Mom, are you working the night shift again tonight?” Katya asked, her eyes searching her mother’s face for a hopeful answer.

Marina smiled gently, brushing her daughter’s hand with affection. “Yes, sweetheart. You and Yura will be good while I’m gone, won’t you?”

“Of course, Mom. But you never get any rest,” Katya replied, concern lingering in her voice. “You really need to take care of yourself.”

Marina forced a light smile. “I have to work, dear. It’s the only way we can keep things going. Don’t you want to shine at your graduation?”

Katya sighed deeply. “I just wish you were home more.”

Marina closed her eyes briefly, weariness weighing on her. “Soon, Katya. Only one more year until we finally clear this loan.”

Her thoughts drifted back. Once, life had been simpler: a stable family, a devoted husband, two children. But everything changed when her husband decided to start his own business. She supported him as best she could, but the loan had to be taken out in her name.

That was just the beginning of her troubles. Her husband later confessed he’d fallen in love with someone else but promised to help with the payments. Marina hadn’t yet healed from that betrayal when tragedy struck—he died in a car accident.

Left alone with two children and a crushing debt, Marina stood at his grave wondering how she would survive. Work drained her, and money was barely enough for necessities. Sometimes, despair crept in—the debt seemed insurmountable. All she had left was her share of their apartment.

Five difficult years passed. Marina endured, and now, with just a year left on the loan, hope dared to bloom. Every cent of income went to the debt—child support, part of her salary. They lived simply, with Katya helping care for her little brother, Yura.

“Alright, Katya, I have to leave for work now,” Marina said, kissing her daughter’s forehead. “Help Yura with his homework, and make sure he’s home by nine. What would I do without you?”

The hospital where Marina worked was across town—requiring multiple transfers and over an hour of travel. She thought about switching to a closer job but felt attached to the place after so many years.

“Good evening, Marina Nikolaevna,” a calm voice greeted her.

Sergey Andreyevich, a recently returned doctor who had come out of retirement, smiled warmly. Polite and considerate, he was only a few years older and clearly interested in her. Rumors circulated quietly among the staff, but nothing was said openly.

“Hello, Sergey Andreyevich,” Marina replied, moving quickly to avoid prying eyes.

Later, in the staff lounge, colleagues offered tea.

“Join us, Marina Nikolaevna. How’s the night so far?”

“Quiet—for now. The calm before the storm,” she said.

Her shift began with routine cases—an appendicitis patient, a hand injury. Outside, the weather was clear, and she sat briefly on a bench in the hospital yard to rest.

Sergey appeared beside her. “Marina, how about a movie? It’s casual, less formal than dinner or theater. We don’t know each other well yet, but you can’t say no.”

Marina laughed softly. “Are you reading my mind?”

“Every time I see you, you try to disappear,” he said with a grin. “It’s obvious. We’re adults, single. There’s something here.”

She sighed. “I’m rusty at this kind of talk.”

“Life goes on,” he encouraged.

“Okay, I’ll go. But I have hardly any free time.”

“I’ve noticed,” Sergey said. “But you don’t have a choice?”

“My husband left me with bad memories and a mountain of debt,” Marina admitted.

Sergey nodded in understanding. “I’m here if you want to talk.”

Something inside Marina gave way, and she told him everything—the loans, the loneliness, the burden.

“That’s why you hesitate inviting someone like me out,” she concluded.

“Nonsense. There’s always hope,” he said with confidence.

She thought of her estranged best friend, lost after the wedding when she learned her friend loved her husband too.

“Have you made peace with her?” Sergey asked.

“No idea where she is,” Marina said.

Suddenly, a nurse hurried over.

“Marina Nikolaevna, emergency in OR!”

In the operating room, Marina prepared for surgery without looking at the patient—until she recognized Kostya, the husband she thought dead.

He looked at her with fear and turned away. Her heart broke.

“Impossible,” she thought. “But it’s him.”

She worked swiftly, fighting for his life. Afterward, questions swirled. How could such a grave error happen?

In the hallway, Marina met Lena—her old friend turned adversary.

“Did you operate on Kostya?” Lena asked, eyes wide.

“I want answers,” Marina said firmly.

Sergey appeared. “Can I stay? You might need support.”

Lena nodded, and they retreated to a quiet room.

Lena confessed she’d reunited with Kostya years ago. They’d taken a loan to start a business, failed, and fled, leaving debts behind.

Marina’s anger boiled. “You want me homeless after all I sacrificed?”

Sergey urged involving the police—for Marina’s sake and Kostya’s.

Lena pleaded, but Marina refused to show mercy. “He left me with ruin and grief. Now, justice.”

Sergey called authorities, asking Lena to wait.

Marina returned to her children, weary but determined.

Katya listened quietly to the truth. “While we paid off his debts, he lived another life? Mom, can I believe Dad really died?”

Marina shrugged. “He died twice for me.”

Months later, Marina bustled as her kids returned from school.

“Are you getting married?” Katya asked curiously.

Marina blushed. “I want you to meet someone—Sergey.”

The children hugged her in excitement.

A month later, they had a simple wedding. Sergey and Yura grew close, and Marina found peace.

Though Kostya faced charges and the loan remained in Marina’s name, Sergey helped pay it off.

“Now,” Sergey said, “we start fresh.”

Marina smiled, hopeful. “We’re alive. We’ll make it work.