Anna nodded and opened the door. They went inside, and Anna turned on the light. The smell of fresh paint, of construction dust.
— It’s nice here, — Irina looked around. — I heard you’re opening a free center.
— Yes.
Irina faltered.
— I came to apologize.
Anna turned around.
— For what?
— For everything.
— For that machine?
— For blaming you.
— For stepping on my hand on purpose?
The words hung in the air. Irina lowered her head.
— I was fired from “Midlife.” A month after you. The other orderlies told Kovalev the truth. That I constantly terrorized them, blamed them for my mistakes. Witnesses came forward about the machine too. I was fired without severance pay. I can’t find a job. My references are bad. The money is running out. And my husband left me, said he was tired of my personality.
Irina sobbed.
— I’m all alone. And I realized it’s my own fault. All of it.
Anna was silent. Pity and anger warred within her.
— Why did you do it? — she asked quietly. — Why did you set me up?
— I was jealous, — Irina wiped her tears. — You were young, kind, everyone liked you. Patients smiled at you, colleagues helped you. They were afraid of me, but they didn’t respect me. And I was angry. I thought if I humiliated you, I would feel better. But it only got worse.
She looked up, meeting Anna’s eyes.
— Forgive me. Please. I’m not asking for a job or money. Just forgive me. I can’t live with this burden.
Anna looked at her for a long time. This woman had taken her job, her money, and had ruined Katya’s chance for surgery. Could she forgive something like that?
— I forgive you, — Anna said slowly. — Not because you deserve it. But because anger only destroys the one who carries it. I don’t want to carry this inside me.
Irina broke down crying. She sank into a chair, covering her face with her hands. Anna stood beside her, placing a hand on her shoulder.
— Go home, Irina Sergeevna. And try to be a better person. It’s not too late.
The nurse left, and Anna remained in the empty center. She sat on the windowsill, looking out into the darkness. Forgiving had been easier than she thought. And lighter.
Two weeks later, the center was ready to open. Dmitry organized a small event, inviting journalists, city administration representatives, and doctors. A sign was hung on the facade: “The Elena Petrova Medical Center.”
Anna stood in front of the entrance, holding Katya’s hand. The girl had recently had surgery—Dmitry had arranged it with a surgeon from his own clinic and paid for everything himself. Katya could already walk without pain and would soon begin rehabilitation.
— Auntie Anya, did you do all this? — the girl asked with admiration.
— We all did it together, — Anna smiled.
Dmitry stepped forward and took the microphone.
— Friends, — he began, — today is a special day. We are opening a center that will help children from low-income families receive quality free medical care. This center is named in honor of a woman who dedicated her life to helping children—Elena Petrovna Petrova. And her work is being continued by her daughter, Anna Mikhailovna, who will be the director of the center.
Applause. Anna stepped forward, her legs trembling.
— I’m not good at speeches, — she began, her voice shaking. — I just want to say thank you.
They cut the red ribbon. The doors of the center opened. Inside, the first patients were already waiting—dozens of families with sick children who had signed up in advance. Anna walked inside and looked around. Clean, bright hallways, new equipment, doctors in white coats. And most importantly—people who needed help. Her dream had become a reality.
Katya tugged at her hand.
— Auntie Anya, when I get all better, I’ll work here too.
— Of course, sunshine, — Anna lifted her niece into her arms. — You’ll continue our family tradition.
Dmitry came up beside them.
— Well, director, ready for work?
— Ready, — Anna smiled.
And it was the truth. Ahead lay difficulties, problems, sleepless nights. But she was ready. Because she had found her place. Her calling. And she was continuing her mother’s work—saving lives. One at a time. One story at a time.
Three months had passed since the center’s opening. Every morning, Anna arrived at eight o’clock, when the building was still empty and quiet. She would turn on the lights in the offices, check the day’s schedule, and make coffee. By nine, the doctors, nurses, and first patients would start to arrive.
During this time, more than two hundred children had passed through the center. Some came for one-time consultations, others were treated for weeks. Anna knew many of them by name, remembered their stories. The boy Sasha with asthma, for whom they found the right medication. The girl Masha with a congenital heart defect, who was being prepared for surgery. The twins Danya and Dima, who received free orthodontic treatment. Every life saved, every child cured was a personal victory for Anna. She saw the gratitude in the eyes of mothers who brought homemade pastries or simply cried with happiness. This was the kind of work worth getting up for in the mornings.
Dmitry dropped by several times a week. They discussed financial issues, development plans, and problems. He always found solutions, helped break through bureaucratic barriers, and connected them with the right people. Gradually, a warm, trusting relationship developed between them. Anna no longer saw him as a benefactor or sponsor. Dmitry had become a friend, someone she could rely on.
Katya was also often at the center. After the surgery, the girl was recovering quickly, already able to run and jump. She helped at the reception desk, sorted patient files, and played with the younger children in the playroom.
— Auntie Anya, is it true that when I grow up, I’ll be a doctor?
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