The evening shift in the on-call room of the district hospital always felt like a small play. The nurses exchanged tired glances for fresh ones, handed over duties like a relay race, along with the latest news.
Olga adjusted her medical cap in front of the cloudy mirror, critically examining her reflection. The corners of her lips twitched into a barely noticeable smirk:
“Looks like you spent the night not in bed, but in a potato field again.”
Next to her, sitting on a chair with one leg crossed over the other, was Alina. Her gaze wandered around the room, pausing on the new orderly — Marina — who was silently folding clean gowns on the shelves.
“Look at her,” she whispered to Olga, leaning closer. “Hair tied back, not a drop of makeup… as if she came not to work, but to take an exam.”
Olga just shrugged:
“She came to work, not to shine with beauty. Who here needs a princess?”
Alina snorted, still watching Marina:
“You’re defending her again? Must be friends by now. I’m just saying she’s way too quiet. You have to be careful with people like that.”
“You’re just looking for someone to pick on too often,” Olga replied gently, smiling slightly. “Maybe it’s time to stop?”
Alina pouted, but something close to hurt flickered in her eyes.
“I don’t like her. There’s too much silence around her.”
Marina, as if not hearing their whispers, continued carefully folding the gowns. Outside the window, dusk was falling, and the corridor filled with voices, footsteps, and the sounds of the hospital’s evening life.
“Today there’s a case review about that girl in intensive care,” Alina suddenly said. “Did you hear? Her parents almost fought this morning.”
“No wonder,” Olga sighed. “Who could bear that? Could you decide others’ fates?”
Alina looked thoughtfully at the ceiling:
“I don’t know… I think not. I’m afraid of death myself.”
“And I fear indifference the most,” Olga quietly answered.
At that moment, a sharp shout rang out in the corridor:
“Orderly! Where’s the orderly?!”
Marina quickly gathered herself and left, leaving behind a faint smell of soap and a shadow of worry.
“There she goes,” Alina nodded after her. “Quiet, but still noticeable.”
“Maybe that’s her strength,” Olga said thoughtfully.
A month and a half ago, the morning began with the siren of an ambulance. Marina, then still new, stood by the window watching a crowd gathering by the entrance — someone shouting, someone crying. In the center were two people: a woman with disheveled hair and a man clenching his fists so tightly his knuckles turned white.
“Lisa!” came a desperate cry from the crowd. “Please, not her…”
Lisa was a student, daughter of wealthy parents. Always smiling, active, with long blonde hair and a constant notebook full of poems. She loved motorcycles, and her boyfriend Nikita was just as free-spirited — a racer dreaming of winning the city cup someday.
That day, a small animal ran onto the road. Nikita shouted, but Lisa didn’t manage to swerve. The motorcycle flipped. The girl was brought in in critical condition. The parents blamed Nikita for everything.
“It’s his fault Lisa got involved!” the father cried. “If not for him, she’d be home now!”
Nikita became a regular visitor at the hospital. At night, he sat on a bench; during the day, he begged just to see Lisa. Sometimes he wrote with chalk on the pavement: “Lisa, hold on.” His face became part of the hospital’s landscape — pale, exhausted, eyes red from crying.
In the evening, Marina entered Lisa’s room. Silence reigned, only the monitors beeped rhythmically and a faint scent of medicine lingered. She carefully cleaned the floor, trying not to make noise. Occasionally, she glanced at the girl — beautiful even in a coma.
And suddenly she heard:
“Nikita…”
Marina flinched, dropping her rag. Her heart pounded somewhere in her throat. She froze, listening — the monitors showed no changes, everything was as before.
“It was just my imagination,” she whispered, “I’m just tired.”
Finishing cleaning, she hurried out. In the corridor, she bumped into Alina.
“Watch where you’re going!” Alina sneered.
This time Marina answered firmly:
“You should be more careful.”
Alina was taken aback. Marina passed by, feeling something inside her begin to change — fear giving way to determination.
That day, the department was unusually tense. Everyone talked about one thing — the arrival of Professor Evgeny Parkhomenko. Former head of intensive care, now the chief of a clinic in the capital. Everyone awaited his decision, hoping for the slightest glimpse of hope for Lisa.
“Do you think he can do it?” Olga asked Alina. “Or is everything already decided?”
“I don’t know,” she sighed. “They say he’s strict but fair. Maybe a miracle will happen.”
Delegations from Moscow bustled through the corridors, names of famous specialists ringing out. Anxiety hung in the air.
Vera Vsevolodovna, Lisa’s mother, sat on a bench clutching a crumpled towel. Marina approached, offering a glass of water.
“Thank you,” the woman whispered. “Can you sit here with me?”
Marina nodded and sat down beside her. They were silent for a long time until Vera suddenly spoke:
“You know, once a doctor took my father away from me. His name was Evgeny Parkhomenko. He was his attending physician. Decided to disconnect him from the machine. I was very young then. But since then I can’t forgive him… though I understand he did what was right.”
Vera Vsevolodovna looked at Marina with sympathy:
“Sometimes it feels like guilt eats you from inside. But that’s because you love. Otherwise, you wouldn’t suffer so.”
Marina clenched her hands:
“I can’t forgive myself either. Even though I know it was impossible to save him, my heart won’t listen.”
“The main thing is not to lose hope,” Vera sighed. “Sometimes hope is all we have.”
They sat quietly a little longer, sharing pain and a shadow of faith. Both knew the case review was ahead. Both braced for the worst.
But when Marina went out, she saw Nikita by the windows. Thin, gaunt, with dimmed eyes. Passing by, Vera Vsevolodovna suddenly said:
“He’s here every day. Not a step away from the hospital.”
Marina sharply turned, remembering that whisper in the room. Her heart tightened.
“I heard Lisa say his name,” she whispered. “It wasn’t a dream. She called him. She remembered him.”
Vera Vsevolodovna grabbed her chest convulsively:
“Are you sure? You really heard her?”
Marina nodded, clenching her fists:
“Yes! She called Nikita. I couldn’t be mistaken. She must not be disconnected — she’s alive!”
“Then we act,” Vera said decisively. “We can’t waste a minute.”
Marina rushed down the corridor as if chasing life itself. Her thoughts tangled, her legs wobbled, but she didn’t stop.
Alina blocked her path, smirking:
“Where are you rushing off to, orderly? Decided to save the world?”
Marina broke free:
“Let me go! This is important!”
She burst into the office where doctors had already gathered: Boris Alexandrovich, Professor Parkhomenko, and other specialists. The atmosphere was thick, like fog before a storm.
“Don’t disconnect Lisa!” Marina shouted. “I heard her voice! She showed signs of consciousness!”
Boris Alexandrovich snorted skeptically:
“The monitors would have shown it. That’s just fantasy.”
Evgeny Parkhomenko raised his hand:
“Let’s hear her out.”
Marina’s voice trembled, but her words were clear. She told of the whisper, how Lisa spoke her beloved’s name. The doctors exchanged glances, some shook their heads.
“That’s impossible,” one murmured. “The equipment would have detected it.”
“Maybe the sensors were displaced?” Parkhomenko suggested.
But Boris Alexandrovich waved irritably:
“We can’t base decisions on an orderly’s words. Marina, you’re fired. Alina, escort her out.”
Alina smugly took Marina by the arm:
“Congrats, now you’ll be sweeping the yard.”
Marina lowered her eyes, feeling her whole world collapse.
Her things were packed quickly. Marina walked down the familiar corridor, not meeting a single sympathetic glance. Inside, everything tightened.
“What if I was wrong? What if it was just my imagination? Now no one needs me…”
Outside, she breathed the cold air and for the first time in a long time, allowed herself to cry.
Late that night, Marina sat at home hugging a photo of her father. Tears ran down her cheeks.
“Dad… I failed. Forgive me…”
Falling asleep, she had a dream: her father stood at the doorway, like in childhood, speaking quietly and kindly:
“Everything will be fine, Marishka. You’re stronger than you think.”
In the morning, persistent knocking woke her. Her heart pounded. At the door stood Evgeny Parkhomenko.
“May I come in?” he asked softly.
Marina nodded, unable to say a word.
He sat on the edge of a chair, rubbing his temples:
“Lisa has awakened. Nikita was by her side. He managed to talk to her. She opened her eyes.”
Marina couldn’t believe her ears:
“Really?”
“Yes. It turned out some sensors were disconnected. That’s why the monitors showed nothing.”
Tears flowed again, but this time from relief. Marina covered her face with her hands.
“I was afraid I was wrong…”
“You weren’t,” Evgeny said softly. “You saved her life.”
He paused and added:
“The chief doctor apologized. You’re not fired. You’ve been reinstated.”
Marina smiled through tears:
“Thank you…”
“Why an orderly?” he suddenly asked. “You could have become a doctor.”
“I’m studying,” Marina admitted. “Third year of medical school. I work here part-time in the summer.”
Evgeny nodded, listening carefully.
“You wanted to prove to me that saving someone is possible, right?”
Marina lowered her eyes:
“I was angry at you. For my father. I thought if I saved even one person, it would be easier.”
“I’m not making excuses,” Evgeny said quietly. “But sometimes we do what we must. And the pain remains.”
Marina looked into his eyes:
“I want to try to forgive. Maybe then I can forgive myself.”
Evgeny smiled:
“Then let’s start with dinner. I haven’t eaten alone in a long time.”
And Marina laughed:
“Me neither.”
Thus began a new chapter of their lives.
In the evening, Marina paced around the apartment, trying on dresses. Each seemed either too plain or too fancy. In the end, she chose a modest blue one.
Evgeny waited by the entrance, smiling:
“You look wonderful.”
Jazz played in the restaurant; soft light caressed faces. Marina laughed freely for the first time in a long while, without fear of tomorrow.
“I’ve regretted almost turning forty ten times,” he admitted. “But today, I’m happy.”
“I thought happiness was a myth,” Marina replied.
“I’ll stop by tomorrow to sort out your job,” he promised. “I want you to work in my clinic.”
That evening, everything seemed possible.
At the hospital entrance, colleagues had already gathered. Alina stood apart, her gaze challenging. But when Evgeny opened the door and offered his hand to Marina, everyone froze.
Olga smirked openly approvingly. Alina didn’t know where to look.
Vera Vsevolodovna and Nikita approached Marina. Vera hugged her, hot tears running down her cheeks:
“Thank you. You saved my daughter.”
Evgeny announced his offer:
“I have a place at my clinic. At first, an internship, and then—who knows?”
Marina nodded, feeling only good things ahead.
Years passed.
Marina worked alongside Evgeny; they became family. A little Varvara appeared in their home.
Sitting by the crib, Marina stroked her daughter’s fluffy hair and thought:
“Life teaches us not only to make decisions but to forgive. Without that, we cannot move forward. Sometimes the most important words are ‘sorry’ and ‘thank you.’ Those who say them can change the world.”
Outside, the sun shone, and for the first time in many years, Marina felt that everything was truly — good.
