Irina locked the car door and stood motionless, staring into space. Her fingers jerkingly clutched the official form that had just come out of the mailbox. Another bill from a private clinic. The numbers printed by the soulless printer swam before her eyes, transforming into a heavy accusation.
Her husband, her beloved Pavel, was ill. And the expensive treatment, which did not bring results, gradually draw everything out of their lives: money, strength, and even hope itself.
But most of all, Irina was tortured by a feeling of guilt – sharp as broken glass. How could she have missed the moment when a popular ailment changed into this painful, mysterious illness? She was frequently busy – business requested attention, time, energy. But she needed to slow down, look into the eyes, listen…
She replayed the last few years in her head. Here he was, complaining of being tired.
It was as if the memory deliberately brought back that hospital scene – the day when Pavel was finally taken to the clinic. He spoke for a long time, carefully laid out the tests, but the essence came down to one strange, almost abstract diagnosis:
— The body is simply tired. Complete rest is needed.
– What – tired? We live in the twenty-first century! Is it impossible to find the exact cause?
The doctor just spread his arms. There was something false, superficial hidden in this movement. Irina could barely hold back a scream. And Pavel, lying on the immaculate white sheets, seemed alien. His gaze was empty.
When they were alone, he muttered:
– Irish, leave me alone. I don’t want to be treated anymore. Even if it’s free. I just want it all to end.
He continually apologized, as if he felt guilty for his existence.
“No need, Ir, it’s too expensive for a useless person like me,” he said.
Irina pulled it all off alone. Her workshop for sewing designer soft toys, which she had been creating for years, was now the only source of income.
Once, before her illness, she tried to involve Pavel in the matter. She thought that a popular activity would bring them closer. But all attempts ended in conflicts. He did everything carelessly, took offense at the slightest comments. And a day later he went to bed and never got up.
Today, a call from Galina Alekseyevna, her deputy, tore Irina out of her thoughts. Because of an accident at the substation, the power was cut off at the factory. Work stopped. Having sent the seamstresses home, Irina realized that she had unexpectedly received free time. She decided to go to her husband early.
Near the entrance, on a wooden bench, sat a girl of about nine years old. Next to her was a cardboard box with a felt-tip pen inscription: “Help for dad’s operation . ”
My heart sank. Irina came over.
“Hello. What occured?” she asked softly.
– My dad Anton is here. Only in the free department. He needs an urgent operation, and we… – his voice trembled – have no money at all. He got hurt at work, fell from a construction site.
– Take it. It’s not much, but maybe it will help.
– Thank you! A very, very big thank you!
Irina smiled bitterly and, almost automatically, took out her phone.
“And I’m going to see my husband,” she showed a photo of Pavel, happy and smiling, taken in better times. “He’s sick too. For a long time.”
“You’ve come to your place, haven’t you? To the private ward?” she muttered quickly, looking around.
– Yes. To my husband. What’s wrong?
The girl leaned towards his ear:
– Auntie… install a camera in his room. Just to check. Sometimes it helps to seek the truth.
There she bought a miniature camera the size of a button.
“It’s just paranoia,” she told herself.
“I want to be sure that he really does need rest. That the doctors aren’t lying. That he’s okay.”
In the ward, another scandal awaited them. Pavel was irritated, the peaches were too hard, Irina looked too tired. One word led to another, and they were shouting at each other, spilling out everything that had accumulated over the months.
Having said goodbye with hugs, Irina, while Pavel turned to the window to look at the sunset one last time, with trembling fingers attached a miniature camera to the spine of an old book on the shelf.
She got into her car, took a deep breath and turned on the camera feed.
What she saw the next minute made her world in an instant.
As soon as the door closed behind her, her “dying” husband jumped out of bed. He stretched as if he had just woken up from a good night’s sleep, walked around the room, stretching his shoulders, and pulled out his phone.
– Yes, Bunny, – he said loudly and cheerfully.
– No, that bore hasn’t left yet. I had to play sick again, you understand. Be patient a little, soon everything will be ours – her money, her business… her whole life.
A few minutes later, doctor Vyacheslav entered the room without knocking.
“This Irina has worn me out,” he grumbled.
“Every day: ‘How is he? What did the tests show?’ My soul is leaving.”
“Don’t worry, friend,” Pavel slapped him on the shoulder.
“We’ll solve this problem soon. I think we can destr0y him a little or just kidnap him and force him to hand over the company to me. End of story.”
The nightmare finished the arrival of two young women, noisy and uninhibited, with bags of wine and snacks. Ten minutes later, music was already blasting in the room, some were dancing, some were laughing. The hospital room had transformed into an impromptu party.
In the morning, Irina was already different.
The tired woman, tormented by doubts, had vanished. In her place there kept only a determined, collected woman, ready to act. She called Galina Alekseyevna and firmly said that she was taking an indefinite leave.
The first thing she did was go to a famous lawyer.
– We will destroy them.
But before that, Irina decided to do something else important. That same day, Irina went to the free department of the clinic where Anton was staying.
She didn’t have that money on hand, but she knew she would find it. It became a matter of honor. She would withdraw a deposit, take out a loan – but she would help.
Finding Lisa on the same bench at the entrance, Irina sat down next to her.
– Liza, your dad will have an operation. I made arrangements and paid for everything.
When Anton came to after a successful operation, Irina finally met him in person. He was a strong, taciturn man of about forty, with kind, honest eyes. He thanked her modestly, warmly, sincerely.
“Lisa shouldn’t be alone in the dorm while you’re recovering,” she told him one day.
“Let her live with me. I have a big house.”
Anton agreed with gratitude, almost trepidation.
He tried to feign official concern:
– Irina Viktorovna, debts for the stay…
– I filed for divorce. And your conversation with Pavel, the party in the ward and the plan to kidnap me have long been with the police. Goodbye, doctor.
Two weeks passed.
Anton and Lisa moved in with Irina. At first it was temporary. But the days transformed into weeks. The cold, empty house was full of life, laughter, and warmth. Lisa, finding herself in a cozy environment, enhanced her school grades. Anton, as soon as he got stronger, became a jack of all trades – he fixed, repaired, helped.
Something new was beginning to emerge between Irina and Anton. Slowly, carefully, but real.
One evening, Lisa, watching them prepare dinner together, announced with childish directness:
– You are actually a family. You just don’t want to notice it.
Irina and Anton looked at each other and laughed. But in this laughter there was both timid joy and hope.
When Lisa was already asleep, they sat in the kitchen, drank tea and talked about everything: about pain, about betrayal, about new dreams.
– Ira… I’ve been thinking about you since the very first day. You saved Lisa and me. I don’t know if I can thank you enough.
“No need for thanks,” she replied softly. “You saved me.”
Irina learned about it from the news and felt neither gloating nor a desire for revenge. Only relief. A chapter of her life was ended.
