Alyona stood frozen by the sink, a half-washed plate paused mid-air as she listened to the sound of rain hammering against the windows. Their dog lingered at the door, trembling and whining softly. The atmosphere felt heavy and strange—as if reality itself had thickened into something unfamiliar.
The front door creaked open, and Maria Nikitichna, Alyona’s mother-in-law, stepped inside, clutching two tiny bundles close to her chest. Her face was streaked with tears.
“Alyona, please… help me,” she pleaded.
Curious and concerned, Alyona moved closer. Maria gently unfolded one blanket to reveal a newborn’s scrunched, red face, quietly crying. “There are two,” she whispered—a boy and a girl. “We found them in the old, abandoned well…”
Alyona’s legs nearly gave out. Carefully, she took the baby from Maria’s arms. The infant was cold and filthy but breathing steadily. His wide dark eyes met hers with a piercing intensity that reached deep into her soul.
“The well? The one covered with moss and rotting leaves?” Alyona asked in disbelief.
“Yes. Petrovich and I pulled them out. Sharik—the dog—was acting strange, barking and pulling me toward the well. We heard the crying and managed to rescue them just in time. No one in the village has missing children. They must be strangers.”
Alyona held the baby close, his heartbeat syncing with hers.
For five long years, she and Stepan had hoped and tried. Endless tests, attempts, and disappointments. The nursery remained empty—filled with toys and cribs, but no laughter or cries.
“And the other one?” Alyona asked, unable to look away from the first child.
Maria unfolded the second bundle, revealing a tiny girl. “They must be twins—lost together.”
The door creaked again. Stepan, soaked from the rain, stood at the threshold.
“What’s going on?” he asked, eyes fixed on his wife cradling the baby.
Maria told him what they had found. He listened quietly, then approached Alyona, gently brushing the baby’s cheek.
“How could anyone abandon them?” he asked, voice heavy with sorrow.
“The district officer will be here tomorrow,” Maria said. “I’ve reported it already. The medic is coming to examine the babies.”
Stepan took the little girl from Alyona’s arms. She opened her eyes and looked up at him with an unspoken seriousness that caught him off guard.
“What will happen to them?” he whispered.
Maria hesitated, then said, “If their parents can’t be found, they’ll go to an orphanage.”
Stepan looked between his wife and mother, then placed a firm hand on Alyona’s shoulder.
“We’re keeping them.”
The words hung in the air—simple yet profound.
“We’re keeping them,” Alyona echoed. For the first time in years, warmth blossomed inside her, thawing the long-held coldness.
An hour later, the medic arrived. He examined the twins—healthy, unharmed, roughly a year old, miraculously surviving in that forgotten well.
That night, as the children slept in their makeshift cradle, Stepan sat beside Alyona.
“Are you sure about this?” she asked softly.
“Yes,” he squeezed her hand. “Tomorrow I’ll speak with the district officer, with the mother—whoever is needed. We’ll arrange guardianship. This is our chance.”
“And if their real parents come?”
“The ones who left them there? They won’t,” he said firmly. “They’ve already lost them.”
Alyona rested her head on his shoulder. Outside, the rain eased to a gentle whisper. One of the babies stirred, and she rose to soothe her.
The twins lay side by side, fragile and small—now hers. Something within her stirred—a long-lost warmth had finally returned.
“What will we call them?” Stepan whispered, gazing down at them.
Alyona smiled softly.
“Nadya and Kostya.”
Hope and Strength—the names fate had sent at the exact right moment.