A Turn of Fate: The Unexpected Gift from Nastya’s Grandfather
Nastya was completely unprepared when the notary’s call came through. The word inheritance echoed unexpectedly, stirring faint memories of her grandfather—Pyotr Danilovich. Although he was her paternal grandfather, after her parents divorced, she had lost all connection with that family branch. Her mother remarried quickly, and as a result, Nastya grew up with three father figures but had not forged close bonds with any. Never once did she imagine receiving an inheritance, especially from someone she barely remembered.
“Why would he leave everything to me?” she wondered aloud while sitting in the notary’s office, masking her bewilderment. “We never exchanged a word. I don’t even recall meeting him.”
The notary could only offer a shrug, suggesting the reason was unknown. “Apparently,” he stated flatly, “there are no other relatives.”
Stepping outside, emotion overwhelmed Nastya as tears streamed down her face. It dawned on her then—this sudden gift was more than just unexpected; it represented a beacon of hope at a time when everything else in her life had crumbled beneath her.
Once she reached adulthood, Nastya’s mother and stepfather seemed to retreat from their responsibilities, moving to a southern town to live leisurely, leaving Nastya to fend for herself. Struggling academically, she failed to find a stable income source. Life morphed into an unending labyrinth devoid of clear direction.
Her workplace—a high-end clothing store—introduced her to Pasha, who appeared genuinely enamored with her. After enduring years marked by solitude and despair, she longed to believe in the possibility of love. He quickly voiced his intentions:
- “Quit that sales job,” he urged early on. “A wife of mine won’t work retail. If you get bored at home, we’ll discover other pursuits.”
Hope felt easy to grasp then, so she resigned, moved in with him, and even sold her own room, relinquishing all safety nets one by one. Six months together passed with Pasha consistently delaying marriage, reassuring her, “Don’t rush; I’m not leaving.”
However, when she revealed her pregnancy, his demeanor abruptly changed. Expressions of shock and displeasure crossed his face.
“What surprise is this? A child? Forget about that,” he said coldly.
Nastya was stunned. “What do you mean? The baby is already here. It can’t be undone.”
He snapped, “Are you that foolish? Why would I get involved with someone like this? Fix it soon—I don’t want children.”
“So, you don’t want me either?” she asked, tears falling.
“I think you’re right. I’m better off without you and your troubles,” he replied dismissively.
Left with nothing—having sold her room and left her job—she faced bleak prospects. No employer would tolerate a pregnant woman, and soon financial ruin threatened her living situation. Desperation forced her to take a cleaning job, a position that required no medical disclosure. She chose secrecy, clinging to faint hopes of assistance, perhaps governmental aid or Pasha’s eventual change of heart—though she knew such hopes were likely futile.
Then, as if fate intervened, news about the distant inheritance arrived, washing over her with tears of relief. It was the first real sign of fortune in a long while.
The bequeathed property wasn’t a city apartment or a grand house but a rural dwelling not far from the city—an unknown place to Nastya. She traveled there on her day off, contemplating selling it or using it as a summer retreat.
The taxi ride was marked by grumbling: “What would anyone want in this wasteland? The road’s broken. I won’t risk my car.”
“Is the village deserted? Do people even live there?” she asked, a tinge of sadness in her voice.
“If anyone’s around, they don’t take taxis,” the driver replied.
Arriving, Nastya found the exterior of her grandfather’s house tolerable, yet the inside revealed decay—floors ripped up, walls damaged, and furniture destroyed, seemingly vandalized. It was hard to imagine her grandfather living under such neglect.
Asking a local elderly woman, she inquired about villagers. “People do live here,” the woman said. “Gardeners come in summer, but winter empties the place. I’m leaving soon too.”
“Who could have destroyed my grandfather’s home like this?” Nastya asked incredulously.
“No one watches the house; maybe someone came by, but I didn’t see anything.”
Faced with no alternatives, Nastya returned home, grateful for the grandfather’s memory despite the meager gift. She resolved not to speak ill of him. Pyotr Danilovich was an artist—not famous but skilled enough to sell paintings and make a living.
Living in a ruined house would only be viable if she could restore it— a daunting challenge that demanded resources she lacked.
A chance encounter with Pasha in the city turned sour—he sought to push her out. Taking a job as a security guard where she had worked, he spread rumors. Soon, her employer summoned her:
“You’re pregnant, aren’t you? Why didn’t you disclose this at hiring?”
“I thought…”
“Sorry, but I can’t deal with maternity cases. You’ll work for now, but it’s trouble I don’t want.”
Nastya lost her job, a devastating blow. With a visible pregnancy, new employment seemed impossible, and eviction loomed. Giving birth and enduring the earliest hardships became her sole focus.
Abandoned, she turned to the inherited village house—the last sanctuary available.
Arriving, she noticed a man near the home, who promptly left on her approach. She had no time to investigate and began cleaning despite feeling overwhelmed. Just as hopelessness crept in, a stranger knocked.
He was an ordinary man, not intimidating, likely working locally. “Good day, madam,” he said politely. “Are you here to live or just visit?”
“What do you want? This is my house.”
“Maybe you need workers. I go around offering help. Don’t worry, I’m just a man seeing a woman alone and guessing she might need assistance.”
“Help is welcome, but I can’t pay much.”
“No immediate payment needed; we’ll talk later. I’ll start by clearing out the trash. You rest—this place is charming.”
Nastya ignored the charm and, sitting on the porch bench, drifted into a light sleep. The helper, Denis, worked tirelessly collecting debris.
Unbeknownst to Nastya, Denis faced grave problems. He desperately needed a large sum of money, lacking even a fraction of it. A passerby sympathized and paid off part of his debt with one condition: Denis must find an item hidden in the abandoned village house and hand it over.
Thus, Denis arrived at Nastya’s grandfather’s property, where they began working together, slowly bonding through shared hardships. Denis kept his secret mission hidden out of shame but soon was confronted by two men who violently confronted him at the house. Nastya intervened, wielding a rake to fend them off.
“We don’t need police. They came for me,” Denis admitted.
He revealed the men searched for a stolen icon his grandfather had once hidden, originally brought to him for restoration but intended to be returned to the church. With Pyotr’s passing, the icon remained concealed. Denis was hired to locate it.
Moved by this story, Nastya and Denis confessed their feelings and vouched to build a secure future together.
Meanwhile, the attackers recruited Pasha, who attempted to infiltrate Nastya’s life again but failed. In vengeance, Pasha attempted arson on the village house, disregarding the risk to his unborn child.
Fortunately, Denis escaped with Nastya as the house burned, leaving them homeless but fiercely determined.
“The house burned down, but this land is ours,” Nastya said resolutely. “We’ll rebuild. People often help fire victims; let’s seek their support.”
Denis agreed, and they began clearing the ruins, hearts renewed.
Unexpectedly, an elegant woman arrived, searching urgently for Denis. The elderly couple revealed a profound secret: Denis was their biological son, switched at birth. Though they had raised another child, they had long sought their true son.
Despite the joy of reunion, Denis chose to remain with Nastya, intent on restoring their home rather than moving to the city with his newfound parents. The couple pledged their support, providing resources and help.
Construction began promptly, with Denis actively involved while Nastya watched. During rebuilding, a worker discovered a covered well with a rope holding a sealed bucket.
Pulling it up, they found not treasure, but the revered icon of the Holy Mother of God.
Nastya said firmly, “We won’t sell this; it belongs back in the church where it was originally stolen.”
Returning the icon reaffirmed their belief in a future blessed with happiness and peace.
Life flourished in the new home. Denis’s father helped him secure employment and introduced him to a trustworthy friend. Nastya gave birth to twins—healthy boy and girl—ushering a new chapter of joy and stability.
Key Insight: This poignant story reveals how unexpected inheritance, resilience amid hardship, and discovery of true identity can transform lives, paving the way for hope and happiness.
In sum, Nastya’s journey was one of pain, betrayal, and loss, counterbalanced by surprising fortune, new love, and family reunification. It underscores that even in darkest times, unwavering spirit and unexpected kindnesses can illuminate the path toward renewal and fulfillment.