Svetlana couldn’t believe how much her life had changed in just one year. She often found herself smiling for no reason—her heart light, her steps quick. A year ago, happiness felt like a distant dream. Back then, she lived under the roof of her aunt—a woman who treated her more like a maid than a niece. Svetlana cooked, cleaned, tended the garden… while her aunt lounged on the couch, barking orders and complaining about every crumb.
She had longed for freedom, for a real life—one where she could finish her education, find a job, and live without fear. Her aunt took advantage of her, collected welfare in Svetlana’s name, and still managed to scold her over a piece of bread. Then, out of the blue, came a miracle.
She met Alexey.
Confident. Charming. Smart. A man with a real job and his own apartment. He had a way of making everything seem possible. After a few months of dating, he looked at her seriously and said, “I can’t keep watching you suffer under your aunt’s roof. Move in with me. Let’s live like real people.”
It wasn’t a proposal—but it felt like one. Without hesitation, she packed a small bag and walked away from that bitter house. Her aunt shouted after her, disowning her and cursing her name, but Svetlana never looked back.
She had a home now. A man she loved. Mornings filled with coffee and soft laughter. Evenings with dinner on the stove and music humming through the walls. She rushed home from work every day, warmed by the thought of building a life together.
And today… today was even more special.
She had just come from the clinic, her chest bursting with joy. Yesterday, she suspected. Today, it was confirmed—she was pregnant. Not just with one child… but with twins.
Carrying that secret like a precious gift, she hurried home, dreaming of how Alexey’s eyes would light up. But as soon as she stepped into the apartment, something felt wrong. The air was heavy with perfume—her perfume. The one she hadn’t worn in months.
She tiptoed forward. There were voices. Laughter. Muffled sounds coming from the bedroom. Her stomach twisted.
Gripping the mop like a weapon, Svetlana pushed the door open—and everything shattered.
Alexey was in bed—with another woman. A stranger. Beautiful, half-naked, laughing until she saw Svetlana standing there.
Alexey barely blinked. He got up, unbothered. “Why are you looking at me like that?” he said casually. “You’re not a child. These things happen. What we had—it was just a spark. It’s gone now.”
His words hit like a slap. Svetlana couldn’t speak. Couldn’t cry. She just turned and walked out, her heart hollow and aching.
“Come get your things later!” he shouted after her.
But what things? Everything she cared about had just been destroyed.
By nightfall, she found herself wandering near a crumbling courtyard, the kind that had been forgotten by time. Finally, in desperation, she went back to the one place she’d vowed never to return—her aunt’s house. But the lights were off. The windows were dark. And the words her aunt had spat the day she left echoed louder than ever: You’re nothing, and you’ll end up with nothing.
She walked away from that house, her breath fogging in the morning air. By the time she reached the riverbank, dawn was breaking. She sat down on the damp grass, eyes locked on the water.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered to the tiny lives inside her. “I just… I can’t.”
She stood, wiped her tears, and checked the time. If she caught the first bus, she could reach the clinic by mid-morning. She smoothed her hair in a pocket mirror and forced herself to keep walking.
The train car was nearly empty. Only a few passengers and one elderly woman with a wrinkled bag full of something sweet-smelling. Moments later, the conductor arrived—and Svetlana noticed the old woman growing visibly nervous.
“No ticket?” she asked gently.
The woman sighed. “Left my wallet at home again. I just wanted to bring some pies to my grandson. He works so hard.”
Without a second thought, Svetlana stepped forward and paid for both of them.
“Oh child… Thank you,” the woman said softly. “I didn’t know what I would’ve done. My Seryozha always tells me not to come. Says I should rest. But he barely has time to visit. I miss him.”
There was something in the woman’s voice—warmth, love, patience. Things Svetlana had never truly felt. She found herself relaxing for the first time in days.
“And you, my dear? Where are you headed with eyes like that?” the woman asked.
Svetlana tried to lie, but the truth spilled out in tears. “He left me. Betrayed me. I wanted… I wanted to keep them, but I can’t do this alone…”
The woman gently stroked her hair. “You’ll regret this, my girl. You have the heart of a mother—I can feel it.”
“But I have no place to go. No one,” Svetlana whispered.
They got off at the next stop together. The woman hugged her and wished her strength. Svetlana ran the rest of the way to the hospital. They told her if she arrived before ten, they’d see her today. Otherwise, she’d have to wait.
At the front door, she hesitated. Her chest ached with grief. She pushed it open—and froze.
The old woman from the train was waiting.
“I had a feeling you’d come,” she said, smiling.
“Please,” Svetlana said weakly, “I just want to get this over with before I lose my nerve.”
“Come with me first. I want you to meet my grandson.”
“I don’t have time—”
“You’ll make time,” the woman said firmly, taking her hand. Her tone left no room for argument.
Down a long corridor they walked, past smiling nurses. The woman stopped at a door marked “Chief Physician” and knocked once before opening it.
The man inside was young—young for someone in charge—and smiling.
“There you are,” he said warmly. “Grandmother’s told me everything.”
Svetlana stiffened. “I’ve made up my mind. There’s no changing it.”
“If that were true,” the man said gently, “you wouldn’t be in this room.”
His name was Sergey Anatolyevich. He offered her water and asked her to sit.
“You don’t know me,” she murmured.
“I know enough,” he replied. “I know you helped a stranger. I know you’re scared. And I know… you didn’t come here hoping someone would stop you. But deep down, you needed someone to.”
Svetlana looked into his eyes and knew he was right.
“I don’t have a home,” she said. “I can’t go back to my aunt. I have no one.”
“What if I offered you one?” Sergey said.
He paused, choosing his words.
“My grandmother means the world to me. She’s stubborn, and she worries me by traveling all over town with those pies. She needs someone with her. Someone who’s kind, who needs kindness, too. When she met you, I think she believed… maybe God was putting something right.”
He smiled gently.
“Move in with her. She’ll take care of you, and you’ll help care for her. She was a pediatrician—you’ll have help. And we’ll figure everything else out. You don’t owe us anything—just a chance.”
Svetlana didn’t know what to say. Two hours later, she was unpacking her bag in a cozy little room with fresh curtains and the scent of baked apples in the air.
Evdokiya Semyonovna—Sergey’s grandmother—treated her like family from day one. They baked together, laughed, even set up a nursery. Sergey visited often. At first, Svetlana was shy around him, but little by little, his calm presence became a comfort.
When it came time to pick up her belongings from Alexey’s place, Sergey insisted on going with her.
Alexey opened the door, stunned to see her—round with pregnancy and accompanied by a man with steady eyes and an unwavering stance.
“That… that’s mine!” Alexey barked, pointing to her belly.
“No,” Svetlana replied calmly. “They’re mine. And they have nothing to do with you anymore.”
She never looked back.
Months passed. Then came the day when Svetlana gave birth to two perfect, healthy girls.
Sergey was the first to visit.
“They’re beautiful,” he said, eyes shining.
Svetlana, exhausted and glowing, looked up. “Thank you—for everything. If it weren’t for you and your grandmother…”
Sergey rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “Actually… she’s been saying something lately. That I should marry you.”
He blushed. “I told her, ‘Come on, she’s younger than me, she doesn’t want an old guy like me.’ But she insists it’s my duty. And honestly… I wouldn’t mind.”
Svetlana took his hand gently.
“Wait,” she said, smiling. “Was that your way of proposing?”
Sergey flushed deeper. “I… I guess so. You don’t have to say yes. I just—”
“I will,” she interrupted softly.
“Why?” he asked, breathless.
She smiled, eyes full of peace. “Because from the first moment I walked into your office, I knew—you were the one.”