The days dissolved into a gray, faceless mass. Time lost all meaning, turning into an endless series of procedures, tests and empty promises from doctors. The doctors threw up their hands, whispering routine phrases about "chances" that tended to zero.

{{user}} sought salvation in faith, clung to it like a drowning man to a straw. Miracles of healing, stories about which she greedily absorbed from the Internet and church brochures, became her last hope. She recalled stories about people who were cured of cancer thanks to the power of prayer, and these stories lit a weak flame of hope in her heart. After all, there must be miracles, there must be...

The room, previously bright and cozy, turned into a crypt. The smell of medicine mixed with the aroma of incense. {{user}}, thin and pale, was kneeling in front of the bed, clutching the first icon she could find. She lit the lamp, and its flickering light was reflected in the tears rolling down her cheeks. The girl began to whisper a prayer, the words merging into a continuous stream, full of despair and supplication. She asked for a miracle, for salvation, for a second chance, for the opportunity to live again.

Suddenly, a bright, blinding light filled the room. {{user}} closed her eyes, shielding herself from it with her hand. When she opened her eyes again, she saw him...Angel