— What terrible weather we have today! — he grumbled, peering into the white haze. — God forbid I get stuck in the middle of the way…
The raging blizzard furiously threw snowflakes, turning the street into a freezing whirlpool. Mikhail pulled his head into his shoulders, trying to shield himself from the icy needles piercing his skin. The exhausting workday had drained his strength, and only the thought of hot tea in his cozy apartment pushed him forward through the snowy drifts.
The entrance to the building, like a beacon in the sea of snow, was already visible ahead when a faint moan made him freeze. The sound, like the rustle of dry leaves in the wind, barely broke through the blizzard. Mikhail strained his ears, looking closely at the snowdrifts.
— Help… please… — the voice faded like an ice shard melting in the sun.
At first, he thought it was a hallucination caused by hypothermia, but his inner voice insisted: it was real.
— Hey! Is anyone here? — he shouted, covering his mouth with a scarf.
Only an echo answered him until it sounded again: — Here… very close…
Approaching the snow-covered wall of the house, Mikhail made out a human figure among the snowdrifts. An elderly woman lay almost buried under the snow layer, her hand with a gold wedding ring on the finger helplessly clutching the edge of the snowbank.
— Good heavens! — he dropped to his knees, feeling his jeans getting wet. — What happened? How did you end up here?
Elena Sergeyevna looked at him as if through a fog, her breath escaping in clouds of steam. Her gray strands, sprinkled with frost, resembled a lace shawl.
— I fell… I think my bone is cracked… — the words came painfully. — People passed by… didn’t see…
Mikhail took off his down jacket and covered the woman with it, immediately feeling the piercing cold air on his body. Taking out his phone, he called emergency services, covering her with trembling hands.
— Hold on, the medics will arrive soon, — he repeated, rubbing her numb fingers. — I won’t leave you, I promise.
A spark of hope flashed in her eyes, and a faint blush appeared on her cheeks.
— What’s your name? — he asked to distract her from the pain.
— Elena Sergeyevna… — she whispered, as if exhaling the name with relief.
— Mikhail. Don’t worry, everything will be fine, — he brushed snow off her eyebrows.
It seemed like an eternity passed until the ambulance siren wailed. Paramedics in blue jackets emerged from the snowy whirlpool like rescuers from a fairy tale.
— Are you family? — the doctor raised an eyebrow.
— No, just a passerby, — he began, but the woman interrupted:
— He’s my guardian! — her voice trembled but sounded firm. — Without him I would…
The doctor nodded squinting: — Do you want to accompany her?
Mikhail looked toward the windows of his home — they glowed like the eyes of a kind giant. Hesitating, he stepped into the ambulance after the stretcher.
The hospital lobby smelled of antiseptic and despair. He waited while the medics filled out paperwork and flinched at every squeak of the stretcher wheels in the corridor. An hour later a doctor with a face marked by wrinkles of fatigue approached him.
— Your… acquaintance has a fractured hip and hypothermia. She needs rest, — the doctor leaned against the wall. — She asked if you caught a cold. Amazing concern from a stranger.
Mikhail’s chest tightened like in a vice. This woman, almost dead in the snow, was worried about him!
— When can I visit her?
— Tomorrow, after lunch. She’s currently on an IV drip.
At the exit, a nurse returned his down jacket, smelling of hospital chlorine. He nodded, not feeling the cold that now seemed like mockery.
The next morning greeted him with sunny glints on the snowy drifts. Mikhail, carrying a basket of tangerines and hot chocolate in a thermos, hurried along the cleared paths.
Elena Sergeyevna in the ward looked like a fragile porcelain figurine. Pillows supported her back, and on the bedside table stood a bouquet of wildflowers — a gift from the nurses.
— You’re back! — her eyes, like little lakes, filled with light. — I was afraid it was just a kind dream…
— I never doubted I’d come, — he sat down on a chair, noticing how her fingers gripped the edge of the blanket. — How are you feeling?
— Better, thank you. You have no idea… — she coughed, tears welling in her eyes. — My son didn’t answer my messages… And you…
— No thanks needed, — he shrugged awkwardly. — Tell me about yourself. What did you do before?
And she told him about the years spent teaching at school, about her son who moved to a distant metropolis, about the grandchildren she only saw on a laptop screen. Mikhail listened, catching every word as if they were lines from her favorite books.
Outside the ward, snowflakes danced a waltz, and the hospital noise in the corridor quieted. At that moment he understood: fate had brought them together for a reason.
— He’s a good boy, just consumed by work, — she defended her son, but her voice trembled with longing. — He has his own family, career…
When visiting hours ended, Mikhail promised to return tomorrow. And oddly enough — this promise didn’t weigh on him but filled him with a strange joy, as if these meetings gave him purpose.
Mikhail kept his word. He came daily, bringing not only fruit but stories from childhood, funny things from work to dispel her loneliness. They talked about literature, about heroes’ destinies, about how the world changes.
— You see, Mikhail, — one day Elena Sergeyevna confessed, — when I fell in that blizzard, the fear wasn’t from the fracture. I was afraid I would disappear unnoticed… Become an empty space, as if my trace on earth was erased.
Mikhail gently clasped her fragile hand:
— That will not happen. Now you have me.
She smiled faintly:
— You’re kinder than many. But I don’t want to be a burden to a young man.
— You’re not a burden, — he squeezed her hand. — You… you’ve become like a kindred soul to me.
And it was true. During the days in the hospital, Mikhail grew attached to the teacher with her quiet wisdom, seeing not a lonely pensioner but a keeper of a fading era.
On the discharge day, Mikhail came early. Elena Sergeyevna, dressed in an old-fashioned dress with faded flowers, tried to tidy her hair, but it still stuck out in tufts.
— Ah, here’s your grandson! — said the nurse, adjusting her pillow.
Elena Sergeyevna wanted to deny it, but Mikhail interrupted:
— Yes, I’m here for grandma. Is everything ready?
By the entrance waited a shiny foreign car with a haughty man behind the wheel. As soon as the taxi stopped, he jumped out like a spring.
— Mom! Finally! — Andrey, her son, spoke loudly, but there was no warmth in his voice. — This is Sergey and Olga, — he introduced the couple in expensive coats. — They will buy your apartment. The price is excellent, remember?
Elena Sergeyevna shifted her gaze from her son to the strangers, clutching her crutch so hard her knuckles whitened:
— But… I haven’t agreed yet…
— What’s there to decide? — Andrey interrupted, flashing a steel gaze. — You already agreed. And signed a power of attorney.
— I didn’t sign to sell! — for the first time Elena Sergeyevna raised her voice.
— You signed, mom, just forgot, — Andrey pulled a folder with documents from his leather briefcase. — Look here.
Mikhail, who had been silently watching from the corner, stepped closer:
— May I see?
Andrey shot him an annoyed glance:
— Who are you anyway? This is family business!
— A friend of Elena Sergeyevna, — Mikhail took the papers, and his blood froze in his veins. — This is blatant forgery. The signature date — when she was in intensive care!
Sergey and Olga exchanged looks, clearly feeling awkward. Andrey’s face flushed:
— Mom, enough drama! You can’t live alone. This money will secure your old age!
— I want to live here! — Elena Sergeyevna trembled but stood her ground. — This is my home. It smells of your childhood, here…
— Smells like damp and old age! — Andrey barked. — You will live with me. In normal conditions!
Mikhail stood between them like a living shield:
— If Elena Sergeyevna doesn’t want to sell, the deal is illegal. You have no right.
Andrey looked at him with contempt:
— Get out of the way, boy. You don’t understand what you’re talking about.
— I do, — Mikhail took out his phone. — I’ve already contacted a lawyer. And a notary. The signature was made when your mother was under the influence of painkillers. This is fraud.
Sergey and Olga stepped back toward the door:
— We… will come later.
— No! — Andrey grabbed his mother’s hand. — It’s decided!
— Nothing is decided! — Elena Sergeyevna tore her hand away. — I’m staying. And not selling the apartment.
Mikhail carefully picked up a fallen photo in a silver frame — Elena Sergeyevna with her son at graduation. Andrey’s face then shone with childlike innocence.
— Do you remember what he was like? — Mikhail asked quietly. — Or have you erased that memory too?
Andrey froze. Something human flickered in his eyes but immediately died out:
— You don’t understand anything. This apartment is a heavy inheritance. Better sell it while you can.
— Inheritance? — Elena Sergeyevna leaned on her crutch. — This is our home. Your father did the repairs here before he died. You did your homework here. Here…
She didn’t finish. Tears, previously held back, flowed like a stream. Mikhail hugged her, feeling her body tremble.
— Calm down. I’ll help you. We’ll sort it out together.
Andrey stood, clenching his fists, and at that moment Mikhail clearly saw — before him was not a son but a stranger for whom the apartment was just a number in a contract.
Later, when the potential buyers left and Andrey slammed the door, Elena Sergeyevna sat in the kitchen, stroking an old bread box.
— Why is he like this? — she whispered. — He used to love these walls…
— Because he forgot what it means to have roots, — Mikhail poured her some tea. — But we’ll remind him. Together.
For the first time in many days, a spark of hope flared in her eyes.
The silence in the room became thick like December fog. Andrey drilled Mikhail with a look full of open hostility.
— You don’t see the point, — he said through clenched teeth, — I strive to ensure her safety. After the fracture, she can’t be alone.
Mikhail touched the faded braid on the curtains, as if drawing strength from the patterns of the past:
— Are you sure safety means secretly disposing of her home?
Elena Sergeyevna, previously motionless like an antique clock in the corner, suddenly straightened up. Her voice, fragile as ice at dawn, sounded firm:
— Andrey, I will not part with this apartment. The laughter of your childhood games is preserved here, the smell of your father from the workshop… Even the cracks on the ceiling remind me of the years spent with books.
Her son shuddered as if her words pierced him through and through:
— But how will you live? You’ll fall again, and then what?
— She won’t be alone, — Mikhail intervened, squeezing the pensioner’s hand. — I’ll help with shopping, neighbor Tamara promised to drop by. We’ll organize a schedule.
Andrey, sharply turning, swept the folder off the table. The sheets scattered like autumn leaves in a gust of wind:
— Do what you want! — he threw, slamming the door.
Elena Sergeyevna slowly sank onto the couch, her fingers fiddling with the edge of the knitted blanket:
— He’s my boy… — she whispered. — But why won’t my heart listen to reason?
Mikhail, picking up the scattered documents, noticed a photo of Andrey in first grade:
— Because he still remembers this house, — he said, placing the picture on the nightstand. — He just forgot what love smells like here.
In the evening they drank mint tea from an old samovar. Elena Sergeyevna, warming her hands on the cup, said:
— I always told my students: “Fate is not a straight road but a labyrinth. Sometimes you fall in the snow to find someone who will reach out a hand.”
Seven months later, when the lilac outside had already faded, there was a knock on the door. Andrey stood on the threshold with his wife and high school daughter. His tie was askew, and a bouquet of wildflowers trembled in his hands:
— Sorry, Mom, — his voice trembled like an autumn leaf. — I… I was living in a fog.
Elena Sergeyevna, without a word, hugged her son. The teenage girl, hiding a smile behind the bouquet, whispered to Mikhail:
— Grandma often talks about you. You are like a sudden ray of sunshine in December for her.
Later, when the guests left, Elena Sergeyevna looked out the window where snowflakes swirled in a dance:
— You know, Misha, — her eyes sparkled, — falling into the snowdrift became my salvation. You showed me that family is not walls but those ready to protect them.
Mikhail, looking at the family album on the shelf, replied:
— You taught me that kindness returns through unexpected hearts. Like those flowers growing in asphalt cracks.
Their conversation was interrupted by a call — Tamara was calling for tea and pie. Elena Sergeyevna, grabbing her cane, suddenly laughed:
— Life is just beginning, it turns out. Thank you for helping me see that.
