«I never thought that a simple request from a neighbor could turn my life upside down. Work had me held up; I stayed in the office until 9 PM.
– Anton! Anton, wait!
I turned around at the entrance. Larisa from the fifth apartment was running towards me, holding onto her bag. Her chestnut hair was disheveled, and her face was frozen in that special kind of panic that only single mothers know.
– Anton, dear, help me out! – she tried to catch her breath. – I was called into work urgently, it’s an emergency, and Liza needs to be picked up from school; she was at evening classes.
I looked at the clock and stifled a sigh. 9:30, the couch and the TV series were fading away like smoke.
– Larisa, I… – I started, but she interrupted me:
– I know we hardly talk, but you’ve seen Liza, remember? She’s the little one with the red braids? The school is nearby, literally fifteen minutes…
Her voice trembled, and I knew I was done for. I’ve never been able to refuse a woman in tears, even if those tears were just about to start.
– Alright, – I gave in. – Give me the address.
– You’re a lifesaver! – Larisa beamed and quickly started dictating. – Write this down: school number 156, second floor, room 23. I’ll send Liza a message now that you’ll come. And here, take my number…
Five minutes later, I stood with a phone in my hand that held a voice message for Liza, thinking about what a mess I’d gotten myself into. I’d hardly ever interacted with children. What do you talk to them about? What do you ask?
The school greeted me with quiet corridors and the smell of chalk. Second floor, room 23… I knocked and peeked inside. The after-school group was ending, kids were packing their backpacks. I spotted the red braids immediately – Liza was sitting at the last desk, looking at me as if I was a suspicious character from a crime news story.
– Hello, – I tried to smile as friendly as possible. – I’m here from your mom.
Liza squinted:
– Are you really from my mom? She didn’t say someone would come.
– She did say, she did, – I pulled out the phone. – Here, listen.
Larisa’s voice from the speaker somewhat reassured the girl, but in the car, she still sat as far away from me as possible, clutching her backpack tightly.
– So, you’re the neighbor from the fourth apartment? – she asked after a few minutes of silence.
– Yes, the very one who always drops his keys at the door.
This elicited a faint smile from her:
– Ah, so it’s you who swears loudly afterwards?
I felt myself blush:
– Well… I try to do it more quietly.
– Mom says swearing is bad.
– Your mom is right.
We drove another block, and suddenly Liza said in a completely different tone:
– Did you know I was kidnapped?
I nearly crashed into a pole. I slowed down, turned around:
– What, excuse me?
– Kidnapped, – she repeated seriously. – From another family. I remember.
I nervously laughed:
– What are you talking about? Larisa is your mom.
– No, – Liza shook her head. – I mean, yes, now – yes. But there was another mom before. The real one.
– Liza…
– I don’t want to go home, – she suddenly declared. – Can we go to the park instead?
– It’s too late for the park.
– Then can we just drive around? – she looked at me pleadingly. – Please! I… I have so much more to tell you.
I gripped the steering wheel. My head was spinning with snippets of news about child abductions, family dramas, and dark stories hidden behind the doors of ordinary apartments. But this is Larisa, I thought. An ordinary woman, works in accounting, always greets… Though, to be honest, I knew almost nothing about her.
– Let’s go home, – I said as gently as possible. – Mom will worry.
– She’s not my mom, – Liza whispered so softly that I barely heard her.
We drove home in heavy silence. I tried to think of what to do next, but my mind was only filled with stupid jokes about homework and some trivial questions about school. And Liza… Liza just stared out the window, and in the light of the street lamps, her face seemed so grown-up and sad that it pinched my heart.
It seems I really got myself into a mess. And now definitely not the story I was expecting.
All night I couldn’t sleep. Liza’s words spun in my head like a stuck record. ‘I was kidnapped.’ Who teaches a seven-year-old such things? Maybe she watched too many horror stories on VK? But that certainty in her voice…
In the morning I overslept for work and spent the whole day nodding off over reports. At lunch, I dived into social networks – don’t even know why. I found Larisa’s page, began scrolling. Normal posts: cats, flowers, photos of Liza at school… Wait. I scrolled back a couple of years. There was another girl – dark-haired, older. In several photos, she was hugging a little Liza. The caption read: ‘My girls.’ But where was this second girl now?
– Anton, you could at least make yourself some coffee, – Marina from the next desk rolled over to me on her chair. – You look awful.
– Huh? Oh, yeah, in a minute…
– What, trouble with women? – she winked.
I chuckled:
– If only. Listen, you have a daughter about the same age… Do kids often make up stories about being adopted?
Marina thought for a moment:
– Well, mine once believed she was a fairy from a magic forest. And then she was convinced that we found her in cabbage, literally. She dug up all the cabbages at our dacha… – she stopped, seeing my face. – What’s the matter?
– Oh, just… – I waved my hand. – Kids’ fantasies.
In the evening, I bumped into Larisa at the entrance. She looked tired but smiled:
– Thanks again for yesterday. Liza talked about you all evening.
– Really? – I tried to sound casual. – What did she say?
– Oh, this and that, – Larisa dismissed it. – She’s a fantasist.
– Yes, I noticed… – I paused. – Listen, who is that with her in the old photos? The dark-haired girl?
Larisa’s face froze:
– Are you spying on my social networks?
– No, just…
– Just what? – her voice became sharp. – Decided to play detective? Or have nothing better to do?
– Larisa, I…
– Got something to say? Better mind your own business!
She turned and almost ran into the building. I stood there, feeling like the world’s biggest idiot. But a second later, the door opened again – Liza was on the threshold.
– Uncle Anton! – she rushed out to me. – Can I ask you for something?
– Liza! Get back here right now! – Larisa’s voice called.
– I need help, – the girl whispered quickly. – I have evidence. In a jewelry box, you know, a blue one…
– Liza!
– If you don’t help, no one will, – she thrust a crumpled note into my hand and ran away.
At home, I unfolded the note. In a child’s handwriting, it read: ‘I’m Anya. She took me from home. Help.’ And below – an address somewhere in a residential area.
I sat with the phone for an hour before I dialed the police number. The duty officer listened to me without much enthusiasm:
– So, the girl lives with her mother, attends school, no external injuries…
– But she says…
– Kids say all sorts of things. We had a case where a boy insisted his parents were aliens. Because they cooked green borscht.
– Listen, – I began to get angry. – What if it’s true? If…
– Alright, – the duty officer sighed. – Give us the details, we’ll check. But keep in mind – without serious reasons, we can’t interfere in family affairs.
The next three days I lived on pins and needles. I jumped at every sound in the hallway, tried to keep an eye on Larisa’s windows unnoticed. I saw Liza a few times – she was out playing in the yard, always under supervision. Once she waved at me, and Larisa immediately took her home.
Then the police called.
– So, vigilant citizen, – the voice was tired. – We checked your neighbor. The story there is really… complicated. But there’s no crime.
– What do you mean?
– Literally. Larisa Petrovna is the girl’s legal guardian. The biological mother gave up the child at the maternity hospital.
– What about the other girl? In the photos?
Pause.
– That’s not a phone conversation. Come to the station if you want details.
I went. And what I learned turned everything upside down – again.
It turned out that Larisa had a daughter. The real one – the dark-haired girl from the photos. Katya. She died three years ago – a silly accident at a pedestrian crossing. Larisa didn’t come out of depression for a year, then… then decided to become a guardian. Took a little girl from an orphanage. Liza.
– You see, – explained the young law enforcer, – she didn’t want to traumatize the child. Thought it better for Liza to consider her the real mother. But kids feel everything…
– What about the note? The name ‘Anya’?
– That’s fantasy. Probably watched some TV series or read too much. Kids often invent another life when they can’t accept reality.
I walked out of the station completely bewildered. The sun was setting, painting everything red – the color of Liza’s braids. Somewhere in my pocket, my phone vibrated – a message from Larisa:
‘We need to talk. Right now.’
I got into the car. The story wasn’t over, and it seemed the hardest part was still ahead.
The door opened immediately, as if Larisa was waiting behind it. The apartment smelled of freshly brewed tea and cinnamon.
– Come in, – she stepped aside. – Liza is asleep.
On the coffee table stood two cups and a box of candies. Everything looked like a cozy sit-down with a neighbor, if not for Larisa’s tense shoulders and her trembling fingers.
– I know you were at the police, – she sat in the armchair. – They called me.
– Larisa, I…
– No, wait. Let me speak. – She took a deep breath. – I should have told you sooner. Told you everything. But how do you explain to a child that the mom who carried you under her heart just… just left? And then there was Katya…
Her voice trembled.
– My girl. She was twelve, you understand? Twelve. We were coming back from music school, she had just learned a new piece… – Larisa clenched the armrests of the chair. – That driver didn’t even brake. Just sped through the red, and I… I couldn’t hold her.
I was silent. What can you say?
– I didn’t live for a year. I just existed. And then I saw a news piece about the orphanage. And there she was – Liza. So small, red-haired… not at all like Katya. Maybe that’s why I decided.
– But why didn’t you tell her the truth?
Larisa bitterly smiled:
– Thought it would be easier. For her. For me. I was foolish. She felt everything, understood everything… In her own way, childishly, but she knew something was wrong.
The floorboards creaked in the hallway. We turned – there stood Liza in unicorn pajamas.
– I’m not asleep, – she said quietly. – And I heard everything.
Larisa jumped up:
– Lizonka…
– You lied to me, – the girl’s voice rang with tears. – All the time you lied!
– No, honey, I…
– I hate you!
Liza turned and ran to her room. The door slammed.
– God, – Larisa collapsed on the sofa, covering her face with her hands. – What have I done…
I looked at the closed door of the children’s room:
– Can I try to talk to her?
Larisa nodded.
In Liza’s room, a night light was on, casting shadows of unicorns and butterflies on the walls. She herself lay curled up in a ball on the bed.
– Hey, – I sat down next to her. – Can I join you?
Silence.
– You know, when I was seven, I also thought I was kidnapped by aliens.
Liza snorted into the pillow:
– Not true.
– True-true! I even looked for marks from alien experiments. All because my parents worked late, and I thought they were… strangers.
She turned to me:
– And then?
– Then I grew up and realized: sometimes adults do stupid things. Not because they want to hurt, but because they love very much and are afraid of causing pain.
– Like La… like mom?
– Yes. She wanted what’s best. Just didn’t know how to tell you about your first mom. And about Katya.
Liza sat up in bed:
– Who is Katya?
I took a deep breath:
– Katya was your mom’s daughter. The one who’s now sitting in the living room and very worried. Katya died. And your mom missed her a lot until she met you.
– Where did she meet me?
– In an orphanage. Where children who need parents live. You were very little, and she loved you at first sight.
Liza fell silent for a long time. Then asked:
– And my first mom… she didn’t want me?
– I don’t know, kid. Probably had her reasons. But thanks to her, you met another mom. Who loves you more than life.
Larisa appeared in the doorway. Her eyes were full of tears.
– Mom, – suddenly said Liza. – Can I see Katya’s photos?
Larisa gasped for breath:
– Of course, honey. I’ll bring the album right now.
I quietly left. They needed to talk alone – mother and daughter. Real ones, no matter what.
A week later, I met them again at the entrance. Liza was enthusiastically telling a story, gesturing with her hands, and Larisa was laughing – easily, freely, as if a huge weight had been lifted from her shoulders.
– Uncle Anton! – Liza ran up to me. – Did you know I now have two moms and a sister in heaven? Cool, right?
I smiled:
– Very cool.
– And mom promised to take me to where I was born!
– Really?
– Yep! – she lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. – But don’t tell anyone, but it seems I was a princess there.
Larisa rolled her eyes:
– There she goes, fantasizing again.
But there was no fear in her voice anymore – only tenderness.
And I walked home, thinking: sometimes it’s enough just to be there. Listen. Understand. Not pass by. Because the truth, no matter how complicated, is always better than any beautiful lie. Even if you have to wait for the right moment to tell it.
Now, as I walk past their windows, I often hear laughter. And each time, I smile, remembering that evening when a simple request from a neighbor changed not only their lives but mine too.
And I no longer drop my keys at the door. Well, almost never.»
