— I don’t know. Maybe nothing terrible. Maybe everything would have been fine. But most likely, Viktor would have died from his illness without ever knowing about it. Igor and Viktor would have remained enemies. Masha would have grown up without a father. Victoria would have lived in ignorance. Everything would have been different.
— But you listened. And you changed their lives.
— Yes. And my own too. Because that story taught me to believe in the unbelievable. And then I met you, and that was my greatest miracle.
Elena hugged him, and they stood like that in silence, enjoying the quiet and each other’s closeness.
And somewhere in the same city, in her own home, Zara was putting Masha and Daniil to bed and thinking about how strangely fate had arranged things. One meeting, one night ten years ago, had changed the lives of so many people. And all for the better. She smiled, kissed her children on the forehead, and went out to her husband, who was waiting for her in the kitchen with tea.
— You were lost in thought, — Denis remarked.
— Yes. I was remembering an old story.
— Which one?
— About how I saved the life of a man I didn’t even know. And how that led to me meeting you.
Denis hugged her:
— Then that was the best story of your life.
— Not just mine. In the lives of many people.
They finished their tea, turned off the light, and went to bed. And the city continued to live its life, with its joys and sorrows, meetings and partings, miracles and routines. And somewhere in this city, in different parts, people connected by one story were sleeping: Pavel and Elena, Igor and Victoria, Viktor and Natasha, Zara and Denis. And the children: Masha, Artem, Sofia, Maria, Viktor Jr., Daniil. They were all part of one big, complex, but beautiful story of forgiveness, love, and miracles. A story that began when a Gypsy woman with an infant in her arms stopped a doctor and whispered to him: “Check the rich man’s tests again before the anesthesia.” And he did. And everything changed.
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