Valentin parked his car in the only available spot near the children’s hospital. It had become a routine—taking care of business, grabbing coffee at his usual café, then rushing to the hospital to see his daughter.
Every moment he could spend with her was precious. She had been hospitalized for months.
Doctors couldn’t quite explain her condition. Valentin had consulted the best specialists, but their answers were vague. “The brain’s in control,” they’d say. “It’s stress-related. The brain sets up protective blocks. We can’t interfere.”
One doctor put it bluntly: “We can’t do much. Maybe something extraordinary has to happen… or nothing at all. The body needs to reset.”
Valentin buried his face in his hands. His wife had passed, and now his daughter, Michelle, was slipping away. He had to be strong—for her.
Michelle accepted the long hospital stay without protest. Valentin couldn’t decide whether to feel proud or heartbroken—his eight-year-old sounded far too grown-up.
Valentine still sat quite in his car. Suddenly, a loud shout outside broke his thoughts. A girl sprinted toward the hospital, chased by a puffing security guard.
“She stole something!” the guard yelled.
“What did she steal?” Valentin asked, amused.
“A bottle of water and a bun… Maybe more.”
Valentin handed over some cash. “This should cover it—and a little extra.”
He watched the guard walk off, then forced a smile before entering Michelle’s room. He always tried to look cheerful, though the effort was obvious. Michelle had barely been eating, not by choice—her body simply rejected food.
She turned toward him when the door creaked open. At first, there was confusion in her eyes, then a smile. But something felt off. It was as if she wanted him gone.
He pulled up a chair and opened a bag. “Look, I brought apples!”
“Thanks, Dad,” Michelle said quietly.
Valentin froze. The lunch tray was already empty.
“Michelle, what’s going on?”
She looked to the side. “Come out. Don’t be scared. He’s kind.”
From behind the curtain emerged the same girl who had run past his car. Michelle pleaded:
“Don’t send her away, Dad! I’ll share my apple. She has no one… and it’s cold… and she was scared…”
Valentin studied the girl—maybe a little older than Michelle.
“Are you Katya?”
She nodded.
“I’m Valentin, Michelle’s father.”
Katya asked shyly, “Are you really Michelle? That’s a pretty name.”
Michelle smiled softly. “No… My name’s Masha. But Mom used to call me Michelle. I liked it.”
Katya nodded. “My mom’s gone too. But I don’t remember her—it’s been so long.”
The two girls had already connected. Katya perched carefully on the edge of the bed, trying not to soil the sheets.
Valentin sliced up the apple and handed it to them.
“I see you two have plenty to talk about.”
“Dad,” Michelle said seriously, “can she stay? She can sleep on the couch. Just for tonight.”
Valentin hesitated. Then he relented.
“In the closet, you’ll find some clean clothes. Shower first. And come out looking human. I’ll tell the staff Michelle’s sister is staying. But don’t push your luck.”
Katya’s eyes lit up. She picked out a clean outfit and disappeared into the bathroom.
Once alone, Valentin turned to Michelle. “Are you sure about this?”
“Of course! And could you ask them to bring us hot tea?”
Surprised but pleased, Valentin nodded. He paid extra to keep Katya in the VIP ward. Something had shifted in Michelle. He wasn’t sure if it was good or bad, but he noticed it.
That night, he barely slept.
The next day, he peeked into Michelle’s room. The girls were engrossed in a cartoon, giggling together. Michelle looked alert, present—alive. He hadn’t seen that spark in a long time.
He walked over and hugged them both.
Katya sniffled.
“Did I hurt you?” he asked, concerned.
She shook her head. Michelle frowned. “Don’t hurt her again, Dad!”
He quickly reassured her.
Katya whispered, “I’m not crying because of that… It’s just, no one’s hugged me like that in a long time.”
A week later, Michelle was discharged. She was running, laughing, talking—thriving. The doctors were baffled.
In the meantime, Valentin had looked into Katya’s story. Her mother had vanished when she was two, likely dead. She’d lived with her grandmother until she passed away. The orphanage she ended up in had been unkind. After a caregiver hit her, Katya ran.
When the day came to take Michelle home, Katya packed up quietly and hugged her goodbye.
“Thank you… I’ll go now.”
Valentin looked at her. “Go where?”
“Back to the orphanage, I guess… It’s cold.”
Valentin smiled gently. “So I prepared that room beside Michelle for nothing? You don’t want to be her sister?”
Michelle squealed with joy and hugged her father. Katya, tearful, joined them.
As they left the hospital, the nurses watched, tearful. Valentin exchanged a glance with one of them—Alla—grateful and full of hope.
Six months later, life without Katya was unthinkable. Just as Michelle and Katya couldn’t imagine life without each other.