first sight.
She had believed that phase of her life was long behind her.
His voice startled her behind her—soft, caring.
"Please, sit down and rest a bit. Would you like coffee? Or maybe juice?"
"Maybe later," she replied. "I shouldn't leave them alone."
She turned toward him with a wide smile—and in that very moment she felt herself sinking into the deep blue of his eyes, which shimmered almost shamelessly.
"Believe me, this will take a few hours. The team is closely monitoring them. Your presence here isn't that necessary."
"In that case… one coffee. Light. With one sugar."
"It'll be here right away."
He didn't hide his small sense of triumph—raising his thumb briefly before disappearing into another room.
He returned ten minutes later and motioned for her to follow him.
Almost dazed, without thinking, she obeyed.
They entered another office on the same floor. He offered her a seat and placed the warm drink in front of her.
He watched her intently, a faint smile playing on his lips—as if he knew exactly what effect he had on her.
She was unprepared, inexperienced in such a situation, and felt as though all her defenses had vanished along the way.
She sat there, confused, unsure what to do with her hands, nervously intertwining her fingers.
Unconsciously, she began biting her lower lip.
He quickly shifted to a professional tone, asking about her work and showing genuine interest in everything she did.
"This will take some time," he said. "Are you required to stay until the end?"
"Yes. I need to follow everything and prepare a report for the director."
"In that case, inform your husband to pick you up later."
"I don't have a husband," she said unexpectedly.
The words slipped out before she could stop them.
He didn't react.
Instead, he continued speaking—about his work, about how they performed such operations, about unique experiences.
Normally, such topics might not have interested her.
But now—she absorbed every word.
He used many Serbian expressions; his accent revealed it. When she asked, it confirmed her suspicion—born and raised in Skopje, but from a mixed background, like many after the war.
She especially liked the way he pronounced the letter "L."
Soft. Airy. Likable.
A few times, she stepped out to see to her group.
Each time, reassured that everything was going smoothly, she returned to him.
When everything was finally over, a nurse entered to inform them.
They stood up quickly—only to collide at the door.
She felt the firmness of his body against hers.
Like struck by lightning, she instinctively stepped back—only to trip over a poorly placed cable.
She staggered.
He reacted instantly, pulling her into his arms, clenching her.
They remained like that—longer than necessary.
Despite her high heels, she had to tilt her head upward to thank him.
And in that moment, she noticed the spark in his eyes.
And suddenly—
She understood.
She had already been apprehended.
A profound change occurred within her after years of being alone.