“What was your gynecologist thinking?!” the doctors shouted during the delivery of a 56-year-old woman. And when they saw who she gave birth to, they were simply speechless

The cemetery’s silence was broken by the mournful wail of the village women. They cried in harmony, then fell silent, bowing their heads humbly. The funeral procession left the cemetery and returned to the village. Only one person remained, sobbing loudly at the fresh grave.

It was Lyudmila, the paramedic who had discovered Claudia’s pregnancy. She blamed herself for Claudia’s death. She hadn’t monitored her closely enough, hadn’t followed up properly, and sent her for ultrasounds on an old machine that might have given inaccurate readings, missing the babies’ abnormalities.

“Oh, Claudia Mikhailovna, Aunt Claudia, what have I done to you? Forgive me if you can. I’ll spend my life on my knees begging for your forgiveness. Though your body is lifeless, your soul is alive and hears me,” Lyudmila pleaded, tears streaming down her face. Then, a realization hit her.

She shuddered, lifted her tear-streaked eyes to the gloomy sky, and spoke again, as if swearing an oath. “Claudia Mikhailovna, I want to atone for my guilt before you and God. I dream of doing what you couldn’t—raising and nurturing the children you bore.

I don’t know why, but I believe they won’t perish, they won’t die. They’ll live for themselves and for you, I promise, and I’ll do everything to keep that promise.” Lyudmila hadn’t expected such words from herself.

But they came not from her head but from her heart, making them the most sincere and true. For a long time, Lyuda couldn’t tear herself away from the grave to join the others in the village.

Only when a downpour began, soaking her to the bone, did she return home. Such powerful promises aren’t made lightly. If she swore it, she had to follow through.

To do otherwise would be to disrespect herself. Lyudmila decided to act on her plan immediately. Nothing stays hidden in a village.

Lyuda, of course, knew what had happened to Claudia’s husband, Miron. The next morning, she rushed to the maternity hospital, where she ran into Irina, who had just signed a form relinquishing her mother’s children. Lyudmila couldn’t contain her emotions and stormed into the office of the hospital’s director, Elena Sergeevna, right after Irina.

But the director was clearly in a bad mood. An elderly patient had died right after surgery, surrounded by doctors who couldn’t save her—a scandal that wouldn’t go unpunished.

Premature babies with abnormalities and a relinquishment form—more headaches. “What do you want?” she finally asked, looking up from her papers with an irritated tone. When Lyudmila explained her purpose, Elena Sergeevna twirled her finger at her temple.

“You’re a paramedic, and you’re talking such nonsense. The hospital doesn’t handle adoptions—go to the orphanage. If you’re talking about the elderly patient’s children, don’t you know they were born premature and are under constant medical supervision? I can’t help you. Please leave.” Stunned, Lyudmila was speechless for a moment, then left the office empty-handed…