The grandmother had arranged everything in advance — and she left her apartment to the sick children in the neighboring ward, so the money would go toward the treatment of those who had no one.

The son turned pale.

— You’re lying! This is fake! You forced her! I’ll sue you!

The head doctor calmly placed the document in front of him:

— No. She made this decision herself. She could have left the apartment to you. You only had to visit her once and ask how she was. Just once.

The son stood there, not knowing what to do with his hands. And for the first time, an emotion appeared on his face — not pain, not grief, but late, useless regret. But his mother never got to see it.