After a grueling shift, the weary doctor stretched until his joints clicked and, stifling a yawn, slowly approached the window. Outside, the season’s inaugural snowflakes drifted gently, lingering in midair before descending quietly to the ground. The outside world appeared transformed — serene and almost enchanted — yet the hospital buzzed with its usual relentless activity, stark and unfiltered.
Lighting a cigarette and drawing in a nervous breath, the doctor turned to his assistant, Viktor — a young but fatigued order nurse.
“What’s our course of action? She’s cold already. Why bother with this… stray? Summon the morgue staff. It’s finished. Too late.”
Without a word, Viktor approached the stretcher. Almost instinctively, he pressed his fingers against the woman’s wrist, searching for a pulse. It was faint, sporadic, resembling the faint ticking before a clock’s silence. Brushing aside a damp lock of hair, he hesitated. There was something about her face — an indistinct familiarity just beyond reach.
“Yulia?” — the name flashed, immediately dismissed as fanciful delusion. Yulia had a round, youthful face with charming dimples when she smiled. Instead, this was a gaunt, grimy woman, her age impossible to decipher. Years of hardship and deprivation seemed to have erased all trace of the girl he once knew.
While Viktor stood lost in thought, the morgue attendants promptly arrived, moving with efficient silence. They transferred the body carefully, covering it with a sheet, and wheeled it down the hallway, their footsteps echoing like a dull shuffle.
“Vitya,” the doctor called out, noticing papers on the floor. “This drowned woman has documents — take them to the morgue, then get some rest. It’s been a tough day.”
Taking the slightly damp papers, Viktor descended the stairs slowly. On the landing, a stark light bulb nearly blinded him as he unfolded the accompanying sheet: “Saar Yuliya Gennadyevna, 1994.” Among the belongings was a passport — water blurred many pages, but a laminated one remained clear, displaying data and photo.
Suddenly, Viktor’s hands trembled uncontrollably.
- They shared the same birth year and month
- Lived in neighboring, opposite apartments
- Attended the same kindergarten and believed they were family
Since early childhood, Viktor and Yulia considered themselves relatives residing in different parts of one large home.
Yulia was startled when a baby named Tima arrived in their building, introduced as her brother.
“What brother?” she wondered aloud. “Then who is Vitya to me?”
Her parents laughed, responding, “Vitya is just a neighbor. You can explain that at kindergarten.”
A similar situation occurred in Viktor’s house with the arrival of his sister Tanya.
“As the older sibling, Vitya must protect her,” their father said.
“But who protects Yulia?” the boy questioned.
Smiling, his father replied, “I believe you can protect both Yulia and Tanya. You’re a good boy. Just remember, Yulia is a neighbor, Tanya, your sister.”
For a long time, the term “neighbor” unsettled young Vitya. He thought it applied to elderly women downstairs, not to someone he saw daily, played with, shared treasures, and trusted like family.
Upon starting school, they were split into separate classes, sparking an uproar among the children.
“I refuse to attend!” Yulia declared. “They seated me beside a chubby boy who snacks in class! I want to sit with Vitya!”
“I’m not going either!” Viktor responded. “Too many girls here! Swap one for Yulia!”
Their parents petitioned the school administration, resulting in both children placed in the same class, sitting side by side — on condition they refrain from talking during lessons. Throughout elementary school, they feared being separated again.
“Adolescence only brought new challenges,”
Yulia attracted attention from older boys who waited near the school gates, attempting to approach her despite the constant presence of a security guard. Vitya would fend them off with his backpack and books, acting as her protector like a knight in battle.
One day, after classes, Yulia said firmly, “Don’t walk me home anymore.”
Confused, Viktor asked, “Why?”
“It’s better this way. Aren’t you tired of the fights?”
He mumbled in protest, but secretly hid around the corner, witnessing Yulia exit the school, wave at some boys, and walk off beside Robert — a tall, muscular captain of the basketball team.
Tense, Vitya clenched his jaw and stood motionless until the laughing couple disappeared from sight.
From that day forward, they grew to be almost strangers. Yulia married Robert and moved to another region. Her mother, still friends with Viktor’s mother, often shared stories of their daughter’s travels, competitions abroad, and apparent happiness.
Vikia listened without enthusiasm, feeling betrayed, yet deep inside secretly wished Yulia would change her mind and become his wife.
Viktor entered medical school specializing in sports medicine, admiring doctors who treated athletes ringside. However, fate had other plans. In his final year, his father died suddenly. His mother fell ill from grief, forcing Viktor to leave studies and work as an order nurse in the emergency hospital.
Assigned to intensive care, he tended to the gravely ill and injured patients. “It’s not the ring I dreamed of, but still noble work,” he reflected, as he helped another patient from pain shock.
Clutching the passport with the familiar photo, his heart pounded. Before him lay not just a drowned woman, but Yulia — the girl he once loved, cared for, and hoped to forgive.
Running down the corridor, Viktor intercepted the morgue attendants preparing to store her body.
“Stop!” he shouted over the noise. “There’s been a mistake. Take her to intensive care.”
“The doctor wrote hypothermia with fatal outcome,” they replied.
“Wait!” Viktor’s voice trembled with resolve. “She’s not just any patient. It’s my Yulia. We can’t abandon her.”
He reversed the stretcher and pushed toward the elevator, hands shaking with tension and fear.
“Viktor Nikolaevich, this is your responsibility now,” the senior attendant said.
“Absolutely!” Viktor responded without looking back.
Only two patients occupied intensive care: an elderly heart attack victim and a young girl with traumatic brain injury. Viktor gently placed Yulia on a free bed. She felt light, frail, and pale-blue from hypothermia.
He cut her long hair short, wrapped her head in a towel, and connected an IV with a tonic solution. Each precise movement revealed not just training but a deep inner desperation — he could not afford to lose her again.
Though critical, her condition was steady. Her body temperature had plunged dangerously low; her pulse barely hit 40 beats per minute.
Viktor stared at Yulia in disbelief. Her thin, blue-tinged skin and gaunt face betrayed no signs of the joyous life relayed by her mother.
“Vitek, what’s happening here?” the duty doctor’s stern voice interrupted.
“Pavel Sergeyevich, she’s alive. Look at the monitor,” Viktor pointed out.
“But she was already taken to the morgue!”
“I stopped them and reversed the stretcher,” Viktor explained.
“Are you trying to get me into trouble? Neglecting duty or failure to assist?” the doctor snapped.
“No ill intent — she’s my cousin,” Viktor lowered his gaze.
The doctor was stunned. He couldn’t envision such an unkempt patient as the relative of his colleague.
“Why wasn’t she monitored? How did she end up like this?”
“I don’t know,” Viktor confessed. “I’m waiting for her to regain consciousness.”
“Since she means so much to you, I’ll prepare a proper drip,” the doctor said briskly, heading for new supplies.
Gratefully, Viktor replaced the IV solution and thanked him.
“No problem — after all, I am a doctor.”
Viktor sat beside the bed, eyes closed, mind racing with unanswered questions.
Soon, faint moans stirred him awake. Yulia breathed heavily pleading, “Why…”
“Yul, Yulia,” he whispered softly.
Her eyes fluttered open slightly, but as if confused, she barely whispered, “Why did you save me? I don’t want to live…”
“It’s me, Vitya. You’re safe now.”
Tears welled up in her eyes.
“Vitya… I don’t want to…”
He administered a sedative and resumed his vigil, wondering about her despair and whether she had tried to end her life.
After finishing his shift, Viktor instructed the relief nurse to watch Yulia carefully. Once home, he visited the apartment opposite.
“Anna Petrovna, did you speak with Yulia recently?” he inquired.
“No, just a couple of days ago. She said they were going abroad and wouldn’t call much,” she replied.
“A patient resembling her arrived. But since Yulia’s abroad…”
Anna suddenly grabbed his sleeve. “Something’s off. Her voice on the phone was strange. When I asked, she said it was just a slight cold — but I sensed a lie. A mother’s intuition cannot be fooled.”
Viktor tried to calm her and went home.
That evening, the standby nurse phoned urgently.
“Vitya! Your sister tried to climb out the window! We barely stopped her. I fear she’ll be admitted to psychiatry.”
Viktor rushed to the hospital. Yulia, lying under the IV, turned away toward the window when she saw him.
“Shall we talk?” he asked, taking a seat.
She remained silent.
“Your mother said you’re abroad.”
“Mom… well, yes. She believes I’m fine. That her daughter couldn’t be otherwise,” Yulia finally whispered. “But I lied the entire time! I never left with Robert because he didn’t want me along. Said I was a nuisance.”
Her voice trembled with pain.
“I sat alone in a strange city, bored, without skills or education. The only job I found was market sales. When Robert heard, he raged and beat me severely. ‘I don’t want my wife working in stalls!’”
“I responded, ‘Better to work than be caged all day!’ After marriage, he worsened — got a mistress and blamed me for his failures.”
“I left him but lied to my parents to protect them.”
“Where did you live?”
“In a hostel with migrants, surviving on little, damaging my stomach. They kicked me out of food stalls because of my appearance. I switched to selling souvenirs, earning barely enough for medicine.”
Covering her face with her hands, Yulia confessed, “It got worse. I thought I couldn’t go on. So, I planned to return home, confess, and repent. I believed they wouldn’t abandon me. But getting there was another ordeal — I barely remember.”
“Walking through my hometown, thinking ‘Finally home!’ Then Mom called. I lied, saying we were at the airport. I couldn’t admit the truth.”
“Our teacher stood on the sidewalk, hearing my lies and looking at me with shock and disgust. I hurriedly said goodbye and fled — ashamed and disgusted. Who would want me, a liar?”
Viktor listened in silence.
“I ran to the bridge and almost jumped into the cold river. The water was freezing, but I didn’t drown. I hoped it would take me, but it didn’t. I shivered until I lost consciousness.”
Wiping sweat from his forehead, Viktor sighed, “Oh, Yulka! What have you done to yourself? For whom? Some worthless basketball player?”
“Don’t remind me of him!” she pleaded.
“I spoke with your mother yesterday. She fears you’re hiding something. Shall I call her?”
Yulia shook her head first, then burst into tears.
“Maybe… let her see me here, under the IV, instead of in that puffy jacket.”
Within the hour, Anna Petrovna arrived, embracing her daughter, stroking her short hair.
“Please don’t, Mommy, no…” Yulia whispered.
Two weeks of intensive care, nutritious meals, strolls, and vitamins resulted in noticeable improvement. Dimples returned to her cheeks; lips regained color. Passing by her room, a doctor even whistled, “What a beauty we have!”
“Sorry, but I lied,” the chief doctor said, shutting down the remark. “Yulia isn’t my sister — she’s my fiancée. Move along.”
“Ah, the disobedient young generation,” he joked. “Everyone does as they please.”
Leaving the hospital with a bouquet Viktor gave her upon discharge, Yulia smiled gratefully at the staff, thanking and saying goodbye.
The morgue workers, smoking outside, respectfully nodded upon seeing her, exchanging confused glances.
She was finally going home, and for the first time in years, truly desired to live — not just exist, but to love and be loved. For today, Viktor had just asked her to become his wife.
In summary, this poignant tale weaves together themes of childhood bonds, hardship, despair, and the power of hope and love to rekindle life. It highlights how past connections can unexpectedly surface to alter fates and restore meaning in even the darkest moments.