Pavel had probably flipped through the family photo album for the hundredth time. In one picture, he was captured with his classmates at a picnic; in another, he was holding a diploma with a wide, beaming smile; and in the next shot, Ira stands next to him, who, a few pages later, becomes his wife.The young surgeon stared for a long time into the face of his late wife, then quietly said:

– It all started so beautifully… We dreamed of a little house outside the city, surrounded by forest and a river. And now? We were granted only four years of happiness.

Pavel didn’t like discussing this with colleagues, especially not with Boris, who had been in love with Ira since the first year at medical college.

– It’s all your fault! – Boris snapped at him with reproach. – Why did you let her take the wheel? You knew she had just gotten her license; what experience did she have? No wonder she couldn’t handle the turn.

– Do you think I killed Ira? Or that I got that daredevil drunk, who then drove into oncoming traffic? Don’t lay all the blame on me. Every day, I see her face before me. A year has passed, yet it feels like it was just yesterday, – Pavel retorted.

Boris frowned in discontent but chose not to continue the conversation. Deep down, he didn’t truly hold Pavel responsible. Still, from time to time he would tease him, making Pavel the scapegoat. Although, in truth, it was unnecessary: not a day went by without Pavel reproaching himself for what had happened.

In the end, tired of living with his memories, the young surgeon decided to completely break with the past.

“First, I need to get rid of her things. What’s the point of keeping them? I certainly won’t use them. But they might be useful to someone in need,” Pavel thought as he looked around.

At that hour, there were few passers-by on the street, but not far away a group of homeless people had gathered by a dumpster. Pavel approached one of them and said:– Hey, what’s your name? Come here, please. I have a proposition for you.

The homeless man looked cautiously at the bag in Pavel’s hands, then asked:

– What’s the deal? Nothing illegal? I don’t get involved with criminal stuff. There was a time when someone asked me to ruin a competitor’s car with a marker, and then the guys nearly killed me.

– No, it’s just belongings, clothes. I don’t feel like throwing them away when they might be needed by someone, – explained Pavel.

The homeless man’s eyes lit up with greedy interest:

– What kind of things? I see you have my size. I could really use clothes like that, especially shoes. You know, you’ve got to feed your feet.

Pavel smiled awkwardly and hurried to clear up the misunderstanding:

– No, these are women’s clothes, my late wife’s. She died a year ago. I thought maybe someone might need her things.

The homeless man waved his hand dismissively, but still took the bag:

– It’ll find its use. I’m sure I’ll figure out a place for it. Thanks, kind man. Though I wouldn’t mind a pair of shoes – would you mind checking your closet?

– Alright, if I find something, I’ll definitely bring it over, – Pavel replied and headed home.

Today promised to be a busy day. The head of the surgical department was celebrating his anniversary, and he had invited everyone to a restaurant at four o’clock.

– I accept no objections. Today, everyone who can hold a shot glass, whether a drinker or a teetotaler, must be here, – announced Arkady Sergeyevich shortly before the end of the shift.

Pavel had no desire to attend the event, but he knew that refusing the head would only hurt himself.

“Don’t sulk, Pashka. Remember, Arkady can help your career. He’s well-connected with the right people,” Boris whispered before leaving.

“Yeah, I know… But what kind of career is it when my soul is empty,” Pavel replied. Despite his doubts, he still went to the restaurant.

For Arkady Sergeyevich’s anniversary celebration, a banquet hall had been rented, where, to the sounds of live music, waiters in elegant suits hurried about.

“What would you like? Cognac, wine, or maybe some champagne?” one of them asked Pavel with genuine interest.

“No, thank you. I’ll take a look around first,” Pavel replied as he entered the hall and took a free table.

He tried to keep away from Boris’s company, who was chattering non-stop. After a few obligatory toasts, the guests grew lively and, warmed by alcohol, demanded music. Arkady Sergeyevich signaled to someone behind a screen. Soon, a young woman in a fashionable coral dress appeared on stage. Taking the microphone, she began to sing a melancholic song that made many of the guests’ hearts contract.

“Oh, how soulful! Listen, she sings like a nightingale, and her voice is pure honey,” the celebrant exclaimed in admiration.

Even though the celebration was in full swing, Arkady Sergeyevich had already managed to down a good amount of cognac, and Boris, who was also well-drunk, was nearly asleep at the table. At that moment, Pavel’s gaze shifted to the stage and froze.

– No, this can’t be! Who is that – my Ira?

The surgeon couldn’t believe his eyes. The woman on stage was dressed in the very dress of his late wife, the one he had given away to the homeless that morning. Moreover, she strikingly resembled Ira.

“Lord, let her be my Ira,” Pavel prayed silently.

Of course, he knew it was impossible – he had seen his beloved in the coffin with his own eyes. But his weary heart craved a miracle. The resemblance was so strong that Pavel found it hard to breathe.

But before he could approach closer, the woman swayed, clutched her head, and collapsed onto her side.

– Doctor, someone get a doctor! She’s not well! – someone among the musicians cried out.

Being the closest, Pavel was the first to rush over.

– Where does it hurt? Don’t worry, I’m a doctor. I’m a surgeon, but I can help, – he addressed her.

The woman opened her eyes and whispered softly:

– It’s okay, just a faint. This happens to me sometimes.

Only then did Pavel notice her unnaturally pale face, which might indicate some ailment. The differences between her and Ira were evident, but from a distance, she looked almost exactly like his wife. The dress, which had mysteriously ended up on the singer, played a key role in this astonishing illusion.

– How are you? Can you walk? Maybe I should call you a taxi? – Pavel asked, helping her to her feet. Still puzzled by the fainting, he assumed it was due to pre-performance nerves.

– Yes, I’m fine, I’ll manage. But I need to leave, or else the administrator won’t pay me for my work, – she replied quietly.

– Now isn’t the time to worry about money, but your health and recovery, – Pavel remarked calmly.

At that moment, the administrator approached them:

– Why are you speaking to her like that? Her nerves seem to have given out?

– And who’s to stop me? – Pavel shot back.

– Do you even know who Nadyezhda is? She’s a homeless woman; she used to sing for peanuts in street corners. I noticed her, tidied her up a bit, and started booking her for performances. Her voice is magnificent, that can’t be taken away, – the administrator praised, clearly justifying his behavior.

Nadyezhda looked at Pavel in fear and lowered her eyes. It seemed the administrator was telling the truth; Pavel realized it from her silent reaction.

– Enough, that’s it. We don’t need the money. We’re leaving. With that attitude, you’d be better off singing yourself! – Pavel said decisively, taking Nadyezhda by the hand and leading her to the exit.

Their departure provoked outraged shouts from the celebrant, who didn’t like that the guests were leaving early.

– Go! But remember: if you come back, the fee for the performance will be cut in half, – the administrator rudely called after them.

In truth, the administrator hadn’t suffered any losses today, but had even saved money on that “foolish” Nadya. The guests were already quite drunk, and live music could easily be replaced by recordings.

– Where should I take you, Nadyezhda? Which neighborhood do you live in? I don’t have a car, but we can call a taxi. Let’s step outside, – Pavel suggested.

Nadya timidly looked up at him:

– I have nowhere to go. I live in a shack, thanks to my late husband. And I also have a five-year-old son. Since birth, his right hand has been weak, his fingers almost fused together, he can’t fully open them. I’ve been saving up for his surgery. I used to work as a nurse.

Pavel perked up and, without noticing, switched to using “you” informally:

– You were a nurse? And you must have gotten caught up in some unpleasant situation? Maybe something with medications or something else? Don’t think I’m judging – these things happen in life.

Nadyezhda’s face flushed with embarrassment:

– What kind of shenanigans? No, my personal items disappeared – phone, wallet, money… And they all pinned it on me. The head of the department had long been angry with me. I had to leave in a scandal. But before that, I took the newborn boy. His mother abandoned him when she saw his hand. She was in shock; it was an impulsive act, not out of malice. And so I became a single mother.

Nadyezhda’s revelation deeply moved Pavel.

– But couldn’t you have tried to get a job elsewhere? Perhaps at a dental clinic or in an ambulance service. Good nurses are always in short supply. And the work at that restaurant is nothing but problems, – Pavel inquired.

– Of course, I could have. But the head of the department essentially gave me the boot. You know what that means? Now, no one will hire me in my specialty. And once, I even accidentally burned down a house while drunk. I was left alone with Kirusha in my arms. I found a place myself – an abandoned house I fixed up. Homeless people help me out; I’m like a street doctor to them. This morning, a whole bag of women’s clothes was brought in, very nice, almost new, – Nadyezhda explained.

When Nadya mentioned the clothes, Pavel remembered everything. Now he understood why he had mistaken her for his late wife. The culprit was that very coral dress.

– You know, you look so much like my late wife – from ten meters away, you were like a replica, – confessed Pavel. – She was a beauty too.

Nadya blushed, though her eyes showed that the compliment pleased her.

Instead of calling a taxi, Pavel offered Nadya a bite to eat:

– There’s a decent snack bar just around the corner. At this rate, you’ll faint from hunger again. If you want, we can bring Kiril too. They have great pastries and ice cream there.

Pavel’s proposal brought genuine joy to Nadya. Her son, Kirusha, had never been to a café before, and he only ate ice cream on big celebrations.

– That’s great. Let’s go get your son, then, – said Pavel.

Before long, the three of them were sitting together in a cozy café. About three years ago, Pavel had saved the owner of the establishment after a bout of peritonitis, and the owner now felt it was his duty to treat the doctor for free, although Pavel didn’t mind paying. Noticing that Kirusha was eating with his left hand, Pavel frowned. The boy’s right hand was twisted, and he couldn’t use it fully.

– I’ll find out what can be done. If nothing works, we’ll try to manage on our own, – Pavel remarked, catching the concern in Nadya’s eyes.

– It would be wonderful if my hand could be fixed. Otherwise, they tease me at kindergarten, calling me “Iron Man,” – Kirusha said.

– We’ll fix it, commander, – replied Pavel, glancing at his watch. – It’s too late to wander the city now. How about coming to my place?

– I don’t mind, – Nadya agreed.

Pavel’s home immediately impressed the guests. It was spacious and cozy. The only thing that immediately caught Nadya’s eye was the lack of feminine touches and cozy details. Approaching one of the walls, she noticed a photograph in a black frame.

– This is my wife. She died in an accident a year ago. We were married for only four years, – Pavel explained.

Nadya’s eyes suddenly filled with tears.

– Are you feeling unwell again? – the host asked with concern, adding with a note of regret: – I’m such a fool, I should have called a taxi right away instead of walking.

Nadya couldn’t take her eyes off the photograph:

– That’s his biological mother… Kirusha’s…

– Who? Ira? Why didn’t she tell me about the child? Although, at that time, we weren’t even acquainted. Did she really leave her son in the maternity ward? – Pavel was utterly confused.

– Don’t forget, she was in deep depression. Her fiancé left her, and then there was the child with a birth defect… Anyone would lose their nerves, – Nadya answered, a little calming him down.

Fortunately, Kirusha couldn’t hear their conversation, as he was engrossed in exploring the neighboring room in search of toys. Pavel was in a daze for a long time, and he and Nadya sat in the kitchen late into the night, discussing what had happened. Together, they concluded that Ira hadn’t acted out of malice, but because of her emotional turmoil. Moreover, life had already punished her for that deed.

Although Kirusha wasn’t Pavel’s biological son, the boy’s fate had become truly important to him.

– Don’t worry, you can stay with me as long as you need. And if you decide to stay forever, I’d be delighted. Kirusha needs a father figure, – Pavel offered.

– Thank you, – Nadya replied quietly.

Six months passed, and Pavel’s home turned into a lively little haven filled with guests waiting for Kirusha’s return from the hospital. He underwent corrective surgery on his right hand. While the boy was receiving treatment, Pavel and Nadya prepared a surprise for him – they renovated his room, making it the latest in design trends.

But the main surprise was that they decided to formalize their relationship. By a happy coincidence, the registration day fell on the day Kirusha was discharged from the hospital.

Upon leaving the clinic, Kirusha was greeted by an atmosphere of joy and celebration. When it was time to congratulate his parents, he smiled and asked:

– A little brother or sister, or better yet, both at once!

Now, Kirusha’s right hand was no different from his left, and he could applaud his parents as much as he liked.