Page 1 of Forced to Marry the Russian Pakhan
Chapter 1 - Yulia
It’s been twenty-four hours into my shift, and I’m barely standing. My feet feel like they’ve been crushed by a cement truck, my eyes burn from staring at charts all night, and I’m pretty sure the protein bar I called lunch isn’t going to cut it much longer.
I check my watch. Two more hours until this double shift ends, and I can face-plant into my bed for a measly six hours before I have to do it all over again.
“Dr. Fyodorov!”
I’m halfway to collapsing when Nurse Marcy waves me down at the nurses’ station. I grin, stepping over. Marcy has been working in this ER since before I was born, and rumor has it she’s scared off more attending physicians than the hospital administration cares to admit. I’d like to stay in her good books, thank you very much.
“You look like death, sweetie,” she says, passing me a steaming cup of coffee.
I eye it suspiciously. “Is this real coffee or that sludge from the break room?”
“Do I look like I’d give you that garbage? This is from my personal stash. The good stuff,” she gives me a wink. “Take it before you pass out and make paperwork for all of us.”
I don’t argue and reach for the cup with both hands. My feet ache. My spine feels fused to my shoulders, and I haven’t slept in what feels like weeks, but that’s residency at Massachusetts General Hospital for you. “You trying to bribe me, Marcy?”
“Trying to keep you upright,” She gives me a once-over. “When’s the last time you ate something that didn’t come out of a vending machine?”
I take a sip and almost moan as the caffeine hits my bloodstream. “Does a protein bar count?”
“My goodness!” She clutches her chest in horror. “You’re working too hard!”
“That’s literally the job.” I take a sip, scalding my tongue, but the caffeine shock is worth it. “Besides, Weill Cornell prepared me for this. Sleep deprivation was half the curriculum in med school.”
Marcy snorts, shaking her head. “I still can’t believe you left New York for this madness. With your family up there? Must be going nuts with you running around this ER.”
They all think it’s foolish that I moved out here alone. What they don’t understand is that staying would have been worse. My family means well, but they’re sheltered in their comfortable life where they’ve never had to understand what real struggle is. If they had it their way, I would’ve been wrapped up in a bubble.
I stood my ground against their idea of a good life, thank god.
I earned a spot at Weill Cornell and was accepted into emergency medicine at Mass General. And coming to Boston, doing this on my own—this is the first time I can see myself becoming the person I dreamed of being. Ever since I was a child, I have wanted nothing more than to help people, and what better way than to reunite loved ones safely with their families?
I lean against the counter. My bones practically sigh with relief at not having to support my weight for a moment longer.“They wanted me in some cushy private clinic back home.” I flash her a monstrous grin. “I chose chaos.”
“Mass General’s not chaos—it’s murder.” Marcy laughs, but her eyes soften. “Still. Great job getting in here. It’s the toughest program in the country, you know?”
“Even if I didn’t, they remind us every day.” I let out a whistle, and Marcy laughs.
“Still, you need to take better care of yourself. Your family’s not here to look after you,” she clicks her tongue.
“That’s precisely why I came to Boston,” I give her a small smile. “If I’d stayed in New York, my mother would be force-feeding me borscht three times a day and my brothers would be running background checks on any man who so much as looked at me.”
Helen chuckles. “How many brothers was it again?”
“Three. All older.” I take another sip of coffee. “They still call me every day, you know. To make sure I haven’t dropped dead.”
“That’s what family does. They worry.”
“Mine doesn’t just worry.” I let out a laugh. “They treat me like an infant, still. You should have seen the tears my mother shed when I was leaving New York. One would think I was flying off to space.”
Marcy pats my hand and chuckles. “I get it. I’m a mom, you know?”
“I know, I know,” I say, giving her a warm smile and squeezing her hand. None of us residents has the guts to tell her, but behind her back, we call her Mother Marcy.
The ER buzzes around us, and Marcy gets called away to file in some urgent tests. I know this break can’t last much longer before I’m needed too. Then again, no one said being a first-year resident would be easy. Besides, I love this life more than anything in the world, even with its chaos and constant demands.
And Weill? It’s just the beginning. I’m aiming for Harvard next. I’d love to see my parents’ faces when I tell them that. Right about now? They think I’m failing at life because I don’t have a boyfriend. I smile at the memory of the last phone call I had with my parents, just before they went off for vacation to Russia. What they wanted to know, most of all, was just when I planned to get married.
