— What awful weather today! — grumbled Ivan, squinting through the dense white haze. — God forbid I get stuck halfway through this storm…

The furious blizzard whipped up snowflakes with relentless force, turning the street into a frozen tempest. Ivan hunched his shoulders, trying to shield his face from the sharp ice needles that stung his skin. After a long and tiring day at work, his energy was nearly spent, but the thought of a steaming cup of tea waiting in his small, warm apartment kept him moving forward through the heavy snowdrifts.

The glowing entrance of the building, like a lighthouse beacon in a sea of white, came into view just ahead when a faint, desperate moan stopped him in his tracks. The sound was as soft as the rustling of dry leaves in the cold wind, barely audible over the howling storm. Ivan strained his ears, peering closely at the swirling snow.

— Help… please… — the voice whispered, fading like an ice crystal melting in sunlight.

At first, Ivan thought it might be his imagination, a hallucination born from the biting cold and exhaustion, but a strong instinct told him it was real.

— Hey! Is someone there? — he shouted, muffling his voice with his scarf.

Only an echo answered at first, until the faint sound came again: — Here… very close…

He hurried toward the snowbank beside the building’s wall and made out a fragile figure half-buried beneath the thick snow. An elderly woman lay there, barely visible, her trembling hand adorned with a simple silver ring clutching the edge of the snow like a lifeline.

— Good heavens! — Ivan dropped to his knees, feeling the wetness seep through his jeans. — What happened? How did you end up here?

The woman’s eyes, cloudy and distant, looked up at him through a haze of frost. Her gray hair was dusted with sparkling ice, framing her face like a delicate, frozen veil.

— I fell… I think my leg is broken… — she gasped with pain. — People passed by… but no one noticed…

Ivan took off his thick jacket and wrapped it carefully around her shivering shoulders, feeling the chill bite into his own skin. Pulling out his phone with numb fingers, he dialed emergency services, all the while holding her with gentle, trembling hands.

— Hold on, the paramedics will be here soon, — he reassured her, rubbing warmth into her cold fingers. — I won’t leave you alone, I promise.

A flicker of hope brightened her tired eyes, and a faint flush colored her pale cheeks.

— What’s your name? — Ivan asked, hoping to distract her from the pain.

— Maria Ivanovna… — she whispered, as if saying her name aloud gave her some comfort.

— I’m Ivan. Don’t worry, everything will be okay, — he said softly, brushing snowflakes off her frosty eyebrows.

Minutes felt like hours until the ambulance’s siren finally pierced the blizzard’s roar. Two paramedics in blue jackets appeared, moving swiftly like heroes from a storybook.

— Are you family? — the doctor asked Ivan, raising an eyebrow.

— No, just a passerby, — Ivan replied, but Maria Ivanovna interrupted with a weak but determined voice:

— He’s my guardian angel! — she said firmly. — Without him, I don’t know what would have happened…

The doctor nodded knowingly and asked:

— Would you like to ride with us to the hospital?

Ivan glanced at the warm glow coming from his apartment windows — like a kind giant watching over the neighborhood. After a moment’s hesitation, he climbed into the ambulance alongside the stretcher.

The hospital’s antiseptic smell and sterile brightness were overwhelming. Ivan paced nervously while the medical staff completed paperwork, flinching at every squeak of the stretcher wheels down the hallway. After what felt like an eternity, a tired-looking doctor approached him.

— Your friend has a fractured hip and mild hypothermia. She’ll need rest and care, — the doctor said, leaning against the wall. — She asked if you caught cold out there — it’s rare to see such concern from a stranger these days.

Ivan’s heart tightened. This fragile woman, nearly lost in the snow, was worried about him.

— When can I visit her?

— Tomorrow afternoon, once she’s stabilized. She’s currently on an IV drip.

At the exit, a nurse handed him back his damp jacket, still smelling faintly of hospital disinfectant. Ivan nodded silently, the cold now feeling more like a distant memory.

The next morning dawned bright and clear, the snow sparkling under the sun’s gentle rays. Ivan hurried along the cleared paths, carrying a small basket of fresh fruit and a thermos of hot cocoa.

Maria Ivanovna looked fragile in her hospital bed, like a delicate porcelain figure supported by soft pillows. A bouquet of wildflowers rested on her bedside table — a gift from the caring nurses.

— You’re back! — her eyes lit up, shining like little pools of warmth. — I thought maybe you wouldn’t come again…

— I never doubted I’d see you, — Ivan smiled gently, pulling a chair closer and noticing how her fingers clutched the blanket tightly. — How are you feeling?

— Better, thank you. You have no idea… — she coughed lightly, tears glistening in her eyes. — My son didn’t answer my calls… And you…

— No thanks necessary, — Ivan shrugged, a little awkwardly. — Tell me about yourself. What was your life like before all this?

And she began sharing her story — years spent teaching history at a local school, her son who moved far away to a bustling city, the grandchildren she only saw on video calls. Ivan listened intently, absorbing every word as if they were precious stories from a cherished book.

Outside the hospital window, snowflakes danced slowly in the quiet air, and the noisy corridor softened to a distant murmur. Ivan felt, deeply, that fate had brought them together for a purpose.

— He’s a good boy, just overwhelmed with work, — Maria Ivanovna said softly, defending her son despite the pain in her voice. — He has his own family, his career…

When visiting hours ended, Ivan promised to return the next day. Oddly, the promise felt like a light burden — it gave him a strange happiness, as if these visits filled a void inside him.

Ivan kept his word. Each day, he brought fruits and stories from his own life, sharing jokes and little anecdotes to brighten Maria’s lonely hours. They talked about literature, heroes and their fates, and how the world was always changing.

— You know, Ivan, — one afternoon Maria Ivanovna confided, — when I fell in that blizzard, the fear wasn’t about the broken bone. I was terrified I would vanish unnoticed… that I would become a forgotten shadow on this earth.

Ivan took her fragile hand gently:

— That won’t happen. You have me now.

She smiled faintly:

— You’re kinder than many. But I don’t want to be a burden to a young man like you.

— You’re not a burden, — he squeezed her hand firmly. — You’ve become like family to me.

It was true. Over the days in the hospital, Ivan grew deeply attached to Maria Ivanovna, seeing not just a lonely old woman but a keeper of stories and history fading away with time.

On the day of her discharge, Ivan arrived early. Maria Ivanovna, dressed in an old-fashioned floral dress, struggled to fix her hair, which still stuck out in stubborn tufts.

— Ah, here’s your grandson! — the nurse teased as she adjusted the pillows.

Maria Ivanovna started to deny it, but Ivan cut in:

— I’m here for grandma. Is everything ready?

By the entrance, a sleek black car waited, its driver opening the door. A man jumped out energetically.

— Mom! Finally! — shouted Dmitri, her son, but his voice lacked warmth. — This is Anna and Viktor, — he introduced the well-dressed couple. — They’re interested in buying your apartment. The price is excellent — remember?

Maria Ivanovna shifted her gaze from her son to the strangers, gripping her cane so tightly her knuckles turned white.

— But… I haven’t agreed to sell…

— What’s there to decide? — Dmitri snapped, eyes cold as steel. — You already agreed. And signed a power of attorney.

— I didn’t sign to sell! — Maria Ivanovna raised her voice for the first time.

— You did, Mom. You probably forgot, — Dmitri pulled a folder from his briefcase. — Look here.

Ivan, who had been quietly watching, stepped forward.

— May I see that? — he asked calmly.

Dmitri shot him a hostile look.

— Who are you anyway? This is family business!

— A friend of Maria Ivanovna’s, — Ivan said as he took the papers. His blood ran cold as he scanned the documents. — This is outright fraud. The signature date is from when she was in intensive care!

Anna and Viktor exchanged uneasy glances. Dmitri’s face reddened.

— Mom, enough drama! You can’t live alone. This money will secure your future!

— I want to stay here! — Maria Ivanovna’s voice trembled, but she stood her ground. — This is my home. It holds the laughter of your childhood, the scent of your father’s workshop…

— It smells like damp and decay! — Dmitri barked. — You’ll live with me. In proper conditions!

Ivan positioned himself protectively.

— If Maria Ivanovna doesn’t want to sell, the contract is invalid. You have no right to force this.

Dmitri sneered:

— Step aside, kid. You don’t know what you’re talking about.

— I do. — Ivan showed his phone. — I’ve contacted a lawyer and a notary. The signature was made when your mother was heavily medicated. This is illegal.

Anna and Viktor backed away toward the door.

— We’ll come back later.

— No! — Dmitri grabbed his mother’s hand roughly.

— Nothing is decided! — Maria Ivanovna yanked her hand free. — I’m staying. And not selling this apartment.

Ivan picked up a fallen photo in a silver frame — Maria Ivanovna with Dmitri at his graduation. Dmitri’s youthful face shone with innocence.

— Do you remember who he was? — Ivan asked softly. — Or have you erased those memories, too?

Dmitri froze. For a brief moment, a glimpse of something human flickered in his eyes — then it vanished.

— You don’t understand. This apartment is a burden. Better to sell it while you can.

— A burden? — Maria Ivanovna leaned on her cane. — This is our home. Your father renovated it before he died. You did your homework here. Here…

Her voice cracked and tears streamed down her cheeks. Ivan wrapped his arm around her trembling shoulders.

— Calm down. I’ll help you. We’ll fight this together.

Dmitri clenched his fists. Ivan saw clearly then: this was not a caring son, but a stranger for whom the apartment was just a property.

Later, after the visitors left and Dmitri slammed the door, Maria Ivanovna sat quietly, stroking an old wooden breadbox.

— Why is he like this? — she whispered. — He used to love these walls…

— Because he forgot what roots mean, — Ivan said softly, pouring her tea. — But we’ll remind him. Together.

The silence was thick, like the coldest winter fog. Dmitri shot Ivan a look filled with open hostility.

— You don’t see the truth, — he growled, — I’m trying to protect her. After the fracture, she can’t be alone.

Ivan touched the faded curtain braid, drawing strength from the memories woven into the fabric.

— Are you sure protecting her means secretly selling her home?

Maria Ivanovna, who had been motionless like an antique clock, suddenly straightened. Her voice was fragile but unwavering:

— Dmitri, I will not give up this apartment. The laughter of your childhood lives here, the scent of your father in his workshop… Even the cracks on the ceiling remind me of years filled with books and love.

Her son shuddered as if struck by an unseen blow.

— But how will you live? You’ll fall again. What then?

— She won’t be alone, — Ivan said, squeezing her hand. — I’ll help with groceries. Our neighbor Olga promised to visit often. We’ll make a plan.

Dmitri turned sharply, knocking the folder from the table. The papers fluttered like autumn leaves.

— Do what you want! — he snapped, slamming the door behind him.

Maria Ivanovna sank onto the couch, fiddling with the edge of her knitted blanket.

— He’s my son… — she whispered. — But why won’t my heart listen to reason?

Ivan picked up a photo of Dmitri in first grade.

— Because he still remembers this house, — he said, placing the photo carefully on the nightstand. — He just forgot what love smells like here.

That evening, they drank mint tea from an old samovar. Maria Ivanovna warmed her hands on the cup and said:

— I always told my students, “Fate is not a straight path but a labyrinth. Sometimes you fall in the snow to find someone who will reach out their hand.”

Seven months later, when lilacs outside had faded, a knock came at the door. Dmitri stood there with his wife and teenage daughter, his tie crooked and a bouquet of wildflowers trembling in his hands.

— Sorry, Mom, — his voice shook like a fragile leaf. — I was lost… I was living in a fog.

Without a word, Maria Ivanovna embraced her son. The teenage girl smiled shyly and whispered to Ivan:

— Grandma talks about you a lot. You’re like a sudden ray of sunshine in December for her.

Later, as the guests left, Maria Ivanovna gazed out at the swirling snowflakes.

— You know, Ivan, — her eyes sparkled softly, — falling in that snowdrift saved me. You showed me that family isn’t just walls but those who are ready to protect them.

Ivan looked at the family album on the shelf and smiled.

— You taught me that kindness returns in unexpected hearts. Like flowers growing through cracks in the pavement.

Their quiet conversation was interrupted by a call — Olga was inviting them for tea and pie. Maria Ivanovna, grabbing her cane, laughed warmly.

— Life is just beginning, it seems. Thank you for helping me see that.