He didn’t even look at her as the nurse began filling out the paperwork.
“Maiden name?” the nurse asked dully, without raising her eyes.
The old woman quietly spoke her family name.
In that instant, the nurse froze — then slowly lifted her gaze to the elderly woman. A look of genuine shock appeared in her eyes.

The son behind her let out an impatient sigh.
“So what now? Can we hurry? I’ve got things to do.”

But the nurse no longer seemed to hear him.
She stared at the old woman as if she were looking at a ghost.

“Sorry… your maiden name… are you sure?” the nurse asked with a trembling voice.

“I’m very sure,” the old woman replied calmly. “I lost the right to use it twenty years ago — but I never forgot it.”

The nurse took a deep breath, as if gathering courage, and finally spoke the words that shook everyone in the room:

“I’ve seen that name before… in our archives.”

The son rolled his eyes.
“So what? Is that supposed to matter?”

Still ignoring him, the nurse leaned closer to the old woman, lowering her voice:

“Are you… related to Natalia ***?”

For a moment, the old woman closed her eyes. A soft, weary dignity appeared on her face.

“Natalia was my sister,” she said.

The nurse went pale, her hand trembling around the pen.

“The Natalia?” she whispered.

“The very one,” the old woman confirmed.

The son threw up his hands:
“I don’t even know who that is! Who cares?! Just sign the papers!”

But the nurse finally lifted her head and looked at him sharply:
“It matters because if it weren’t for that woman… I wouldn’t be alive.”

Silence.

Then she continued:
“In 1943, when soldiers came to our village… your aunt risked her life to lead people through the forest and hide them in the monastery. Many survived only because of her courage. In memory of her sacrifice, our home promised to provide free care to anyone from her family line.”

The son blinked, stunned for the first time.

“So you’re telling me…” he faltered, “my mother can stay here… for free?”

The nurse nodded.
“And not only that. According to our rules, direct relatives are allowed to live here with them — if they choose. Not as visitors… but as family.”

This time, the words hit him.

For the first time, he looked at his mother not with annoyance — but with recognition.

She met his gaze gently.
His voice wavered:

“Mom… I… I didn’t know.”

“I know,” she replied softly. “You simply didn’t know. That’s all.”