In an emergency room, all distinctions—rich or poor, kind or cruel, educated or not—fade away. Patients are simply people fighting for their lives. Yet even here, some manage to secure privileges.
Lev Alexandrovich Bessonov was one such person. His private hospital room was outfitted with every comfort imaginable: a personal bathroom, a refrigerator, an electric kettle, a television. The nurses assigned to him were attentive, ensuring he lacked nothing. But none of this brought him joy. He knew his time was running out, and the relentless march of his illness left him with little hope.
What haunted Lev Alexandrovich most was not his own mortality but the thought of his wealth falling into the hands of strangers. A physicist by training and a self-made man, he had amassed a fortune through years of hard work. With no direct heirs, he planned to divide his estate between a local orphanage, distant relatives, and his trusted household staff. His wife had passed away three years earlier, unable to recover from the greatest tragedy of their lives—the disappearance of their only daughter, Yulia.
More than two decades ago, Yulia vanished during a family trip. Exhausted after a weekend at their country house, Lev and his wife had dozed off on the train ride home. When they awoke, Yulia was gone. Despite frantic searches and police efforts, she was never found. The loss shattered their family. Lev buried himself in work, while his wife, Lena, withdrew from life entirely. Her health deteriorated, and she succumbed to grief, leaving Lev to navigate the empty years alone.
His wealth grew, but it brought no comfort. After suffering two heart attacks, Lev realized that all he had accumulated meant little without someone to share it with. As he lay in his hospital bed, he spent his days in melancholy reflection, haunted by the void in his life.
One evening, Lev dreamed of his late wife. She stood in a field of flowers, calling him to join her. At the edge of the field, a child appeared—his Yulia, reaching out her hands. He felt the warmth of her small palm as he bent to take it. Startled awake, he found the room dimly lit and a little girl standing beside his bed, her tiny hand clutching his.
“Yulia?” he whispered, his voice trembling.
The child shook her head. “No, I’m Lena,” she replied softly. “I got lost looking for my mom.”
Gathering his strength, Lev sat up and studied the girl. She had bright eyes and a delicate face, strikingly similar to his daughter’s. “Lenochka,” he murmured, “how did you get here?”
The girl explained she had woken up in another part of the hospital and wandered off with her markers, searching for her mother. Lev noticed her slight limp as she moved. “Why do you limp, my dear?” he asked gently.
“The doctor said it’s because I didn’t get a vaccine when I was little,” Lena replied matter-of-factly.
Anguish filled Lev’s heart as the girl’s innocence brought back memories of his own lost child. Hoping to lift her spirits, he asked, “Would you draw something for me?”
Lena beamed, producing a sheet of paper and her markers. She began sketching her mother, a woman with golden hair and blue eyes. As she added details to the picture, Lev watched with a rare smile. When she finished and showed him the drawing, his heart stopped. Around the woman’s neck was a pendant he recognized immediately—a four-leaf clover crafted from onyx and silver.
His mind raced. Could it be? Was this child connected to his Yulia?
The nurse arrived to check on him and was startled to find Lena in the room. She quickly escorted the girl back to the pediatric ward, where her distraught mother was anxiously waiting. But Lev couldn’t let it go. The next morning, he instructed the nurse to find Lena’s mother and bring her to him.
When the woman entered his room, Lev’s breath caught. She was older than he had imagined but unmistakably bore a resemblance to his late wife. “May I see your pendant?” he asked softly. The woman hesitated before removing the necklace and handing it to him. Lev’s hands trembled as he examined it.
“It’s the same…” he whispered, overcome with emotion. “You’re Yulia.”
The woman, startled, replied, “I… my name is Anastasia now. But yes, I was once called Yulia. That was a long time ago.”
Tears filled Lev’s eyes as the pieces fell into place. He listened as she recounted her story—how she had followed strangers off the train, been taken in by people who claimed her parents had died, and eventually ended up in the hands of a religious sect. The sect’s harsh rules had shaped her life, denying her daughter, Lena, the medical care she needed. Recently, they had escaped, seeking refuge at the hospital.
Lev was overcome with sorrow and joy. “All these years, I thought I’d lost you forever,” he said. “But now I have you back.”
Lena approached her grandfather hesitantly, and he pulled her into his arms. “From now on, I’m Grandpa,” he said firmly, “and you’ll never feel lost again.”
Lev spared no expense in arranging the best medical care for Lena. Her limp, once thought untreatable, was corrected within months. Meanwhile, Anastasia began to rebuild her life, finally free from the shadows of her past. Together, they became a family, finding solace in each other’s presence.
Lev Alexandrovich, once resigned to his fate, now had a renewed sense of purpose. With his daughter and granddaughter by his side, he embraced life with a vigor he hadn’t felt in decades. The mansion that once echoed with silence now rang with laughter, and the garden bloomed once more—a testament to the power of love and second chances.