Do you remember that last shift, when that girl gave birth here? The one who was screaming so crudely—asking why all of this was happening to her. She was swearing filthy— not every man could talk like that. It was downright unpleasant to hear it coming from a woman!”
“I remember. What about her?”
“She signed the refusal, abandoned the baby, and left. What a bitch!”
The bus jolted, and Nadya almost dropped her phone.
She remembered that girl. She hadn’t even had a particularly difficult labor, but she’d screamed like she was out of her mind. And when she delivered, she cursed again when she found out it was a boy—then added that it was a good thing it wasn’t a girl, because his life would be easier.
Men always have it easy!
Nadya lifted her eyes thoughtfully and saw a plump woman and a little boy standing in front of her. He was clutching his mother’s coat.
They were dressed simply, but cleanly; the woman wore an old-fashioned wide raincoat.
Nadya didn’t immediately realize the woman was pregnant. When she did, she jumped up at once and offered, “Please, take my seat!”
The boy immediately tugged his mother’s hand, quickly showed her something with his fingers, helped her sit down, and then explained to Nadya, “My mom can’t hear. Thank you.”
Nadya felt sorry for him.
They probably lived poorly, she thought, and she pulled a chocolate bar from her purse. She always bought one for herself—sometimes after a shift she’d get weak, and chocolate helped.
“Thaaank you!” the boy said, stretching out the words. He carefully took the chocolate and smiled gratefully. “Don’t think we don’t have a dad— we do! He’s deaf and mute too, but I’m not. We live fine, and soon I’m going to have a baby sister.” The boy looked proud and happy as he gazed at his mother—and she looked back at him.
“You have a very beautiful mom—the very best—there’s no doubt about it! And you’ve got a dad, and you’ll have a little sister—you’re a very rich boy,” Nadya told him sincerely.
She kept watching them—people really could be so beautiful in their quiet happiness.
She almost missed her stop.
The boy shouted something after her, but she was already jumping off the bus; the door nearly caught her.
Nadya wasn’t late for work.
“Can you imagine it? That cuckoo actually has a husband. Well—she filed for divorce right before giving birth, decided it all in advance—can you believe it?!” the midwife, Zinaida Petrovna, greeted Nadya in the pre-labor ward. She was furious.
She was the one who had called that morning—she still couldn’t calm down.
“And the baby boy is so sweet—nine points on the Apgar scale!”
“What can you do,” Nadya tried to soothe her. “Come on, let’s go check the new ones—what do we have?”
Who knew why some people were given children they didn’t want, while those who dreamed of a family and kids suffered alone?
Zinaida Petrovna cut herself off and silently patted Nadya on the shoulder. She shouldn’t have gotten so worked up—she knew Nadya had been married, but they’d separated. Her husband wanted children, but Nadya couldn’t give birth—people said it was because she’d been sick as a child, some complication. Or maybe her husband simply didn’t love her. Either way, it was a painful subject for Nadya.
Later, Nadya saw the boy’s father.
He came to find out when he could pick up his son. Overweight, clumsy, with slightly bewildered eyes, he looked like a big child himself.
“Look at that—the daddy is someone else, not like that cuckoo. Decent. And you can tell he’s no ‘alpha’—but he came for his son. Asked how to take care of him, trying not to show how scared he is,” Zinaida Petrovna nudged Nadya and quietly pointed to a large man around forty.
He came to take the baby during Nadya’s shift, and she couldn’t hold back. She approached him.
“If you have any questions, just ask. Here’s my phone number. My name is Nadezhda—I’m a doctor in the pediatric department. If anything comes up, call me.”
“Thank you. My name is Nikolai,” the man smiled—but then they brought him the blue bundle, and he didn’t even know how to hold it.
Nadya felt sorry for him and asked, “Do you at least have anyone to help you?”
“No. My mother and father are in the village. They didn’t like Oksanka. They said I shouldn’t marry her—that she wasn’t for me. Later I understood it myself… but I don’t even want to tell them. I’ll manage on my own. I arranged leave, and I’d been saving money for the baby. Oksanka didn’t know about it.”
“You’re doing great. And tomorrow a pediatric nurse will come from the clinic, so don’t be afraid,” Nadya encouraged him.
“I’m not afraid!” Nikolai said confidently and gently pressed his little son to his chest.
But his eyes said the opposite—he was clearly scared, and no wonder. Even young moms don’t know what to do with a newborn, and he was a man.
All the rest of that day Nadya kept thinking about Nikolai and his son. How were they managing? And really—he’d bought things himself, decided to raise the baby alone. A good man. Not everyone could do that.
She was itching to call him and ask how they were. Nikolai had left his number too, so it would be clear who was calling.
For some reason, she suddenly remembered that boy on the bus.
He had the same serene, kind look as Nikolai. He’d looked so warmly, as if he was simply happy to be alive and grateful for every day—though his mom and dad were deaf and mute, and life was probably harder for him than for others. He was dressed simply, but his eyes were happy.
But kindness isn’t measured in money—it lives in a person’s soul, or it doesn’t exist at all.
If Nadya could have a baby of her own, she would be happy too. How wonderful it was to hold them—she’d chosen this work because she loved children. When children are born, it’s astonishing, it’s a kind of miracle.
Nadya’s hand was already reaching for her phone to dial Nikolai, when the phone suddenly came alive and a melody played—he was calling her himself.
“Nadezhda, excuse me… it’s Nikolai—if you remember, you must have so many like me,” he began, stumbling, and his voice was drowned out by a desperate baby’s cry.
“Nikolai, what happened?” Nadya was glad to hear him.
“He won’t eat. He just cries and cries,” Nikolai said helplessly, clearly upset. “What do I do? Please tell me.”
“Where do you live? Give me your address. Not far from the maternity hospital? I’m coming now—wait for me. My workday just ended anyway.”
Nadya adjusted her hair in the mirror. For some reason she was very nervous—and at the same time she felt happy, strangely so.
As she walked to Nikolai’s place, she remembered the boy from the bus again. And he had shouted something after her when she hurried out.
Back then Nadya thought she hadn’t heard him properly, but now it was as if his clear, ringing voice sounded again in her head: “Thank you, you’re so kind—may your children be well too!!!”
“What children?” Nadya thought, trembling with a vague, sweet premonition. But she immediately stopped herself—what nonsense. Those were just polite words…
Nadya didn’t even have time to touch the doorbell, Nikolai opened the door already, as if he’d been waiting right there.
He looked miserable. The baby was red all over, kicking his legs.
“Where can I wash my hands?” Nadya’s pediatrician instincts switched on—but besides that, there was something else, something different.
It was the first time she’d held a baby in her arms with no mother nearby. And because of that, the baby felt like he was a little bit hers. It was an absolutely wonderful feeling.
“He isn’t even crying with you… how do you do that?” Nikolai peered shyly over her shoulder, watching in admiration as she deftly changed the boy, wiped him with wet wipes, put on a clean diaper and little outfit.
And later, when the clean, fed baby began to fall asleep in Nadya’s arms, Kolya looked at her as if she were a Madonna with a child…
“Maybe you could come by again sometime… although you probably have a husband and kids at home, you’re busy?” Nikolai asked quietly in the hallway.
“I’ll come. And I don’t have a family—don’t worry,” Nadya promised as she left, and she saw joy in his eyes.
She rode home feeling renewed, as if she too had tasted a drop of motherhood’s happiness. When the baby fell asleep in her arms, she suddenly imagined, just for a second, that it could have been like that—her beloved husband and her, Nadya, feeding and putting their little son to bed together…
In the days that followed, Nadya kept stopping by Nikolai’s—her feet simply carried her there on their own.
And she told herself she was only helping a person with a baby. But in her heart she was already waiting to see him.
“What did you name him?” Nadya asked on the second day.
Nikolai looked at her helplessly. “I don’t know. There was no one to talk it over with. What do you think—what name suits him?”
Nadya even laughed. “I may be a pediatrician, but I have no experience naming babies.”
“Neither do I, Nadya. So let’s come up with it together. And let’s switch to ‘you’—maybe enough with the formalities? Now the closest people I have are you and my son!”
They named the boy Dimka—a warm, cozy name. And it turned out Kolya had a grandfather named Mitya, and Nadya had a grandfather Dmitry Konstantinovich!
When Nikolai got his divorce, he immediately proposed to Nadezhda.
It was so obvious and natural—they were almost always together, the three of them: Nikolai, Nadya, and their little Dimka.
Nadya found her happiness.
She never thought something like that could happen to her. There had been no hope at all—she’d been told many times that she would never have children.
But maybe it wasn’t for nothing that her name was Nadezhda—Hope.
When Nadya got pregnant, she didn’t even understand it at first—she couldn’t believe her happiness. She took countless tests; it all felt like a lucky dream!
Now Nikolai and Nadezhda have two children: their son Dimka and their daughter Dina.
Sometimes Nadya remembers that happy boy with his mother on the bus with special feeling.
And it seems to her that it was he who foretold it—and somehow, with his bright child’s soul, even drew toward Nadya that unimaginable, longed-for happiness of her whole life.
