Yulia Antonovna had faithfully served the Grigoryev family—Vladimir and Lyudmila—for many years. On this particular afternoon, with the couple away and her household chores complete, she settled by the window to rest. Her gaze drifted outside, where she noticed a small boy wandering along the fence bordering the property. Thin and dressed in worn, ragged clothes, he moved slowly, as if weighed down by hunger and fatigue.
“Maybe he’s hungry,” Yulia Antonovna murmured, sympathy welling up inside her. Glancing at the grand clock in the parlor, she realized the owners wouldn’t be home for some time. Without hesitation, she stepped out into the yard to approach the child.
“What’s your name, little one?” she asked gently, crouching down to meet his eyes.
“Vasya,” he replied, eyes wary beneath a mop of tangled hair.
“Well, Vasya, come with me. I have some fresh apple pie for you,” she offered kindly. The boy, hesitant at first, quickly followed her into the warm kitchen, his empty stomach rumbling in anticipation.
Yulia Antonovna sliced a generous piece of pie and placed it carefully on a plate before Vasya.
“This is delicious!” the boy exclaimed, savoring every bite. “My mother used to bake pies like this,” he added wistfully.
“And where is your mother now?” the woman inquired cautiously.
Vasya’s face fell, and he stopped eating, eyes downcast.
“I’ve been searching for her a long time,” he whispered. “She disappeared.”
“Eat, dear,” Yulia Antonovna encouraged softly. “I believe you’ll find her someday.”
Just then, the front door creaked open, and Vladimir and Lyudmila returned. The sound of footsteps made the maid flinch.
“And who might this visitor be?” Vladimir asked sharply as he peered into the kitchen.
His eyes widened upon seeing the boy. “Who did you bring in, Yulia?”
“This child is hungry and looking for his mother. I thought he could use some food,” she explained calmly, shrugging.
“Now you’re feeding every stray that comes by? And what about our wishes?” Vladimir protested.
Vasya’s lip quivered, and tears welled up in his eyes.
“I think I should go,” he muttered, pushing the half-eaten slice of pie away.
Before he could leave, Lyudmila’s softer voice stopped him.
“Wait, young man,” she said gently. “Tell us—where do you come from? Where did you lose your mother?”
Lyudmila had always been the gentler of the two, her kindness often frustrating Vladimir but never changing her nature.
“My grandfather lived with me, but he was cruel,” Vasya admitted, pulling a faded photograph from his threadbare pocket. “He always scolded and sometimes hurt me. I ran away.”
He wiped away a tear and handed the photo to the couple.
Lyudmila’s breath caught. There, in the faded picture, was their daughter—Varya.
“Look, Volodya, it’s our girl,” she whispered, trembling as she passed the photo to her husband.
Vladimir examined the photo carefully. “Vasya, how did you get this?”
“I took it from my grandfather. The back has an address, so I came here, hoping my mother might be here,” Vasya explained quietly, his voice steadier.
“Grandpa says my mother abandoned me like a cuckoo leaves her eggs,” the boy said, shaking his head in disbelief.
“That can’t be true,” Lyudmila repeated, memories flooding back. Their daughter Varya had once run away with a man named Manush. They hadn’t heard from her for years until she returned and then tragically died in an accident. Since then, the vast house had felt unbearably empty.
“And your father?” Vladimir asked softly.
“He passed away six months ago,” Vasya sobbed anew.
Stunned by the revelation, the couple embraced the boy. No longer willing to endure loneliness, they decided to take him in as their own.
“Come with us, little one,” Lyudmila said warmly. “We’ll get you settled in your room.”
“Will my mother come back?” Vasya asked hopefully.
“She’s with your father now,” Lyudmila replied gently.
The boy paled but nodded.
In time, the paperwork for adoption was finalized. Surprisingly, Vasya’s grandfather raised no objections when he learned the boy would be cared for by the wealthy couple.
Yulia Antonovna felt joy knowing that meeting the boy had brought happiness back into the household. Vasya transformed from a starving, lost child into a well-mannered boy, surrounded by love and comfort.