Foreword

Thingvellir National Park.

Reykjavik-Iceland.

Natasha.

A month ago I received an invitation from the hospital in Oslo to the international congress of doctors. Few people ever get an invitation. You must have caught the eye of a senior hospital executive, or, you really are a doctor who deserves to expand your knowledge with other colleagues.

To be honest I didn't expect to be invited, but I thank whoever did. Because for the first time in a long time, I managed to travel alone and get to know Iceland. I have shared with several people here.

Knowledge about any medical subject for me is worth gold.

I have tried to talk to someone who is a specialist in neurology, but haven't had much luck. It was a good morning at the hotel. Productive for sharing ideas and lively because they were doing internships on general medicine or, some unusual specialty.

At nightfall we were invited to Thingvellir Park for a front row view of the Northern Lights. It is the most beautiful thing my eyes could observe. You breathe peace, tranquility and there are a lot of couples in this place.

I was too deep in my thoughts walking in slow motion, when a person, warm enough, stumbles past me making me startle.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," I excused myself, "I didn't see where I was going. Are you all right?" I look at him with some concern.

He's a man... those eyes look like I've seen them before.

I hope I didn't hurt him and that he's not someone very important either. If I managed to do him any harm and he is a powerful person, my career as a doctor dies tonight.

"Don't worry, I was thinking about other things," he smiles at me, and I sigh in relief at that answer.

"Then I'll leave," I say to him, giving her a friendly smile.

The man who could only see a bit of his blond hair. The balaclava didn't leave much to be seen. Those beautiful blue eyes that the guy is wearing, they look at me as if I were something very valuable.

For a moment, just for a moment, I think I saw this person.

Those eyes are so familiar...

Where could I have seen them before?

"Are you Russian?" I look at him in astonishment. "Excuse me, I noticed your little accent while you were talking. I'm Russian too, I just try to hide it."

"He's terrible at lying. He has a very strong accent" talking to him makes me nostalgic. "Yes, I'm Russian, but I'm much better at hiding it" this time, I spoke properly. "It's just that in my family you have to speak neutral."

The blond boy nods, I look at the time on my cell phone and realize I have to go back to the hotel. I look at him embarrassed because even though I want to continue talking to him to find out where I know him from, I know clearly that I can't. I'm not going to be able to.

"I must go, I hope to see him here again," I look at his clothes, laughing internally because it's the first time I talk to a stranger and I don't judge him. "It's too cold, if I see him again I'm sure I won't recognize him."

"Don't worry," he points to the lit screen of my cell phone. "They're waiting for you. I'll see you soon, I promise," I smile, he speaks to me again. "I hope Sasha's death hasn't affected you as much as it has my family."

My smile fades quickly, my heart races and a terrible urge to cry comes over me.

That name... Sasha, no.

"Sasha, did he die? I... he... he... it can't be true," I mumble, one of the hotel tour guides comes over to find me. I don't know why his name does this to me.

"Ask Uncle Stefano, Natasha," I open my eyes in surprise, this guy knows my family. "They will tell you the whole truth, not me."

Without further ado, he disappears from my sight, leaving me with a thousand unanswered questions. My heart hurts, I'm dying to cry and the only name that sounds in my mind is that... Sasha.

Who is Sasha supposed to be and why does it hurt me, that he died?

Why does that boy know my uncle Stefano?

What are they hiding from me?

Right now I wish I had my memories back. To be able to discover who is the dying boy who owns my dreams and insomnia and for the first time in almost 20 years, to discover who I am.

Natasha, who are you supposed to be?