A Story of Love, Loss, and Unexpected Bonds
At the window, Nika stood silently, her gaze fixed thoughtfully on the courtyard outside, while a cold cup of tea rested forgotten in her hands. Beyond the glass, life buzzed as usual: children frolicked on the playground, while their mothers remained on benches, each immersed in their own activities. Some chattered nonstop, others were buried in their phones, and a few flipped through books. The youngsters were left largely to their own devices.
Suddenly, a boy sprinted toward the sandbox and violently knocked down a tower that two others had just built. One of these children clenched a handful of sand and threw it in retaliation. The aggressor howled and rushed back, sparking a fight that only drew the attention of the mothers moments later. Two women stood to intervene, attempting to adjudicate right from wrong; however, their discussion quickly devolved into a quarrel between themselves. A crowd gathered, while Nika stepped back from the window, struck by how unfair life seemed to be. Why did these women not cherish their happiness? She thought. If she had a child, she would never be distracted by a phone but would invent games, spend time, and lavish attention on the little one. Yet, these mothers prioritized everything else—except their own children. How could such neglect be possible?
With a heavy sigh, Nika retreated to the bedroom. A medical report lay on the nightstand, its harsh reality searing her eyes. She was infertile. The doctor’s words echoed like a funeral toll in her mind. Numerous years of trying, countless attempts, sanatorium visits, enigmatic advice from healers, mountain hikes—all in vain. Now, the message was clear: there was no hope. That evening, she was meant to face the hardest conversation of her life. Sergey, her husband, had stood by her, shared her dreams, believing their parental hopes would one day be fulfilled. But now, she had to shatter his dreams just as her own had been shattered by the doctors’ verdict.
“Miracles can happen,” the doctor had said with open hands, “but as a physician, I cannot offer false hopes.”
She skipped preparing dinner, overwhelmed by despair that engulfed her completely. She longed to vanish, to erase all memories. Life without children felt meaningless; why live if not to leave a legacy? Despite attempts to rationalize—convincing herself many find happiness childless, or maybe her destiny lay elsewhere—the thought haunted her relentlessly: if she could not nurture a child, what was it all for? Adoption crossed her mind, but she dared not mention it to Sergey. His dream of fatherhood weighed heavily, and she felt she had failed him. When the door flung open, she startled.
“Serge, you’re home early! I wanted to call and ask you to stop by the deli, but I never got around to it. Sorry, I didn’t manage dinner.”
“No worries, I’ll go now. The usual?”
“I have no appetite,” Nika sobbed. “Just grab something—maybe later I’ll eat. Though it’s doubtful.”
“You look like the ground’s been pulled out from under you,” he said sympathetically, stroking her shoulder. “Alright, I won’t pry now. Let’s eat together later, and you can tell me everything.”
She nodded, silence heavy in the room as her heart constricted. Sergey’s lightness would not last much longer. She was also ashamed that he would have to climb to the seventh floor again—there was no working elevator—but Sergey was unfazed. Returning quickly, he placed the food containers neatly on the table and gently urged her to speak.
“Serge, I was at the doctor today. Got the test results… and…”
“So?” His eyes held both hope and anxiety; it was as if he feared yet refused to accept the truth.
“I cannot have children,” Nika choked, bursting into tears.
Setting down his fork, Sergey knelt before her and laid his head on her knees.
“Don’t cry, dear. What can we do now? We’ll face this together. Many couples have no children—you’re not alone. The important thing is that we have each other. Everything will be alright.”
“But I can’t live like this,” she whispered through her tears. “I feel worthless. If only we could adopt… Then I wouldn’t feel guilty. To give love—even if not biologically—is a noble act. Helping one small child—doesn’t that give life meaning? What do you think?”
“I’ve never really thought about it,” Sergey admitted, shrugging, “but I promise I will consider it.”
Nika exhaled in relief, the promise igniting a faint glimmer of hope. She restrained herself from pressuring him, anxiously waiting as she yearned for a baby to fill their home. She dreamed of loving the child like her own, spending weekends in parks, at ice rinks, or even buying a countryside house to experience nature more often. Every time she looked at Sergey, she hoped he would say, “Yes, let’s adopt.” But his words came far from what she desired.
“Nika, I’ve been thinking,” he began seriously, “maybe we can do without a child? Consider who ends up in orphanages—mostly kids from troubled families. Rarely do children come from good homes. Usually, it’s when both parents have passed, and no relatives remain. Those cases are exceptions.”
“I understand,” she replied. “But we could find out everything: parents’ background, child’s health, characteristics. It’s not quick, of course—some say you wait years. But it’s worth it.”
“Exactly—years. We don’t know what will happen in a couple of years. And our age—soon, you may not want to care for a toddler.”
“Serge, let’s at least visit. I found out you can visit an orphanage by appointment, bring gifts, spend time with the children. Then, if we want, we could become weekend parents. We’ll see. Please?”
He remained silent, his gaze meeting hers filled with profound longing. Then he nodded.
“Alright… let’s try.”
Nika rushed to embrace him, showering his face with kisses and whispered gratitude.
The following week, Nika contacted the orphanage director and arranged a visit. The day before, she visited toy stores, bought numerous age-appropriate games, and ordered a large cake. Early in the morning, she and Sergey headed to the orphanage. Stepping out, Nika sensed countless eyes from windows watching them, filled with curiosity, timidity, and hope.
As soon as she took a step, a small boy about four years old ran toward her, hugging her legs while crying softly.
“Mommy…” he whispered, sobbing. “My mommy…”
Nika froze, her hands full of bags, unable to embrace him. Sergey took the bags, and she knelt down. The boy’s big blue eyes welled with tears as he shakily stroked her face. The director, hearing the commotion, asked a caregiver to take the child away and invited Nika and Sergey to her office. The boy cried, unwilling to let go of his “mom,” but Nika softly promised to return soon and share the cake together.
“You see,” the woman began, adjusting her collar, “you resemble his mother—not exactly alike, but there is a likeness. She brought him here two months ago upon learning her illness was untreatable. Denis’s father died while she was pregnant, and a week ago, she passed away. She had no relatives—no parents or close family. Her mother-in-law refused the grandson. She herself grew up here, was kind and good. Many wish to become parents, but Denis forms bonds with no one—except you; he ran straight to you. Children often sense who is close to them. You decide. You may leave now to avoid further trauma. Think it over calmly at home. That would be fairer.”
Nika remained quiet, clutching a handkerchief tightly. Within her heart, fear, compassion, and an almost physical urge battled to say: “We will take him.”
“We won’t even think about leaving!” Nika declared, casting a shy glance at Sergey.
“I believe Marya Alekseevna is right,” he answered calmly but firmly. “Every significant decision deserves time to reflect. This isn’t a purchase; it’s a child’s future. We must consider everything thoroughly, then act.”
“I’m thinking about Denis,” Nika protested. “He has spent so long without a mother, suffered, and now, if we leave, he will lose his last hope. If he believes he has found a mom and suddenly we vanish—that would be cruel. Sergey, please let’s take him!”
“But you know it’s not as simple as ‘take him and that’s it.’ Papers, background checks—it’s a long, complex process.”
“What if we register him for weekends first?” Nika turned to the director. “I heard that’s possible, like a trial period?”
Marya Alekseevna nodded. “Yes, that’s practiced. But honestly, children often suffer more later. They get attached, then left alone again. It hurts.”
“Then what should we do?” Nika tried to hold back tears. “I can’t leave him like this!”
“Listen,” the director suggested, “spend a day with him. Play, get to know each other. Then say you have to leave for some business. Go home, discuss it calmly. Tomorrow, we’ll decide what’s next.”
They agreed. Returning home, Nika’s heart swelled with anxiety and tenderness.
“Serge, I beg you,” she said, squeezing his hand. “Did you see how kind, gentle he is? He’s not spoiled or capricious. His mother’s illness isn’t hereditary. Most importantly, he chose me. How can we leave after that?”
“He chose you, Nika,” Sergey said softly and bitterly, “Not me.”
“But he didn’t know his father!” she exclaimed. “He’ll get used to you, love you. He needs a father, and over time, he will bond. As for me… I can’t live if we abandon him.”
They paused; Sergey stared out the window and sighed.
“Alright… let’s start with the paperwork. But don’t expect it to be smooth or easy.”
“I won’t,” Nika promised, pressing close to him. “Thank you.”
That is how Denis entered their home. Nika radiated joy. She helped Sergey try to build a bond with Denis, but it was difficult. He often stayed late at work, exhausted, craving peace and quiet. At first, Denis called him “dad,” as Nika had taught, but slowly stopped. He had enough maternal love, while Sergey grew increasingly distant.
After a year, the boy was kind, obedient, and eager to help around the house. One day, Nika felt so ill she missed work. Sergey took Denis to kindergarten, and she went to the hospital. Fear gripped her heart; for the first time, she realized that if something happened to her, Denis would be alone again.
To hasten the tests, she sought a private clinic. Results arrived quickly. When the doctor smiled and said,
“Pregnancy is not a diagnosis, Nika, but a condition to celebrate,”
her breath stopped briefly.
She returned home in turmoil, happiness mingled with worry. Was it a mistake? A dream? Yet, the document was real, and the doctor was firm: everything was fine.
That evening, Sergey brought Denis home, sat him down with cartoons, and, frowning at Nika, said,
“I missed important meetings. I explained I couldn’t attend. Remember, we agreed you’d handle kindergarten runs.”
“Don’t be upset, Serge,” Nika said gently, smiling. “We’ll need to adjust plans. Because… we’re going to have another child.”
“What?” Sergey raised his eyebrows sharply. “I never agreed to a second.”
“I’m pregnant,” Nika stated quietly but firmly. “We will have a baby.”
“Are you joking?” He stared. “That can’t be… or can it?”
“It can. Here,” she handed him the certificate.
Sergey read, froze, then chuckled,
“Well, that’s unexpected… Since we’re having our own, maybe Denis should go back to the orphanage.”
The words struck like a slap. Nika felt cold.
“Did I hear correctly?” she whispered. “Why would you say that?”
“What’s wrong with that?” he shrugged. “Now that we have our own, that’ll be enough.”
“Say you’re joking,” she pleaded, eyes glistening.
“Don’t count on it. We only took him because we had no children. Now we have one.”
“You’ve lost your mind!” Nika exclaimed, pain ringing in her voice. “This isn’t a political campaign prop! The child is already our son.”
“My son is the one you’ll birth. This one is a stranger—never was, never will be. Choose wisely.”
“I refuse to think about leaving him,” Nika stood tall. “Denis is my son, and I won’t abandon him. Ever. Understand?”
“So you’re prepared to betray me and our baby?” Sergey shouted.
“You made your choice,” she replied calmly. “I can’t betray you—and certainly not our baby. He comes after Denis became part of our family. I won’t split my children into ‘mine’ and ‘others.’ They are both my children. And you… you can leave.”
Silently, Sergey began packing. Feeling the tension, Denis ran to Nika, trembling as he clung to her.
“It will be okay, my boy,” she whispered, holding him tight as the door slammed behind her husband. “I won’t give you up. Ever. Mom loves you. We’ll manage—definitely.”
After Nika gave birth to a daughter, Sergey officially relinquished Denis and filed for divorce, demanding custody of the newborn. He had already found a new partner who, he claimed, would gladly accept the child.
In court, Nika faced her ex-husband steadily and said,
“Do you remember when you said, ‘A stranger will never be family?’ And now? Or will you discard my daughter when your new partner has a baby, just as you wanted to discard Denis?”
The court ruled in Nika’s favor; her daughter remained with her.
One day, watching Denis gently stroke his little sister’s head, Nika quietly whispered,
“Of course, we will manage. After all, I have such a wonderful helper.”
Key Insight: Family transcends biology—love and commitment build true bonds that define a home beyond blood.