“Will you be on the night shift again, Mom?” Katya’s voice was soft but tinged with disappointment, her eyes searching her mother’s face for a different answer—any answer but the one she feared.
“Yes, honey,” Marina replied gently, brushing her daughter’s hand with affection. “But you and Yura will be good, right?”
“We always are,” Katya said, but her brow furrowed. “You never take a break. You need time for yourself too.”
Marina forced a smile, trying to keep things light.
“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’m doing this for us. So you can have everything you need. Don’t you want to be the prettiest girl at graduation?”
Katya let out a sigh. “I just wish you were home more often.”
“One more year,” Marina said, her voice trailing off as she closed her eyes for a moment. “Just one more year and the loan will finally be gone.”
Once upon a time, Marina had a life that felt whole—marriage, children, stability. Then her husband had a grand idea: his own business. She hadn’t asked too many questions. She trusted him. But when the loan was approved, it was her name on the papers.
Not long after, he dropped another bomb—he’d fallen in love with someone else. Still, he promised to keep making payments. She was barely beginning to process the betrayal when tragedy struck: a fatal car accident.
Now it was just Marina, her two kids, and a mountain of debt.
Standing by his grave, she had felt empty. How was she supposed to raise a family alone? Some nights, the debt seemed like a noose tightening around her neck. The only thing left of value was her share of the apartment.
Five long years passed. She stretched every coin, directing child support and her salary toward the loan. What was left went to basic survival. Thankfully, Katya stepped up, caring for little Yura like a second mother.
“I have to head out now,” Marina said as she kissed Katya’s forehead. “Check Yura’s homework. Make sure he’s back by nine. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
The hospital was on the far end of the city, and her commute ate up an hour each way. She’d thought of switching jobs, but this place had become a second home.
“Good evening, Marina Nikolaevna,” came a voice from the corridor.
It was Sergey Andreyevich, a recently retired doctor who had returned to work out of boredom. In his late fifties, polite and unassuming, he was only a few years older than Marina. He often lingered around her, offering help or conversation. Rumors buzzed quietly among the staff, but Marina pretended not to notice.
“Evening, Sergey Andreyevich,” she replied, trying to slip past him.
Later, while taking a short break in the courtyard, Marina sat on a bench to catch her breath. Sergey appeared again, this time more direct.
“I want to take you to the movies. A restaurant feels too formal, and theater might be too much. I thought this would be simple. You can’t say no,” he said, half-joking.
Marina laughed in spite of herself. “Reading my mind now?”
“No need,” he smiled. “Every time I approach you, you run.”
“Is it that obvious?”
“Completely. But we’re both adults. We can’t ignore there’s something here.”
Marina hesitated, then admitted, “I’m not used to… any of this.”
“That’s okay. Life moves on,” he said warmly.
“Fine,” she agreed. “But I barely have any free time.”
“I noticed,” he chuckled. “Still, I’d like to know more about you.”
And so, she told him everything—from her marriage to the betrayal, from the debts to the long nights. He listened quietly.
“Think twice before inviting someone with this much baggage,” she concluded with a faint smile.
“Everyone’s got baggage. The trick is finding someone who’ll help you carry it,” Sergey replied.
They spoke about the past. About an old friend who vanished after Marina’s wedding—Lena. She’d been in love with Marina’s husband too. They’d never spoken again.
Suddenly, a nurse interrupted.
“Marina Nikolaevna! You’re needed in the OR immediately!”
Inside the OR, Marina reviewed the labs without glancing at the patient.
“How are you feeling?” she asked automatically, then looked up—and froze.
It was him.
Kostya.
Alive.
His face turned away, shame or fear in his eyes.
“But he’s dead,” Marina’s mind reeled. Yet here he was, bleeding out, identity hidden behind falsified documents.
Shaking, she pushed emotion aside. The patient needed saving. She operated with robotic precision.
After surgery, Marina stepped into the hallway—only to see a woman rushing toward her.
“How is he? My husband?”
Marina turned sharply. “Lena?”
“Marina?” Lena’s face paled. “I didn’t know you worked here…”
They moved to a quiet room. Sergey followed and stayed at Marina’s side.
“Start talking,” Marina demanded.
Lena confessed: she’d returned years ago, rekindled things with Kostya, and together they’d faked his death to escape debt and obligations. Their business failed, and they were found by creditors. The attack that brought Kostya to the hospital? It was retribution.
“We thought maybe… maybe you’d sell your apartment to help,” Lena added meekly.
Marina’s eyes flared.
“Help? After everything he put me through? I paid that loan alone. Do you even understand what you’re asking?”
Sergey interjected calmly. “We should call the police. He needs to face the consequences. And you, Marina, deserve peace.”
“Please, Marina, don’t turn us in! He’s the father of your children!” Lena pleaded.
“The man I buried? That man died. You and he made a mockery of our lives. Sergey, call the police.”
He nodded and dialed.
Back home, Katya sensed something was wrong.
“Mom? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Marina sat her children down and told them everything. When she finished, Katya said:
“While we paid his debts, he was off playing house with someone else? I wish he’d stayed dead.”
“I’m not going to argue,” Marina said quietly. “For me, he died twice.”
Six months passed.
The apartment was filled with the scent of roasted chicken.
“Are we celebrating something?” Katya asked, hanging up her coat.
“Dinner’s in thirty minutes. Go help Yura set the table,” Marina replied, almost glowing.
“Wait… are you getting married?” Katya raised an eyebrow.
Marina blushed. “I want you to meet someone. His name is Sergey.”
The children paused—then embraced her.
“If he’s a good man, we’re happy for you.”
Marina smiled through her tears. “He is. I promise.”
A knock came at the door.
Yura rushed to open it. “I’ll get it!”
Marina stood still for a moment, heart full. There was no going back now.
They held a modest family wedding the following month. Sergey proved to be a steady, kind presence. Yura adored him. Katya grew to trust him too.
Kostya and Lena were charged with fraud. Marina had to testify—her name was still on everything. The courtroom was filled with anger and blame. Marina felt only pity.
The loan? Still hers. The court refused to cancel it. But Sergey stepped in.
“It’s over, Marish,” he said one night, holding her close. “Let’s build something new. Though I may be broke now,” he joked.
She laughed.
“We’ll earn it back. Together.”
And she believed it—this time, with all her heart.