The body seemed to have broken — like a mechanism suddenly stopped working. Like a fragile boat on the border of two worlds: water and air. No breath, no time — only pain that burns from memory even one’s own name. In the fog of consciousness, where dreams intertwine with reality, Alla suddenly realizes: she stands on the edge between life and death.

Somewhere nearby comes a voice — muffled, blurred, as if through water. The voice of her husband, Kolya, seeps through the noise:

— “Allochka… hold on… don’t leave…”

The words spread out as if the edges of the world had blurred. Light strikes from above — cold lamps flash sharply. Strange hands do something quickly, confidently. Someone commands:

— “Pressure! Heart! Fast!”

This professional, slightly hurried voice evokes both fear and a barely noticeable hope.

How she just wants to close her eyes, disconnect from everything — to hear neither the doctors’ orders nor Kolya’s breaking whisper. Inside, a question arises: “Is it even worth fighting?” And the answer — a tremor of fear, strangely resembling fatigue. Somewhere deep inside, vague images of the past flicker, sounds of distant cities, the warm voice of a loved one.

But Alla cannot scream, nor sigh, nor cry — consciousness slips away again. Another wave comes, and it becomes easier.

She returns to reality in fragments: flashes of light, thick silence, harsh sheets. Alla barely understands where she is: sometimes it feels like she’s floating on water, then suddenly she is in a hospital ward. Monitors click evenly, outside the window a gray morning slowly dawns. It seems she moves between worlds, trying to grasp brief moments of the present.

And then — someone is nearby. A girl, small and fragile like a stalk. About six years old, probably. She awkwardly fidgets, her light eyes look directly:

— “I’m Katya. Are you sleeping or dead?”

— “No… Not dead,” Alla squeezes out with difficulty.

— “Good,” the girl sighs with relief. “Because it’s very boring here.”

In those childish words, suddenly there is warmth, the kind that only strong children have. Katya tells about kindergarten, where everyone is mean, about a mother who is never there for her, and about a grandmother who bakes pancakes.

Alla listens as if from afar. Somewhere inside, a familiar pain awakens — the desire to have her own little daughter, for whom it would be worth fighting. But children never came, and now inside is only emptiness and bitterness of what was lost.

Katya takes her hand and whispers:

— “I’ll come tomorrow. Just don’t die, okay?”

The girl disappears behind the door, dissolving in the light. Alla slips back into darkness, but now with a new feeling — cautious, almost unfamiliar anticipation.

Another return — clearer. Warmth, new smells, the air becomes a little lighter. The ward has changed: by the window — a stranger. He approaches, leaving behind a trace of freshness and anxiety.

— “You’ve woken up? Excellent, Alla. I am your attending physician, Yuri Anatolyevich.”

His voice is soft, but his gaze is professional — without excess emotion, but also without cruelty. Alla realizes: she is alive. But for how long? Her whole body hurts so much that thinking is frightening.

— “Your condition is serious, but we see improvements. You are coping. If you keep fighting, everything will work out,” he says, like a son speaking to his mother.

Alla tries to ask about Kolya — was he near? Yuri hesitates, then says:

— “Now it’s important to take care of yourself. Sometimes men get lost in such situations. He left a long time ago. And, to be honest, he wasn’t interested in your condition.”

Her head is noisy — resentment, pain mixed with a new, still weak desire to resist. The doctor takes her hand — firmly, confidently:

— “If you want to live, you can overcome any pain. I will help. But the choice is yours alone. Decide what you want to get up for.”

For a moment, she wants to go back into the darkness. Alla closes her eyes: no strength, no faith, only longing and a desire to forget everything.

— “Shall we continue?” Yuri asks.

— “Yes,” she answers almost in a whisper.

Awakening, Alla feels as if in another world. The ward has become quieter, the light softer, the pain recedes to the background. Morning brings not only light but a strange, fluffy hope. She turns her head — and sees Katya. She is here again: sitting by the window, tracing invisible circles on the glass with her finger.

— “You came…” Alla whispers, trying not to disturb the moment.

— “Of course. Now I will come to see you every day until you are completely healthy.”

Between them hangs a silence — not heavy, but light like a breath. Then Katya timidly asks:

— “Do you have your own children?”

Alla is silent for a long time before answering:

— “No… It didn’t work out. And where is your mom?”

Katya lowers her eyes:

— “She left me. I live here temporarily. Grandma is nearby, but she’s always busy. She says I’m big now, I can manage everything myself. And I really do… But sometimes I want someone to be waiting for me.”

Alla’s heart tightens. In these words — adult resentment, pain, and trust. Such words make one think: how much important has she missed before, how much was lost in life, in people, in herself.

Katya jumps up and unexpectedly hugs her — tightly, as only children can:

— “Let me be your daughter? If you want, of course.”

— “Let’s,” Alla exhales and for the first time in many years allows herself to be just a woman — alive, real, without masks or duties.

Lightness spreads through her body. A cautious hope awakens in her soul. Katya seems to feel it. She takes Alla’s hand, stroking it with her cool finger:

— “Everything will definitely be fine. Because now you’re not alone.”

At that moment, a nurse’s voice is heard in the corridor — it’s time to go. Katya quickly hides a drawn flower under her pillow and disappears. Alla watches her go and suddenly realizes how much she is looking forward to their next meeting.

The next awakening — clear, transparent. The pain has receded, hiding somewhere deep. On the bedside table — a carafe of water, outside the window — a lilac branch creaking on the glass. Yuri Anatolyevich enters almost immediately, smiling tired but sincerely:

— “Alla, you are on the way. The body resists. I truly admire you.”

Something inside responds — for the first time in a long time. Alla dares to make a step that before seemed impossible:

— “Please… don’t tell my husband about my condition. Let him think as he wants. And… don’t let him in here until I want it myself.”

Yuri Anatolyevich is surprised but nods — he understands and approves.

— “Alright. No one except those you wish will enter. If you want, I will transfer you to a private ward.”

It was bold — but right now she needs protection, a new beginning, a chance to leave behind old pain and constant pressure.

— “I need more time with Katya. And silence. No reproaches, no attacks…”

Her voice trembles, but the words come easily, as if she has been saying them for a long time. The doctor nods — with respect and understanding. In Alla’s soul, there is no triumph, only fatigue and a quiet feeling of freedom. Perhaps for the first time in many years she feels — this is her life, her choice, her boundaries.

The ward is changed the same day. A free wind bursts through the window. For the first time in a long time, Alla allows herself not to think about Kolya. Not to fear loneliness. Not to try to justify herself.

The new ward turns out to be much cozier than Alla expected: a small wooden table, an old lampshade with a worn edge, on the wall — a bright children’s drawing, undoubtedly Katya’s. Outside the window, clouds drift slowly, as if specially for those who dream to escape reality.

Katya’s visits become a ray of light in the monotony of hospital days. The girl comes often, bringing her small joys and cares, sharing hot news from kindergarten, talking about her plans, and spreading drawn little people, animals, and whole stories on sheets of paper on the bed.

— “Here, this is you,” she explains, showing another drawing. — “You’re smiling and holding me and grandma’s hands. Look, how beautiful?”

Alla smiles a smile she had long forgotten even in youth. Something warm, alive, awakens inside, as if her heart began to beat truly again.

Yuri Anatolyevich also begins to appear more often, but no longer only as a doctor, but as a close person. Sometimes he drops by in the evening, when the ward becomes especially quiet. Conversations flow easily, without formalities — about the weather, books, gossip. He sometimes brings homemade cookies, shares stories from his life — all simple, but genuinely warm.

Gradually, memories return to Alla — not about her husband, no, but about her father. Smart, reliable, the one she trusted with all her childhood. He’s long gone, but these images remind her how important it is to enjoy small things, notice signs of care, feel part of the world.

Sometimes sadness and fear rush in — that all good things may disappear. But then Katya appears. Taking her hand and whispering:

— “You will definitely succeed!” — she destroys all doubts.

With each day, Alla feels how something important returns inside — connection with life and herself.

In the evenings, when the windows darken and the ward fills with the heaviness of loneliness, the past returns suddenly and vividly. She remembers the day when Kolya came home strange — a confused look, foreign perfume on his clothes, an uncertain voice. Then a short quarrel, his sparse excuses, a hand gesture — as if everything happening did not matter.

— “You knew, right? I’m an adult. And anyway, I support you financially!” — he threw it out, as if accusing her of an invisible sin. — “It would be easier without you!”

Fragments of voices, laughter in the kitchen, the silhouette of another woman… And then coldness in her chest and indifference in his eyes. Alla did not cry — she did not allow herself tears or anger. She just took off her ring, packed her things, and went to the dacha to show: “I am no longer here.”

It was there that the accident happened. Evening forest, fatigue, sudden movement on the road — a hare or a fox. A sharp turn, a brake pedal hit — and… sliding slap, weightlessness, then darkness.

How long that minute lasted, Alla did not remember. But that moment her life shattered into pieces. Betrayal, pain, fear intertwined into one knot. But there was a moment when she realized: if she wants to survive, she must fight herself. Just to get out.

Rehabilitation was strange — at once long and fast. Day after day — exercises, injections, massages, physiotherapy. But Katya’s support gave incredible strength: the girl brought drawings, secrets, news from grandma. Sometimes Alla cried in front of her — and did not feel ashamed. For Katya, tears were not weakness but part of life.

However, thoughts about Kolya did not give peace. She learned that he continued to spend her money, preparing to leave. She received strange notifications, receipts. At some point it became clear: he wants to get rid of her once and for all.

Then Alla for the first time in her life made an independent decision — she contacted her old banker, transferred accounts, started checks. It was the first step to becoming the mistress of her own fate.

Yuri and Katya became those who connected her to a new life. Slowly, like seedlings under the sun, trust grew in Alla, the desire to live, accept help, find new goals.

Even in anxious days she already knew: now there are those nearby who will be with her. And for the first time in many years she felt she had the right to be happy.

News of the intentional brake damage came suddenly, as if someone sharply pulled a curtain early in the morning when you want to stay in the shadows. Yuri entered the ward unusually — lowered his gaze, sat down nearby. Behind him — his brother Andrey, a police officer.

— “We need to talk,” Yuri said softly.

Alla listened as if in a stranger’s dream: the examination showed the brakes on her car were deliberately damaged. Torn bolts, traces of foreign grease — everything pointed to tampering. Suspicion fell on Kolya. He had long behaved strangely, spent her money, disappeared for weeks. Now it turned out he could be involved in the accident.

— “There is reason to believe the damage was intentional. We detained him right at the plane,” Andrey reported.

Shock mixed with anger. So beside her was not just a traitor, but a man willing to take her life for profit. But instead of tears — only determination. Action was necessary.

Further events developed rapidly. Kolya was detained, legal proceedings began. Alla signed a statement, confirmed her safety threat. The past crumbled, but in its place something new was born — confidence in tomorrow.

Now the first to enter the ward were not nurses, but Katya with grandma. Yuri stayed longer than usual, brought news, supported not only with words but also deeds.

For the first time in many months, Alla breathed freely — ahead was not only light but a feeling that she had changed and would live anew.

Recovery did not come immediately — but each day was filled with care. Katya and her grandmother treated Alla like family: grandma cooked broth, the girl staged performances with her favorite teddy bear. Yuri always found a kind word or a joke. The ward was rarely quiet — someone read aloud, someone laughed, someone shared news.

The verdict for Kolya was fair. Alla was freed from his power, from another’s guilt. As if shedding a heavy shell, she confidently took a step down the corridor, holding Katya’s and Yuri’s hands.

And then the long-awaited discharge. At the hospital doorstep, those closest greeted her: Katya with grandma, Yuri with a bouquet of flowers, and a completely new life — one she had never dreamed of before.

— “Come to our place,” Katya said, firmly grabbing her hand. — “You’re ours now.”

A light breeze, laughter, simple joys, support born not from duty but sincere feeling. Alla felt at home for the first time.

Yuri was near — not intrusively, but as it should be. Their conversations grew warmer, their glances more sincere. Evenings they spent together at the big table: tea, pies, dreams about the future.

Life was just beginning — in a new circle, among real people. Alla smiled at her reflection in the mirror. Now she knew: happiness is possible.