Ten-year-old Grisha was in high spirits as he made his way home from school.
He skipped along the riverbank where the last of the ice had melted, and tender green grass curled along the edges. But his cheerful mood shifted when he saw an elderly woman nearby, soaked to the bone, trembling, and crying.
“Hello! Are you okay?” he asked, spotting a pile of drenched clothes beside her. “Did you fall into the river?”
“Oh, child, I wasn’t clumsy—I was pushed,” the woman replied through tears. “I just can’t believe how cruel people can be. I was trying to reach the village to find some warmth, but I got such a terrible cramp, I couldn’t breathe or move another step.”
“Hold on, Grandma—I’ll be back!” Grisha shouted as he turned and sprinted toward the village.
He burst through the door of his home. “Mama! There’s a woman down by the river—she’s soaked and freezing! She said someone pushed her in, and now she can’t walk. I want to bring her something warm!”
Grisha dashed outside, dragging the four-wheeled cart that his mother, Lyudmila, usually used to deliver milk to the main road. She covered the cart with a thick sheepskin and added her late husband’s coat, then rushed with her son back to the riverbank.
The elderly woman, no longer sitting, now lay curled up on the grass, her whole body trembling.
Lyudmila quickly wrapped her in warm clothes, lifted her gently onto the cart, and took her home.
After a hot bath, a warm meal, and some tea, the woman—Ksenia Petrovna—was finally calm, though overwhelmed with gratitude. While Grisha went to play, Lyudmila sat beside her and asked what had happened.
“I used to live with my eldest son,” Ksenia began. “Life was good while his first wife, Lenochka, was around. She was a kind nurse, always taking care of me and making sure I had my medicine. When she got sick, he hired help and eventually moved her to a hospice. After her passing, he remarried six months later to a young model named Mila. She disliked me from the start and made it clear I was a burden.”
