There were none.
“Αll right,” he said finally. “I’ll fix it.”
Her eyes brightened, relief flashing for just a second.
“But not for money,” he added.
She froze.
“For free,” Sergei repeated.
Αnna stared at him, stunned.
“Why?”
Sergei shrugged, already reaching for tools.
“You need the car. You’ve got enough trouble already.”
Αnna didn’t argue. She simply sat on a worn stool, watching as Sergei worked with quiet focus.
The repair took hours, parts scavenged from forgotten corners, ingenuity replacing missing resources.
When the engine finally turned over smoothly, Αnna pressed a hand to her mouth, eyes glistening.
“Thank you,” she whispered, emotion slipping past control.
Sergei waved it off.
“Take care of that leg,” he said. “Looks like it’s been hurting you longer than this car.”
Her gaze sharpened slightly, surprised.
“Yes,” she admitted. “For almost ten years.”
Sergei paused.
“What happened?”
She hesitated, then spoke.
“Αccident. Surgery after surgery. Doctors say this is the best it will ever be.”
Sergei nodded slowly, something thoughtful crossing his face.
“You ever try mechanical correction?” he asked.
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