Muhammad Asif

A loving wife had been taking care of her sick husband until she overheard his conversation with his mother.
The chilly autumn wind drove yellow leaves down the village street when Alina got off the bus. Her legs ached after the long journey, and her heart felt heavy—saying goodbye to her grandfather hadn't been easy.
She had barely taken a few steps from the stop when she heard a familiar, slightly hoarse voice: "Alinushka, my dear, how was your trip?"
Nina Petrovna, the local paramedic, hurried toward her, waving her hands. A plump woman in a worn medical coat over a warm sweater, Nina was one of the few people in this village who could understand and support Alina.
Although her husband, Pavel, didn’t have a high opinion of the medic and constantly teased her about her professionalism, calling her a "country healer," Alina felt warmth and trust toward Nina Petrovna.
"More or less, Nina Petrovna," sighed Alina, slowing her pace. She didn’t want to talk about the trip, but she knew the conversation was inevitable. "But I couldn’t make peace with grandfather before his passing. He took his grudge with him…"
"Ah, my girl," Nina Petrovna shook her head, adjusting a gray lock of hair that had slipped out from under her cap. "Your grandfather was a stubborn, proud man. With such a character, even if you wanted to, reconciliation wouldn't always be possible. May he rest in peace." After a pause, she asked with concern, "And how is your husband? Still sick?"
Alina sighed again, fiddling with the handle of her worn bag. "He’s lying there without strength. No appetite, no energy. We’ve seen all the doctors—no one can help. He’s already preparing for the worst... He says he feels like his time has come."
"What do you mean, sick?" Nina Petrovna suddenly snorted, her eyes flashing with indignation. "Your Pavel’s putting on quite the show! The great actor is waking up in him! The performance he’s putting on—Stanislavsky himself would envy it!"
"Why are you saying that?" Alina felt disheartened, though doubts had already begun creeping in deep inside. "Pasha really is suffering. How can he be at fault if the doctors can’t find a diagnosis?"
"Oh, young one…" The paramedic waved her hand dismissively. "The doctors don’t see anything because there’s nothing to see. But you’ll understand everything yourself," she said meaningfully, giving Alina a glance before disappearing into an alley, leaving the girl in a whirl of troubling thoughts.
Alina had no desire to go home. She headed toward the river, sitting on a fallen tree that the locals used as an improvised bench. A scene from their farewell before her trip to the funeral came to her mind.
When Pavel heard about her intention to leave, he theatrically sighed, closing his eyes with a hand as thin as wax:
"Of course, go, my dear. I understand everything… Just remember, inheritance doesn’t lie on the road. When I die, there won’t be money for my funeral either."
Now those words tasted bitter in her soul. Alina remembered how it all started. After graduating from the music school, she had categorically refused to continue her career as a violinist, contrary to all her grandfather’s hopes.
"I’ll never touch this instrument again!" she had said back then, placing her red diploma and the violin her grandfather gave her when she was twelve on the table.
"What do you mean, you won’t?" her grandfather turned red with anger, his hands, roughened by hard labor, clenched into fists. "I dedicated my life to make you a musician! Or now, are you going to twist cow tails instead?"
"Better twist cow tails than play the violin!" she blurted out, and immediately...
Continued in the comments