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«We have been friends for almost twenty years. My mother and I lived in his parents’ house in America when I was three.»

«And the father?» Sung Joon continued his interrogation, lying with his eyes closed.

«I don’t remember him. And I know absolutely nothing about him,» I replied, looking at my fingernails, which were about to be repainted and shaped. Due to work, I abandoned myself a little and did not care about my appearance.

«There was no desire to find him?» Sung Joon asked with sincere interest.

«There was a desire. And there is. But I can’t do it. My mother told me as a child that this topic is forbidden. There are no photographs or records about him. I don’t even know his name. Only my Russian name is Alina,» I shared my thoughts with him, and when I came to my senses, I noticed that Sung Joon was looking at me sympathetically. «I’ll call Jin-young. I’ll ask him to come back,» I said to hide my awkwardness, and then got to my feet and went to the table that was located next to Sung Joon to take my work phone from it. But Sung Joon gently grabbed my hand halfway to the smartphone.

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