Vera slowed down, even though a voice in her head was shouting: don’t stop. A man was lying by the side of the road.
He wasn’t sitting, he wasn’t standing — he was curled up, lying right next to the asphalt. The snowstorm was beating against the windshield, the wipers couldn’t keep up. Vera got out of the car and took out her flashlight.
The man had no hat, his jacket was torn, his face smeared with mud. His eyes were open, but empty. Vera crouched down, holding her side — her belly wouldn’t let her bend properly.
— Hey, can you hear me?
The man blinked. His lips moved, but no sound came out. Vera touched his hand — it was icy cold.
— Get up. I’ll take you.
He didn’t answer. Somehow, with her last strength, Vera grabbed him by the arms, shoved him into the back seat, and covered him with her own coat. An unpleasant, чуж smell spread through the car. Vera grimaced and started the engine.
In the emergency department, the doctor on duty looked at them as if they were a problem.
— No documents?
— No. He was lying on the highway.
— Do you know his name?
Vera shook her head.
— All right, we’ll register him as an unidentified person. You can go.
Vera pulled crumpled bills out of her pocket — her last money until payday, four days still to go — and put them on the desk.
— Do some tests on him. At least something.
The doctor looked at her belly, then at the money.
— You should be resting yourself. How far along are you?
— Seven months.
The doctor sighed and took the money.
— Take him to a ward.
Vera wrote her name and phone number on a piece of paper and handed it to the nurse.
— Call me if anything happens.
The nurse nodded, but her look was skeptical.
In the morning, Vera came back. The ward was empty. The bed was made, the window slightly open.
— He left during the night, — the nurse said without looking up from her newspaper. — Didn’t even say thank you.
Vera nodded and went out. Something tightened inside her, but not from hurt. From exhaustion. She had spent her last money, eaten only bread and cheap pasta for three days, dragged that man around — and he hadn’t even said goodbye.
The old taxi driver, Stepan, snorted when he saw her face at the taxi depot.
— What is it, Vera, saved someone again?
Vera poured herself water from the cooler.
— Everything’s fine.
— You’re the one who needs help. Getting behind the wheel with a belly like that…
Vera turned around sharply.
— Stepan, I know. But I need money. When the baby is born — what will I live on? A dormitory? Benefits?
Stepan fell silent. Vera went out. Her shift lasted until morning.
The month passed heavily. Her belly pressed against her ribs, her legs ached by evening. Vera drove passengers and counted the days until childbirth. She tried not to think about Oleg.
He sent only one message when he found out about the pregnancy: “I’m not ready. Sorry.” He changed his number. Vera didn’t look for him. Why would she?
On Saturday, the dispatcher let her go early. Vera went up to her dorm room on the third floor, kicked off her shoes, and sat down on the bed. She was so tired she didn’t even feel like undressing.
A pebble tapped against the window. Vera flinched and went over. Down below stood a black car with tinted windows. The door opened. A man in a long coat got out. Vera didn’t recognize him right away.
It was the same man. From the highway.
Vera went downstairs. She stood in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe. The man looked completely different — clean, expensive clothes, confident posture, shaved face.
— Is it you?
The man nodded.
— Pavel. I’ve been looking for you for a long time.
Vera crossed her arms.
— Why?
Pavel stepped closer.
— You saved my life. I had an accident on the road, hit my head. I lost my memory. I left without knowing who I was. If you hadn’t stopped, I would’ve died within an hour.
Vera was silent. Pavel continued.
— My people found me in the hospital that same night. They took me to a clinic. Two weeks later my memory returned. I immediately started looking for the woman who brought me in. The nurse gave me your number.
Vera drew herself in — she was cold without a coat.
— Fine, you found me. Now what?
Pavel took an envelope out of his pocket.
— Take it.
Vera didn’t move.
— I don’t need your money. That’s not why I picked you up.
— There’s no money in it.
He held out the envelope more insistently. Vera took it and opened it. Keys. Documents. She skimmed them quickly. A deed of gift. An address in the city center. A three-room apartment.
— Is this a joke?
— No.
— Are you serious?
Pavel nodded.
— The paperwork is done. Registered. Just move in.
Vera clenched the envelope.
— Why are you doing this?
Pavel looked her straight in the eyes.
— Because most people would’ve driven past. You stopped. Pregnant, alone, at night, in a snowstorm. You gave your last money for a stranger. Your child will be born soon. He needs a home. A real home.
He turned toward the car. Vera called after him.
— Wait! I can’t just accept an apartment like this. It’s too much.
Pavel turned back.
— Then think of it as me paying my debt. You gave me my life back. Now I’m giving you a future.
He left. Vera stood there holding the envelope.
A week later, Vera moved. The apartment was bright, with large windows and fresh renovation. There wasn’t much furniture, but it didn’t matter. It was warm, clean, and no one banged on the walls at night.
Stepan helped with the move. He walked through the rooms, shaking his head.
— That’s some luck, Vera. You picked up a drifter and it turned out he was rich.
— He’s not rich. Just… grateful.
Stepan smiled.
— The main thing is, don’t work as a taxi driver anymore. It’s time to rest before giving birth.
Vera nodded. Her belly already made walking difficult, her legs were swollen. One more month — and the baby would be born.
The birth was hard, but fast. A girl. Healthy, crying loudly. Vera named her Polina. Stepan came to the hospital with flowers, awkwardly shifting at the door.
— Congratulations, mom.
Vera smiled and took Polina in her arms. The baby squeezed her eyes shut and sniffled. So small, so warm. Vera pressed her to herself and understood — everything was right.
Oleg showed up half a year later. He simply came — without calling, without warning. Vera opened the door. Oleg stood there with a bag, confused and worn down.
— Hi.
Vera didn’t answer. Polina was sleeping in the stroller behind her.
— Can I come in?
— No.
Oleg tried to look into the apartment. Vera saw how he was assessing it — the renovation, the high ceilings, the light walls.
— I heard… is it true some guy gave you an apartment?
Vera crossed her arms.
— What’s it to you?
Oleg held out the bag.
— I brought toys. For my daughter.
Vera didn’t take it.
— Why did you come, Oleg?
Oleg scratched the back of his neck.
— I was thinking… maybe we could try again. I got scared back then, confused. Now I see I was an idiot.
Vera laughed.
— After you found out about the apartment?
Oleg blushed.
— What does the apartment have to do with it? I’m thinking about the child. About family.
— Family? Seriously?
Vera stepped closer. Oleg stepped back.
— When things were at their worst, you ran away. You didn’t call, didn’t ask if I was alive. You didn’t send a single cent. And now you came because you thought: if she has an apartment, maybe not everything is lost?
Oleg tried to object.
— I wasn’t ready then…
— Shut up.
He fell silent. Vera continued, her voice quieter but harder.
— My daughter doesn’t know you. And she won’t. There’s a blank line in the birth certificate. And it will stay that way. I don’t need your money. I don’t need your help. I don’t need you.
Oleg clenched the bag.
— You’ll regret this. A child needs a father.
Vera smiled coldly.
— A father is someone who’s there. You’re just a scared man who showed up when everything was already done.
She closed the door. Oleg stood there for a while, then punched the doorframe and left. Vera leaned against the door and exhaled. Her hands were shaking, but inside, everything was in its place.
Polina woke up and started crying. Vera picked her up.
— Shh, my little one. Everything’s okay.
Pavel came by sometimes — once a month, maybe less. He brought something for Polina, drank water in the kitchen. He didn’t talk much. Vera didn’t ask questions. She felt calm around him.
Once, Polina crawled over to him and grabbed his shoelace. Pavel bent down and offered his finger. The baby gripped it and smiled.
— Stubborn, — Pavel said.
— Like me.
Pavel smiled.
— That’s good.
He stood up, getting ready to leave. At the door, he turned back.
— Vera, if you need anything — call me. Doctors, paperwork, anything.
Vera nodded.
— Thank you.
Pavel left. Vera locked the door, went back to Polina, and sat down beside her on the floor. The baby crawled over and pressed her head against Vera’s knees. Vera stroked her little head.
Outside, the city lights were glowing. Inside the apartment, it was warm. Polina fell asleep. Vera closed her eyes. Back then, on the highway, she wasn’t expecting a miracle. She simply couldn’t drive past. And the miracle came on its own.
