A pregnant homeless woman ended up right at the doors of the maternity ward. No one knew who she was or where she came from… until one doctor met her gaze — and everything changed. 

 I was on duty that night when they brought her in. Actually, no one had brought her — she had simply appeared at the entrance of the maternity ward. Pregnant, pale, with eyes that carried both pain and a silent plea for help.

She sat on a bench in the corridor, holding her belly in her arms, barely moving. She had no documents, no belongings, not even a name we could use to register her.

Colleagues whispered: “What should we do with her? Where should we send her?”. The head midwife simply waved her hand — as if there was no time to deal with it.

I was just about to approach when Dr. Michael Thompson entered the corridor. He froze when he noticed her. His gaze became heavy and somewhat empty, as if he wasn’t looking at a patient, but at a ghost from the past.

— Who is this woman? — he asked quietly, but no one answered.

The doctor came closer, knelt down in front of her, and looked her straight in the eyes. I saw something change in his face — first confusion, then… recognition.

— Get her a room immediately, — he said sharply, without even looking at us.

I noticed his gaze fall on a worn silver necklace around her neck. Then he suddenly whispered:

— My God… Could it be… her?..

To be continued in the first comment

The doctor stood up and, without a word, led the woman into an empty room. The door closed immediately behind them.

We glanced at each other — I had never seen him like this before. Usually calm, collected, but now… there was urgency in his movements, and in his eyes — anxiety.

A few minutes later, I brought an IV into the room. She was sitting on the bed, and he was speaking softly to her, almost in a whisper. I caught only a few words: “back then… I didn’t make it… forgive me…”.

She looked away and clenched the necklace in her fist.

As I connected the IV, I could feel the tension hanging in the air. The woman was silent, but there was something familiar in her gaze… and I couldn’t figure out what it was.

— You know that everything will be different now, — the doctor said quietly, and in his voice I heard not medical firmness, but personal pain.
She nodded, without raising her eyes.

— Doctor, excuse me, — I couldn’t resist. — Who is she?

He looked at me as if weighing every word. Then he sighed deeply:
— She’s my sister.

I nearly dropped the IV.
— But… you said you had no one…

— I had to say that, — he interrupted. — We lost contact more than ten years ago. She disappeared…

I asked nothing more. But when I left the room, I realized: her story was far more complicated than simply the return of a missing relative.