<\/p>\n
The on-duty doctor, worn out after a long shift, stretched, yawned, and gazed out at the season\u2019s first snowfall \u2014 soft, silent, and almost magical. Inside the hospital, the chaos remained.<\/p>\n
Lighting a cigarette, he turned to his assistant, Viktor. \u201cShe\u2019s cold already. Call the morgue. It\u2019s too late.\u201d<\/p>\n
Viktor approached the stretcher. A faint pulse. He pushed aside wet hair\u2014and froze. The gaunt face triggered a memory: Yulia?<\/em> No, it couldn\u2019t be. Yulia had dimples, warmth. This woman was unrecognizable.<\/p>\n The morgue attendants arrived, efficient and wordless. As they wheeled her away, the doctor handed Viktor her soaked documents. On the landing, he read: Saar Yuliya Gennadyevna, born 1994.<\/strong> The photo confirmed it \u2014 Yulia<\/strong>, his childhood friend, once like family.<\/p>\n They had grown up across the hall, inseparable. School tried to part them, but they fought back. In adolescence, she drifted away, married a popular athlete, and disappeared. He felt betrayed but never forgot her.<\/p>\n Viktor chased down the morgue team. \u201cStop! She’s alive \u2014 barely. And she\u2019s not just anyone. She\u2019s Yulia<\/em>. My Yulia.\u201d<\/p>\n He rushed her to intensive care. Despite her condition \u2014 hypothermia, weak pulse \u2014 he fought to save her. When the doctor objected, Viktor confessed: \u201cShe\u2019s my cousin.\u201d That lie earned her a second chance.<\/p>\n Later, Yulia stirred and whispered, \u201cWhy did you save me? I don\u2019t want to live\u2026\u201d Viktor comforted her.<\/p>\n Off-shift, he visited her mother. She hadn’t spoken to Yulia in days but felt something was wrong. That night, the nurse called \u2014 Yulia had tried to jump out the window. Viktor rushed back.<\/p>\n In the ward, Yulia finally opened up: her marriage failed, she was abused, broke, and hiding her shame. She lied to her family and ended up on the streets. Drowning seemed easier. But the river spared her.<\/p>\n Viktor offered to call her mother. At first, she resisted. Then: \u201cLet her see me like this, not in that coat.\u201d<\/p>\n Anna Petrovna came, embraced her daughter without judgment. Recovery began.<\/p>\n Weeks later, Yulia\u2019s color returned, her dimples too. When a doctor flirted, Pavel Sergeyevich stepped in: \u201cBack off \u2014 she\u2019s my fianc\u00e9e.\u201d Another small lie, this time from Viktor, now ready to make it real.<\/p>\n On discharge day, Yulia walked out smiling, bouquet in hand. The morgue workers gave her a respectful nod, confused but glad. For the first time in years, she wanted to live \u2014 and to love.<\/p>\n Because Viktor had just asked her to be his wife.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"