— They’re not my children,» the husband screamed, shaken to the core. «Lada, they’re… dark-skinned! Who did you have them with? Who is your lover?! Don’t ever come back to my house, not even to cross the threshold! And don’t expect any financial support—it isn’t coming!
Lada had been unlucky all her life. She grew up in an orphanage where she had hardly any friends, and the people who came to choose a child for adoption never paid any attention to this modest girl, no matter how diligent she was. The only close person in Lada’s life was her nanny, Vera Pavlovna, who did everything she could to find adoptive parents for her. But all the attempts ended in nothing: for some reason, no one wanted to take home the quiet and shy girl. In the end, having lost all hope of finding a family, Lada began to wait for her eighteenth birthday.
Just before graduation, Vera Pavlovna decided it was time to tell Lada the story of how she ended up at the orphanage. When Lada was very little, she had often asked the nanny about her parents, but each time the nanny evaded the answer. And now, with the moment of confession having arrived, Vera Pavlovna invited Lada for a walk through the blooming yard and cautiously began the conversation.
— You were about one year old when they brought you here, she said softly, looking at the orphanage building. I remember that day as if it were yesterday. It was spring, the snow had just melted, and the weather had warmed. We were cleaning the yard, gathering leaves, when suddenly a police car arrived. They told us that you had been taken from a gypsy—their caravan was parked by the river, and they said they found you on the bank. Whether that’s true or not remains unknown, but for some reason, no one came looking for you. And you remained here.
She fell silent and looked at Lada, whose eyes were wide open.
— And that’s all? — Lada asked. — You know nothing about my parents?
Vera Pavlovna sighed heavily and lowered her head.
— Absolutely nothing, — she agreed, — neither about your parents nor any other relatives. It’s as if you fell from the sky.
Lada pondered for a moment, then slowly approached the swing and sat on it. She remained there for an hour or two until it got dark, contemplating what had happened many years ago. How did she end up on the riverbank?
After leaving the orphanage, Lada enrolled in a medical college. She was given a small apartment in a new building and found work as an orderly at the regional hospital so she could combine her studies with work. It was there that fate brought her together with Anton, a physician who immediately caught her attention. Anton was seven years her senior, always courteous, with kind features and a slightly tired look.
At work, Anton was constantly surrounded by women: several young nurses actively tried to win his attention. Rumors circulated that before Lada came along, he had a romance with the hospital’s endocrinologist Kristina, a real beauty. However, contrary to everyone’s expectations, Anton chose Lada. When their relationship became known at the hospital, the gossip intensified.
— And what did he see in her? — asked Lera, one of Anton’s most persistent admirers, — you can’t even look at her without tears! Skinny as a stick and dressing sloppily. Whoever undresses her ends up crying!
— She’s from the orphanage, — giggled Nastya, his former rival, — everyone from there is so odd, like idiots.
Lada heard these words but pretended not to understand whom they were talking about.
— Girls, back to work, — Anton interrupted their conversation as he approached Lada, — and I have important news for you.
After waiting until the nurses slipped out of sight, he continued:
— Tonight we’re having dinner at my parents’. It will be some kind of introduction. You understand?
Lada was stunned: already?! If Anton had decided to introduce her to his parents, then their relationship was seriously moving toward marriage.
That evening, Anton drove Lada, dressed in an elegant dress, to his parents’ home. They immediately began bombarding her with questions that put her in an awkward position. Anton’s father, Viktor Alekseevich, an anatomy professor, seemed to scrutinize her every move, which made her uncomfortable.
— So, you grew up in an orphanage, — he said, wiping his glasses and not taking his eyes off Lada, — that’s bad. Very bad. The absence of parents has a severely negative impact on one’s personality.
Anton’s mother, Ida Vitalyevna, a former cardiologist, supported her husband, despite her son’s reproachful looks.
— Yes, it really isn’t good, — she added, — and why, if you don’t mind me asking, wasn’t anyone able to adopt you?
Lada choked on her lemonade and almost dropped the glass.
— I don’t know, — she mumbled, trying to hold back tears, — it wasn’t up to me.
Viktor Alekseevich, seemingly tired of the subject, switched the topic by asking his son some medical questions. Meanwhile, Ida Vitalyevna began questioning Lada about her interests. The woman felt the tension rising inside her, and the spacious apartment seemed to shrink around her, ready to crush her like a small spider.
— Excuse me, I need to go, — Lada couldn’t hold it in, — I have a term paper…
She jumped up from the table, and Anton followed her. He walked her to the entrance and offered her a ride, but Lada refused.
— I’ll take a taxi, — she grumbled, greedily inhaling the cold air, — see you tomorrow.
Anton grabbed her hand and pulled her close.
— Don’t mind my folks, — he said, trying to soothe her, — they drive me mad sometimes. They both have difficult tempers.
Lada carefully freed herself from his embrace, wished him good night, and headed for the bus stop. All she wanted was to be as far away from that house as possible. The mere presence of Anton’s parents aroused such intense dislike in her that she never wished to see them again under any circumstances.
Fortunately, Anton never invited her to his parents’ again. Soon he proposed, and then took her to live with him. The wedding took place a month after the proposal, when Lada was in her second month of pregnancy. At the festive table, she felt the disapproving looks of Anton’s parents and colleagues, and a chill, like a winter wind, swept over her. The only source of warmth at the celebration was Vera Pavlovna, who rejoiced for Lada and made toast after toast.
After the wedding, Lada continued working at the hospital, but when the baby began to make his presence known, Anton insisted that she quit her job. Her belly grew noticeably, and one day Anton speculated that she might be carrying not one child, but perhaps twins. They never did the ultrasound—deciding instead to keep the suspense for a popular “gender party.”
Three weeks before her due date, Lada gave birth to twin boys. When the midwife showed them to her, Lada froze in astonishment: the children were dark-skinned, as if someone had dipped them in chocolate. The medical staff were equally stunned, and the doctor tried to calm Lada.
— You know, I once had a child born dark, — the doctor hurried to assure her, — but after a few days, everything went back to normal, the skin color returned to usual.
Lada was more worried about her husband’s reaction to the children’s appearance. She requested that they be kept under observation for a while and not shown to Anton immediately.
— If everything is alright with them, you won’t be able to hide them for long, — the doctor warned, — better prepare him in advance.
And so Lada did. In her innocence, she was confident enough to even take a DNA test.
— So, are these definitely my children? — Anton exclaimed when he saw the twins. — If this is some kind of joke, it’s not funny at all!
He abruptly stepped back, nearly stumbling. Lada handed the children over to the midwife and asked that they be left alone with Anton.
— I never expected you to be capable of such a thing, — Anton said once they were alone. — I, a fool, trusted you! I ran errands, made preparations, and you… What a snake you are, Lada!
Lada’s heart seemed to stop.
— They’re your children! What are you talking about if I’ve always been right in front of you?
Anton turned away and walked to the window.
— Your parents were right about you, — he said slowly. — And I always defended you. I don’t know who you got pregnant by, but now look for help from him. I won’t live with you anymore!
Vera Pavlovna arrived in a car from the hospital. She took Lada and the children into her home. The nanny made sure not to leave her former charge alone, fearing that she might do something foolish.
— Tell me, why do you have such children? — Vera Pavlovna once asked as she rocked the cradle with the sleepy twins. — You’re white, and Anton is too. And yet they are dark. Strange, isn’t it?
Lada looked at her bitterly and sobbed.
— Now you’re joining them, too, — she said wearily. — I thought at least you’d believe me…
She covered her face with her hands, and Vera Pavlovna gently stroked her back.
— I do believe you, I truly do, — she smiled. — It’s just really astonishing.
But Lada had no time to be amazed. Anton had left her, and she had no idea how to raise two children now. Work and studies were out of the question, as was her former life.
— Don’t worry, we’ll manage somehow, — Vera Pavlovna said, noticing the gloomy look on Lada’s face. — We’ll get through this!
To distract herself from everyday troubles and the breakup with Anton, Lada found a small side job online. For a few hours each day, she wrote promotional reviews on various websites. It didn’t bring in a lot of money, but Vera Pavlovna’s pension and the child benefits somehow kept the family afloat.
Vera Pavlovna took care of Igor and Sasha—that’s what Lada named the twins. She fussed over them as if they were her own grandchildren and hardly allowed Lada near them.
— Rest, — Vera Pavlovna would say every time Lada approached the children. — I’ve got them under control.
Lada didn’t object. The responsibilities of caring for the twins had a positive effect on Vera Pavlovna: she seemed to have grown ten years younger, stopped complaining about back pain, and generally blossomed.
— I’ve been thinking a bit, and here’s what I’ve decided, — one evening, Vera Pavlovna said while sitting in her armchair with a newspaper. — Maybe your ancestors were dark-skinned? It happens sometimes. Dark-skinned people sometimes have light-skinned children.
Lada tore herself away from the keyboard and smirked.
— My ancestors? Dark-skinned? — she replied skeptically. — From where? That’s nonsense.
With a serious expression, Vera Pavlovna set aside her newspaper and asked for a taxi to be called. She said she needed to bring an important item from the apartment. She returned with a small briefcase containing old newspaper clippings. She rummaged through them for a long time and finally found the needed article. Putting on her glasses, she began to read aloud.
At first, Lada didn’t understand what was going on. The article recounted the story of an elderly local woman who had lost her daughter. According to the article, the daughter had drowned in a river when she was just over twenty, leaving behind a small child who was with her at the time of the accident. By the time the rescuers and police arrived, the child was already gone. The woman had pleaded with anyone who knew anything to come forward.
There wasn’t much else of interest in the article, and after reading it, Lada had only one question—why had she just heard all this?
— And why did you read that to me? — Lada snapped at Vera Pavlovna. — What does that have to do with me?
Vera Pavlovna shrugged and smiled.
— Maybe it’s her looking for you, — she cautiously suggested. — After all, you were found near that river. I heard you met the missing woman’s acquaintance. I think you should visit this woman and find out everything.
Lada glanced at the newspaper.
— Lidiya Fyodorovna, — she read the woman’s name. — She lives not far away, on the next street.
She wrote down the phone number and leaned back in her chair, unsure of what to think.
After a few days, Lada decided to call Lidiya Fyodorovna and arrange a meeting. She suggested meeting at a café, but it turned out that Lidiya Fyodorovna hadn’t left her home for a long time because of illness, and Lada had to go to her instead.
Lidiya Fyodorovna lived in a small apartment on the first floor, its windows overlooking a large wasteland cluttered with garbage. She moved about in a wheelchair. Her face was as pale as gauze and smooth despite her advanced age.
— You look so much like my Sveta, — she said as soon as Lada entered. — I’ve been waiting for news from you for so long…
Lidiya Fyodorovna invited Lada to sit down, then took a yellowed photograph out of an old sideboard, its plastic frame showing signs of wear.
— Look, — she said, handing it to Lada. — Don’t they look alike?
Lada looked at the photograph and felt as though she were looking into a mirror. In the picture, it was her—but with light hair and a short hairstyle.
— This is Sveta, my daughter, — Lidiya Fyodorovna explained, tapping her finger on the glass of the frame. — And it appears that you, in turn, are my granddaughter…
Lada mustered the strength to tear herself away from the photograph and set it aside.
— Tell me everything, — she pleaded softly. — This is very important to me. For me and my children.
At the mention of children, Lidiya Fyodorovna’s eyes sparkled, but she quickly looked down, embarrassed, shifting in her chair.
— It’s a long story, — she said, tucking her hands under the cover on her lap. — I can’t remember much anymore; it was so long ago. Listen.
Lada held her breath as Lidiya Fyodorovna began to tell the story of her daughter.
It turned out that Lada’s mother had been a capricious and fickle girl, like an autumn day. She performed averagely at school and later entered university to study architecture. During her studies, she met a young man named Vincent, who was dark-skinned and had come from France to study. Sveta helped him learn Russian, and over time she fell in love with him. Vincent, too, fell for her, and they planned to move in together in his country.
Lidiya Fyodorovna and her late husband Pavel had tried desperately to dissuade their daughter from marrying a foreigner. But Sveta stubbornly shook her head, insisting that once she finished her studies, she would follow her beloved. Time passed, and as Sveta’s love for Vincent grew stronger, her parents decided to intervene. One day, Pavel intercepted Vincent near the university, pulled him aside, and brutally beat him, strictly forbidding him from seeing his daughter, threatening even worse consequences.
However, Vincent was not one to back down. He did not resist the father of his beloved, merely smiling slightly through the pain.
— Your daughter carries my child under her heart, — he pronounced with a noticeable accent, — someday this little one will know about me.
Pavel, upon hearing this, erupted in anger and demanded that his daughter terminate the pregnancy. But Sveta firmly refused. In the end, Pavel expelled her from the house. Sveta left, and her parents never saw her again—until one day her body was found in the river, and the official version was that she had committed suicide. As for Vincent’s fate, it remained a mystery. The only thing her parents knew about him was preserved in her notebook: an address, a photograph, and the word “love” written in her hand.
— I knew Sveta had a daughter, — Lidiya Fyodorovna said, her gaze fixed on one spot as she turned halfway toward Lada.
Her face remained expressionless, like a mask.
— A stroller was found on the bank with a doll, and then both the child and all traces disappeared. I was so frightened that I kept silent and didn’t cause a scene.
She wiped her tears and shook her head for a long time, as if trying to dispel heavy memories.
— Pavel died almost immediately after those events; he had a heart attack, — Lidiya Fyodorovna continued, lowering her head, — and I was paralyzed… I haven’t been able to walk for nearly twenty years now.
Lada got up and poured her some water. Lidiya Fyodorovna gulped down the glass and went back to the old sideboard. She rummaged in its depths for a long time and, having found what she needed, returned to Lada.
— Here, — she said, handing over a worn-out notebook, — everything that remains of your parents.
Lada took the notebook and carefully tucked it into her pocket.
The search for her father took many years for Lada. She sent out letters, published announcements online, and made acquaintances with Frenchmen, hoping to find even a clue. After several years of unsuccessful attempts, fate finally smiled upon her: one of her posts received a reply from an elderly Frenchwoman who claimed to know Vincent personally.
Lada pleaded with the woman to pass her contact information to him, and the woman agreed. Soon, Vincent wrote, and then called. Thus began their correspondence. First they spoke on the phone, and then the long-awaited meeting occurred—Vincent arrived. For Lada, that meeting was a turning point in her life.
It turned out that in France Vincent successfully ran his own business.
— I never built a family, — he admitted, — so I’ve remained single. I learned that your mother was no more when I was back in my homeland. Mutual acquaintances informed me… I looked for you for a long time, even contacting the embassy, but without success. You look remarkably like her! You know, daughter, for the first time in many years I feel happy. I know I am not alone. I have you and my grandchildren.
The little ones instantly won over their new grandfather’s heart. Vincent spent a week at Lada’s and then left, promising to visit as often as possible. He saw how difficult it was for Lada to cope with life on her own. Vera Pavlovna had told him about the situation with Anton.
— Lada’s husband didn’t believe her, — the old woman would sigh, — did not acknowledge the children. I took her from the maternity ward. At first, they lived with me, and then she returned to her apartment. It’s fortunate that the state helps orphans, or else things would have been really tough.
Even after returning home, Vincent did not forget about his daughter. One day he called and asked for her bank details. When Lada provided them without a second thought, a large sum in foreign currency was deposited into her account a few days later. Immediately, the woman called her father back. Vincent explained:
— I want you to never have to lack anything! That sum will be enough for you to start your own business. You are a determined young woman; I’m sure you will succeed.
Lada spent a long time choosing a direction for her business, and she settled on a private medical clinic. She lured the best specialists by offering them a decent salary and kept her word. Thanks to the professionals’ expertise, clients came in droves. In just a few years, Lada outpaced all her competitors and achieved financial well-being. She did not forget her own grandmother and moved Lidiya Fyodorovna into a private nursing home where she was given top-notch medical care. As for Vera Pavlovna, she was settled in a large house outside the city that Lada had purchased. Essentially, it was the elderly woman who managed the household while Lada spent most of her time at work, having entrusted the twins to the nanny.
Communication with her father continued. Now, not only Vincent but Lada herself visited him in France a couple of times a year. As for Anton, there was no word of him during all this time: not once did he call or inquire about the children’s well-being. The divorce was finalized, and Lada did not try to hold on to a husband who never believed her.
The meeting with her ex-husband occurred by chance. An ordinary morning at work began with a scandal: the administrator had peeked into the director’s office and asked her to come down to the reception.
— Lada Vensanovna, please speak with a client. She insists on your personal presence!
— What happened? — Lada inquired.
— She is not satisfied with the price. An elderly lady, accompanied by her son, underwent a comprehensive examination, received recommendations and diagnoses. You know that our specialists are always honest with the patients! The client insists that even half of the sum is too much. We offered a discount, but she flatly refuses, stating that she doesn’t need any handouts.
Lada closed her office door and went downstairs. To her surprise, the scandalous client turned out to be her former mother-in-law, Ida Vitalyevna. Anton was standing next to her. They recognized each other immediately, and Ida Vitalyevna turned pale:
— You? You’re the director here?! Anton, pinch me. I can’t believe my eyes…
— Good afternoon, Ida Vitalyevna. What’s going on? Why are you making a scene?
— Ahhh, — Ida Vitalyevna sighed, — now everything is clear. That’s why the prices are so high! Because the one running this place is a swindler who tried to ruin our family!
Lada was at a loss. She had no desire for her private life to become the subject of discussion among colleagues and subordinates. Fortunately, Anton unexpectedly intervened:
— Mom, let me see you to your car? I’ll come back and handle this issue myself. You mustn’t worry—your heart might fail you again.
Anton led his mother away, then returned. He paid for the examination and, to Lada’s astonishment, ascended to her office.
— May I come in? — he asked, knocking on the door.
— Come in, — Lada permitted. — Do you have any questions for me?
— I want to communicate with the children, — Anton said suddenly. — I know they’re mine. I’ve always known it…
— How so? — Lada smirked.
— I did the tests back at the maternity ward. The head of the department allowed them to take the biological material. How are they doing? How are they?
— That’s none of your business, — Lada snapped. — My children don’t know you, and I don’t want them to. I have enough evidence to strip you of any rights: you have never been a part of their lives, not once did you give them a penny! Where were you these six years? Leave, Anton, we have nothing to discuss.
— I am their father, — Anton insisted. — I have rights…
— A father is someone who raises the children, — Lada retorted. — And you’re just a stranger. I’ve said it all. Go away!
Lada was determined to deprive her ex-husband of any rights over her sons. She did not want his children or his parents to know them. She no longer needed anyone’s help—now she had her father. And her mother, Vera Pavlovna, had always been by her side.»
