“Svetlana Alekseevna, don’t be lonely! We’ll be back in two weeks,” Darya Andreevna said with a warm smile, standing at the doorway.
The housekeeper nodded; a slight worry flashed in her eyes, but she only sighed and, as always, tried to keep composed:
“Oh, I’m no child. Rest well, don’t worry about anything. Everything will be fine. You know that.”
“Well, of course I know! After all these years, I’ve understood: you can be relied on for everything,” said Darya, hugging the woman warmly and sincerely like a friend.
“Maybe I should call a taxi?”
“Yes, yes, I’m coming!” Darya laughed, adjusting the shawl on her shoulders.
Vladimir Nikolaevich, standing nearby, winked at Svetlana Alekseevna:
“Svetlana Alekseevna, we’ll keep in touch!” he said in a kindly tone, trying to ease the tension of parting.
“Oh, just go already, Vladimir Nikolaevich!” she laughed back, waving her hand, though there was a hint of sadness in her voice.
The employers went out, closing the gate behind them. Svetlana watched them until their car slowly drove off and disappeared around the corner. She stood a little longer, then took a deep breath and turned back toward the house.
Good people, these employers. Kind, gentle, fair. They have everything: wealth, a cozy home, love for each other… but the main thing is missing — children. It didn’t work out for them, apparently. And no matter how much they tried, fate kept making it clear: it was not given to them.
Svetlana Alekseevna had worked in this house for more than five years. From the first day, she loved this place — cozy, bright, alive. She came here without recommendations, almost by chance, out of desperation.
Having lost her son — her only child, who left too early, taken by a cruel illness — she was left alone. And soon after, her daughter-in-law, who at first seemed kind and caring, started treating her coldly. The space that was once shared became alien. The apartment, once gifted to her husband by his parents, was registered to her son, and now the woman felt superfluous.
“This can’t go on,” she decided then. She didn’t argue or fight. She just left. Left the house filled with memories and pain and found refuge here — among people who accepted her without questions.
When she honestly told Darya Andreevna about herself, the latter just shook her head:
“How can that be? A person loses a son, and instead of sympathy — mockery and disdain…”
She stayed. With lodging. Worked tirelessly, tried to be helpful, but never crossed boundaries. Over time, a trusting relationship formed between them, and Svetlana felt almost at home in this house.
But now, left alone, she recalled the last words of Vladimir and Darya. They were on their way to another procedure related to infertility. After several unsuccessful attempts, Darya said firmly to her husband:
“That’s it, Volodya. I won’t do it anymore. Age, strength, nerves… And maybe God or someone up there decided that we are meant to live without children.”
These words haunted Svetlana Alekseevna. She felt sorry for this woman who so wanted to become a mother but could not. And it became especially bitter when she herself remembered what it was like to be a mother — to be one and to lose one.
Several days passed. The employers were away, and Svetlana allowed herself a bit more freedom: she watched a movie, sat in the garden, even decided to tend to the flower beds — she had long wanted to put them in order. The garden was well-kept, but the gardener was careless. Until a new one was found, she would take care of it herself.
One evening, when the sun was already setting and the air had grown cool, she was sitting in the gazebo reading a book. Suddenly, she heard footsteps and sharply lifted her head.
A girl stood before her. Small, thin, dressed in worn clothes, hair messy, face pale, eyes frightened.
“Oh my God!” gasped Svetlana. “How did you get here? The fence is tall!”
“I… I slipped under the fence, there’s a hole,” the girl’s voice trembled. “Can… can I sit with you for a bit? I’m scared to be alone…”
Svetlana was at a loss. She looked closely at the child and noticed she was dressed too lightly for the evening. But the most alarming were the bruises on her arms — clearly not from playing. They were finger marks from an adult.
“Sit here, little one, in this chair.”
The girl carefully sat on the edge, glancing around as if fearing someone might appear.
“My name is Svetlana Alekseevna. And yours?”
“Sasha. Alexandra.”
“Beautiful name. Did you run away from someone?”
“If I tell you, will you not send me away?”
“No, of course not. Just tell me who’s hurting you?”
Tears swelled in the girl’s eyes, but she blinked them away.
“My dad died a long time ago. I barely remember his face, though everyone says I look very much like him. And my mom died right after I was born. Then dad married Yadviga… She’s… she’s not a person, she’s a beast. When other people are around, she smiles, speaks kindly, but when it’s just the three of us — hell begins for me. Her son, my ‘brother,’ beats me. He says I’ll die soon, and then he and mom will be happy. And Yadviga repeats: ‘I hope you rot! You’re such a nuisance to us!’”
A chill ran down Svetlana’s spine. She listened without interrupting, feeling sympathy and indignation growing inside.
“I can’t go out alone. They punish me for it. They’re afraid I’ll tell someone. And today they left for three days, forgot to lock the door… I saw the hole under your fence and ran. I was so scared… But I had to leave.”
Svetlana looked at the girl and felt something turn inside her heart. Like a younger version of herself, grown from pain and fear.
“Oh, Sasha… Are you hungry?”
“I ate today,” the girl answered uncertainly, but there was a note of doubt in her voice.
“Let’s go inside. I’ll feed you and warm you up. It’s cold outside, and you need to rest. And together we’ll think about what to do.”
The little guest followed her like a lost puppy. She ate slowly, mechanically, and within minutes began nodding off. Fatigue took over.
“Come on, I prepared a place for you on the couch in my room. Sleep, little one. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
Sasha fell asleep instantly as soon as her head touched the pillow. For the first time in a long time, she slept without fear, without anxiety — just like a child allowed to be safe.
So they began living together. Almost a week. Svetlana knew it wasn’t right. That the girl was probably being searched for. That if anyone found out, she could be accused of kidnapping or breaking the law. But how could she give the child back to hell?
She herself had gone through something similar in childhood. She had a stepfather — cruel, cold, hungry for power. She remembered how every morning started with fear. How adults didn’t believe her words. How she was accused of trying to ruin her mother’s happiness. How they told her: “Don’t be selfish. Your mom found some happiness, and you want to take it away.”
That’s why she couldn’t let Sasha go. Couldn’t.
But the employers were to return very soon. And Svetlana understood — a decision had to be made. One, the right one. But which?
She thought day and night. Weighed every possibility. To contact child protective services — meant giving the girl back into the hands of those who torment her. To notify the police — would close the case, but not in the right way. To keep her — meant risking everything, including her freedom.
But for this child, maybe it was worth the risk.
She didn’t want this! She never wanted her mother to be happy with him. But how to explain that to a child? How to say that the man she tried to smile for was not a salvation for her mother but a trouble? Svetlana Alekseevna sighed, feeling in her chest the same heaviness she felt many years ago when she was a little girl praying for a miracle — that someone would notice her pain.
Suddenly, a sound interrupted her thoughts. She stepped onto the porch and froze. From a taxi, as if stepping out from a painting of memories, came Vladimir and Darya. They were supposed to return only tomorrow!
“Svetlana Alekseevna! We missed home so much… and you too! We won’t go anywhere anymore!” Dasha exclaimed, lightly stepping down the path.
Vladimir laughed:
“You say that every time we come back from a vacation.”
“Well, spin around then! How good it is to be home!” Darya twirled like a girl, but Svetlana could not share her joy.
She glanced at the house. Behind its walls, in her room, Sasha was sitting watching cartoons. The little girl she had hidden from the world, protected from cruelty, was now in danger.
“Svetlana, is something wrong?” Vladimir looked at her closely, as if sensing there was more behind the “welcome back.”
“No… nothing. Welcome,” she answered, trying to keep her voice even, though her heart was pounding in her throat.
She went inside first, slowly opening the door so Vladimir could bring in the suitcases. At that moment, Sasha dashed out of the room. Seeing strangers, she pressed fearfully against Svetlana.
Silence hung in the air. As if someone stopped time.
“Who is this?” Vladimir stepped forward cautiously.
“This is…” Svetlana didn’t have time to answer.
“Svetlana Alekseevna, who is this with you? Doesn’t look like a granddaughter…”— Darya looked closely at the girl’s face — “and the age fits…”
But before anyone could continue, Vladimir suddenly stopped, staring at Sasha:
“Is your name by any chance Sasha?”
Darya knelt before the girl, eyes wide with amazement:
“Volodya… it’s her! It’s Sasha!”
“Sasha, how did you end up here? Where’s your dad? Where’s Yadviga?” Darya’s voice trembled.
Svetlana saw the girl cling to her as if seeking protection. Her heart tightened.
“Vladimir, heat up some tea for everyone. We are so tired… But you really know how to cheer us up,” said Darya, not taking her eyes off the child.
Everyone gathered at the table. Svetlana began telling how Sasha appeared in the garden, about the bruises on her arms, about her fears and tears. When she reached the word “dad,” Darya gasped, and Vladimir went to the window, turning his back to everyone, as if he needed to retreat inside himself.
When she finished, he turned:
“Stepan, her father, was my best friend since childhood. Until Yadviga appeared in his life.”
“You left, Sasha? Didn’t you live in another city?” asked Darya.
“We returned two months ago. Yadviga sold our house. So we moved.”
“Sold it? And dad didn’t transfer the ownership to her?”
“Dad didn’t transfer anything! She’s my guardian. She keeps saying she’ll find a way to get rid of me and become rich.”
Vladimir paled.
“How can someone say such things to a child?!”
Darya stood up:
“Sasha, come on. You don’t need to listen to all that. It’s too grown-up and very scary. Want me to do a pretty hairstyle for you?”
The girl trustingly reached out her hand. At the doorway, Darya paused:
“If I understand correctly, the child is being searched for. And sooner or later they will find her. So, we need to act fast.”
When they left, Vladimir turned to Svetlana:
“She didn’t even tell me about Stepan’s death!”
“Did you argue?”
“Yes. His new wife claimed I was harassing her. She wanted to remove me from their lives and keep Stepan away from everyone dear to him. I didn’t understand why. Sasha is my goddaughter. They left then, and Stepa said he didn’t want to see me anymore. He was hot-tempered but quick to forgive. I thought — time will pass, he’ll call. But then I got angry myself: if he doesn’t want to — then fine. It was silly… Maybe he needed help, and I just didn’t hear.”
The light burned late in the house. The adults discussed the plan. Sasha had been asleep for a long time, lulled by warmth and safety. In her sleep, she smiled — Darya had braided her hair in braids she had only dreamed of. And promised another hairstyle in the morning…
“Sasha,” Darya quietly said, stopping in the doorway, “I really don’t like my husband’s idea.”
“First, I’ll be nearby,” Vladimir replied. “Second, that’s the only way we can quickly solve the problem. If we drag this through court, it could take a year. And Sasha will have to live there all that time.”
The girl perked up:
“I agree, Uncle Volodya! I don’t want to live there. And I’ll try to tell as much as I can.”
They prepared carefully. Specialists carefully attached a microphone to Sasha, set up a camera on her school backpack. Everyone was sure one meeting would be enough to prove everything in court.
Everything happened exactly as expected. Only they didn’t consider one thing — Yadviga would hit Sasha immediately. The first blow knocked the backpack out of her hands, the camera caught it all. The second hit caught the stepmother off guard — Vladimir grabbed her arm.
“You wretch! You don’t know what I’m ready to do to make your life hell now!” he whispered, squeezing her wrist.
Yadviga recoiled, pale:
“Where… where did you come from?”
While the courts went on, Sasha stayed with Vladimir and Darya. Vladimir obtained temporary guardianship, arranged documents so the girl could live safely with them. She called Svetlana Alekseevna “grandmother,” and once, accidentally, called Darya “mom.” She blushed, apologized, then got scared.
Darya cried for a long time, silently, clenching her fists as if afraid the moment would disappear. Then she hugged Sasha:
“If you want to call me that — call me. I’ll be only glad. Honestly.”
When Vladimir returned home, Darya asked him to come to the office:
“Vova, I need to talk to you.”
He tensed. Thought she wanted to try IVF again. But Darya read his thoughts:
“No, not about that. Sasha called me ‘mom’ today. By accident. Without preparation…” Tears fell again down her cheeks.
Vladimir exhaled with relief:
“Are you afraid I’ll be against it?”
“What do you think? What will you say if we officially adopt her?”
He hugged his wife tightly, as if wanting to convey all his love, gratitude, and acceptance through his embrace.
“You’re so good… I wanted to talk to you myself. But didn’t know how to start. Stepa was my friend nearly all my life. I should have understood sooner what was going on. But now I won’t let this girl lose a family. Never again.”
This story became the beginning of a new path for everyone. For Svetlana Alekseevna — a path of redemption and motherly love. For Vladimir and Darya — a path to a family they created not by blood, but by heart. And for Sasha — a path to safety, to trust, to what she never knew: a real home.
Sometimes the most important bonds arise not where you expect them. Sometimes family is not what you’re born into, but what you choose with your heart.
