Sorry, but with such a diagnosis, surgery is unavoidable,” the doctor said irritably, throwing up his hands as if Sergey had brought the illness on himself.
Sergey felt a boiling rage inside. How many times had he already heard this? How many offices had he visited, hoping to hear something different? And this one — as if reading from the same script. The man suddenly turned sharply toward the door, ready to slam it shut with a bang, but a sudden pain twisted his body, as if invisible steel pincers were crushing his insides. He grabbed the edge of the table convulsively; his eyes clouded over, and a moment later — darkness. Thick, sticky, bottomless.
And he dreamed of his mother… and Galya.
“Sergey! Sergeychik! I think I’m pregnant!” young Galina chirped happily, bustling around the kitchen and packing her husband’s lunch. She was glowing with happiness like a sunbeam and didn’t even notice that Sergey didn’t react to her words.
“Can you imagine how lucky we are? Others suffer for years, and we — here it is, real happiness! We have an apartment and a steady job. We only needed a child for complete family bliss. Aren’t we lucky, Sergey?”
“Galya, let’s make sure first, then celebrate,” his mother-in-law interrupted sternly, slamming her palm on the table. She had come on business — her son had long promised to move the wardrobe but stumbled on news that made her heart freeze.
“Fool,” the woman thought to herself. “Who knows what the test really showed?” Out loud, though, she said nothing — didn’t want to upset her daughter-in-law. But she would definitely tell her son everything. Let him decide.
And the situation was serious. Sergey was also having problems at the factory — rumors of layoffs were buzzing. Where would they put a child now? But in the evening, looking into his wife’s shining eyes — she had already visited the doctor and got confirmation — he couldn’t bring himself to say a word against it.
“Well, okay… We’ll raise the child somehow,” he said indifferently and immediately found himself in Galya’s arms, who kissed him with tears of happiness in her eyes.
“If it’s a girl — let’s name her Angela. If a boy — Timofey, after your father.”
Sergey waved his hand again — call him Vasya for all he cared. He never thought the second year after the wedding would be the year a child was born. Before that, they lived quietly, just the two of them: first with his mother, then they were given an apartment as a young family.
Galina was a good wife — smart, cheerful, hardworking. A real treasure! Just a bit too independent. Her mother raised her alone — Galina didn’t remember her father; he died when she was not yet three. She grew up strong-willed — tough and determined.
At first, she did all the housework herself, not letting her husband help.
“Galya, sit down already! What are you fussing about? Let Sergey fix it himself, you rest,” her mother-in-law grumbled.
But Galina blushed, got embarrassed, and repeated, “No, I’ll do it myself. I told you!”
Gradually she got used to it, relaxed, and began to rejoice that she was no longer alone. She dreamed of having a child — and then, one day, it happened. As if on cue.
They lived well, in love and harmony. They set up a nursery — or rather a corner, since the apartment was a one-room flat. They bought a crib, Sergey assembled it himself, placed it next to the sofa. They got a stroller through acquaintances, an imported one. Her mother gave socks, vests, a warm blanket. Galina sewed swaddling clothes, bought undershirts, accepted gifts from relatives.
Galina worked right up to childbirth — she didn’t take maternity leave. The pregnancy went smoothly, though her belly grew rapidly. Sergey even joked:
“Well, wife, give birth to a strong lad! Maybe twins?”
“Don’t say that!” she laughed, crossing herself. “You’ll jinx it! Just one to raise!”
“We will, Sergey,” she believed in him without limits. “We can handle everything.”
She was that kind of wife — a real pillar. But he… did not live up to her trust. He deeply disappointed her.
The birth started in winter when the first snow fell. Galina went to the maternity hospital with surprising calm — unlike her husband and his mother, who were running around, getting in the way. She simply got into the ambulance and softly said:
“Sergey, just take care of yourself. Keep clean, eat well, and don’t overdo it, okay? I know how you and your friends celebrate.”
She left, and he waited under the window for almost a whole day. Waiting for news.
“You have twins, daddy! Two healthy girls!” the nurse cheerfully announced, unaware of the blow she was delivering.
Sergey went cold. Twins? Where did that come from? Galina, of course, had hinted, but he thought it was a joke. Now…
“My God! How will we manage two?!” his mother wailed when she heard the news. “That’s one mouth too many! At such a time! And girls… shame! No help, no support!”
When they finally let him see his wife, Sergey decided to be honest:
“Galya… we can’t manage two. Think about it yourself. It’s too much. One child — maybe. The second… better to leave behind. She won’t be lost.”
Galina went pale, as if old age had struck her all at once. Her eyes filled with tears and pain. Sergey expected screams, pleas, hysterics… but she just turned and walked away.
“Then I’ll manage myself,” she threw into the void and disappeared behind the ward door, where her little daughters were waiting for their first meeting with their mother.
He, of course, did not believe it. When he came to pick up his wife from the maternity hospital, she was already gone — Galina checked out early in the morning with the daughters. The medical staff clearly sided with her: they glanced sideways, stayed silent, didn’t greet him.
“No wonder, daddy!” one of the doctors couldn’t help but say, casting a short, judgmental glance.
And Sergey didn’t even know where she went. She didn’t return home, didn’t visit his mother either. His mother-in-law slammed the door right in his face — not even willing to talk.
A couple of weeks later, a court summons came. Divorce. Just like that, without extra words.
Galina didn’t look at him once during the hearing. She signed all the papers, came without the children, filed for child support, and left — proud, confident, cold.
“What a fool!” he spat angrily after her. “You’ll see, I was right. Don’t ask me to come back — I won’t accept!”
But she never planned to ask. He never saw her again. Neither her nor his daughters. As if they had vanished into thin air. Galina’s mother remained silent as usual. Acquaintances just shrugged.
The baby crib stayed in their old apartment, neatly folded clothes, undershirts, and swaddling clothes. Once Sergey got drunk and decided to throw it all away. He grabbed the bundle, went to his mother-in-law, and threw it at her:
“Take it! I don’t need this anymore!”
Life spun on. He worked, married, divorced, tried to start fresh… And all this time, a certain emptiness grew inside him that could not be filled.
Then — illness. Maybe it had been developing for a long time, maybe it appeared suddenly. It didn’t matter. The main thing — no money for treatment, and especially not for surgery. His mother had long passed away, and maybe it was for the best — she wouldn’t see her son fading away.
But most often he thought about Galya. About how life would have turned out if he hadn’t been such a selfish man. If he hadn’t driven her away back then…
He woke up in a bright ward, his head spinning, thoughts confused. A nurse bustled nearby:
“Oh, you’re awake? Excellent! Now rest — you need strength. The surgery went well; now recovery begins.”
Sergey struggled to sit up:
“But I couldn’t afford this… I have no money for surgery.”
The nurse just shrugged:
“Who told you you have to pay? Everything’s been paid for. There are still good people in this world.”
“Who? It can’t be!” he didn’t believe.
“It can!” the woman smiled. “She just walked by.”
Sergey almost fell off the bed but managed to reach the door, leaning against the wall. In the corridor stood a young woman, dressed stylishly, speaking with the doctor. She turned — and Sergey’s heart stopped.
It was Galina. No, not quite — a different face, younger, but the features were the same… His Galya.
“Galya?!” he blurted out.
The woman raised her eyebrows in surprise, whispered something to the doctor, and came over.
“Sorry, you must be mistaken. That’s what my mother’s name was.”
Sergey nodded awkwardly. Of course, this wasn’t Galina. So many years had passed… So this was his daughter.
“Excuse me… The nurse said you paid for my treatment. Why?”
The girl tilted her head slightly:
“I just can help. Sometimes I support people with your diagnosis.”
“Do you have a sister?”
“Yes. Tanya.”
His heart stopped. That was them. Both girls. His daughters. And this woman was Angela. The very one he once told: ‘Keep one, forget the other.’
“Do you… know me?” he asked, almost without hope.
“I do. Mom showed me your photo. But I don’t help because you’re my father. I just can.”
“And Galina…” his voice trembled.
“Mom has been gone for two years. Since then, I started helping sick people like you.”
The operation went well. Sergey was recovering. A few months later, tests showed — he was healthy.
Angela took him to the cemetery where Galina lay. She placed flowers, stepped aside — letting him be alone with the past.
Sergey stood before a simple, low monument, looked at the photo of the young woman, and cried like a child. He fell to his knees before the grave and began to ask for forgiveness — from whom, he didn’t know. Only understood that time could never be returned.
The daughters were strangers to him. Angela spoke to him and tried to be kind, but Tanya didn’t even let him in. And it was her right — not his to judge.
Both girls were spitting images of Galina. Like a living reminder of what he deprived himself of by his selfishness.
When he laid roses on the grave, he slowly walked away. Angela walked beside him. Sergey didn’t dare to look at her.
And suddenly her hand lay on his. A light, warm touch.
“Not all is lost… Thank God.”
