Lori (2025)

24/03/2025

Other People’s Children…
The children would often leave the house in tears and hungry, finding refuge in Sultan’s doghouse, curling up against the warm side of the big shaggy guardian who had become not just their protector, but a real nanny—and even a second mother…

It so happened that Nikolai Sergeevich ended up alone in a spacious house on the outskirts of the district center—just him and his two small children. All household responsibilities fell entirely on his shoulders. He worked as the chief engineer at a motor depot and sometimes had to take trips to source parts, equipment, and machinery. If it weren’t for kind-hearted Pakhomovna, an elderly helper, he would’ve had to either quit his good job or send the children to an orphanage.

The younger daughter, Nina, could hear but didn’t speak. Doctors advised waiting until she turned six and, if there were no improvement, to place her in a specialized institution. Nina couldn’t bear to be separated from her brother Sasha, who, although only a year older, understood her perfectly without words. Because of this, neither child attended kindergarten.

But Sasha wasn’t the only one who understood little Nina. In the yard, in a doghouse, lived Sultan—a large, shaggy dog with a stern nature. His powerful bark could rattle windows. He only accepted Nikolai and Pakhomovna, strictly fulfilling his role as guard. Anyone else who crossed the fence was seen as an intruder.

Yet to the children, Sultan was a true friend. They would ride on his back like a horse, crawl into his doghouse, dress him up in old clothes from their father, and play with him for hours. Sultan gladly joined in their games and mischief.

Nikolai often noticed Nina whispering things to the dog. Sultan would listen attentively and, as if answering her, would lick her hands and face, making the girl burst into joyful laughter. Nikolai believed that mute Nina and stern Sultan understood each other completely.

Pakhomovna, though warm-hearted, was growing older and frequently complained about her health.
“Nikolai Sergeevich, it’s time you remarried. Raising kids alone is hard, and I can’t help the way I used to. Age is catching up with me,” she grumbled, though always with concern.

During the November holidays, an old colleague came to visit Nikolai. Over dinner, they had a heartfelt talk, and Nikolai walked his friend to the station. To kill some time, they stopped by the local canteen, where behind the counter stood a smiling woman in her mid-forties. That’s how Nikolai met Galina.

From then on, he would often stop by the canteen and walk Galina home to her rented room in an old house. She told him she had moved from another region, had no children, and her husband had died in the war.

Soon Nikolai invited her over. Galina arrived well-dressed, with treats and gifts. She spent the whole day playing with the kids, drawing, and reading fairy tales. Nina and Sasha quickly warmed up to the cheerful woman. Only Sultan remained unfriendly—growling and refusing her treats.
“He’s just not very sociable,” Nikolai reassured her.

By New Year’s, Galina moved in with her belongings. They officially registered their marriage, and she quit her job to become a homemaker. She loved the spacious house and began tidying everything—washing windows, rearranging furniture, beating out the rugs.

Nikolai felt happy. The house was cozy, the children cared for. But over time, Galina started getting annoyed with the kids. They took up her free time, got in the way of socializing, relaxing, and enjoying herself.

She dropped the act of being a loving stepmother. For laughing or talking, she would punish the children by locking them in the small pantry. She forbade Sasha from telling his father anything—threatening him with violence.

The children began to avoid their stepmother, hiding in Sultan’s doghouse. Only beside the dog did they feel truly safe…
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24/03/2025

106 Days Adrift at Sea: How a Shark Saved a Man Who Drifted in the Pacific for 15 Weeks...
From the young man's account:
I was hiding from the sun under a piece of fabric I had stretched over the bow of the boat. In my sleep, I felt a strong jolt followed by sounds like something was scraping against the boat. When I opened my eyes, I saw a massive 6-foot shark (around 1.8 meters) swimming around me — but mostly, it was ramming the hull of the boat... Read the rest in the comments👇👇👇

23/03/2025

"I saved a she-wolf, and she saved my children" — a story worthy of a film...

Somewhere deep in Alaska, amidst endless coniferous forests and snow-covered trails, grew up Dmitry — a boy who, from an early age, was captivated by wolves. He could wander the woods for hours following his parents, freezing at every distant howl. "They’re like spirits... beautiful, free, untamed," he would whisper, clutching his father’s hand tightly. But the years passed, and adulthood came: school, work, family. His childhood dream seemed to dissolve into routine.

Many years later, Dmitry found himself once again at the forest’s edge — this time with his own sons. The boys tumbled through the snowdrifts, laughing and catching snowflakes with their tongues. "Dad, look! Something’s shining!" — the younger one pointed to a metallic object poking out from under the snow. But before Dmitry could respond, the air was pierced by a long, mournful howl.

A she-wolf was lying in the clearing. Young, with thick gray fur… and her paw caught in a steel trap. A crimson pool was spreading in the snow. "Stay back," Dmitry firmly told his sons, stepping forward carefully. The she-wolf growled, baring her fangs, but he didn’t retreat. He spoke calmly, confidently, just like his father once did: "I’m not your enemy… I’ll help you…" And then — a miracle. The growl faded, and the warmth of the wolf’s tongue brushed his hand…

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22/03/2025

Kostya trudged home from work, hiding his frozen hands deep in his pockets. Snow was falling as if the sky had decided to dump everything it had at once—huge flakes swirled endlessly, clinging to his eyelashes, sneaking down his collar. The wind blew from all directions, lashing his cheeks so fiercely they had long since gone numb. His scarf had slipped to the side, and Kostya, snorting, tried to fix it.

"What a damn winter," he muttered through clenched teeth, glancing around in search of at least some shelter from the blizzard. His face was covered in a thin layer of snow, and it felt like any moment now he’d turn into one of those snowdrifts lining the sidewalk.

He had almost reached the entrance to his building, already feeling the keys in his pocket, when suddenly, behind him, a barely audible voice reached his ears:

"Help me..."

Kostya froze. At first, he thought he imagined it—wind could carry all kinds of sounds. But something twisted in his chest. He turned around, scanning the deserted, snow-covered yard—no one in sight. Snow stung his face, the trees creaked from the cold, and only a distant streetlamp flickered faintly in the dark.

"Help me..." came the voice again, a little louder but still very weak.

A wave of anxiety washed over Kostya. He took a few steps toward a tall snowdrift by the road, and what he saw made his heart sink.

Lying right in the snow, almost completely buried, was an elderly woman. Her coat was far too thin for such weather, and her hat had slid off to the side, revealing her gray hair. Her face was pale, her lips blue from the cold, and her hands rested on her chest, as if trying to warm herself.

"Ma’am!" Kostya dropped to his knees beside her. "What happened? How did you end up here?"

The woman barely opened her eyes—fatigue and pain were written all over them.

"My leg... I think I broke it..." she whispered, barely moving her lips.

Her voice was so faint he had to lean in close to hear her. It was clear she had been lying there for a long time, and the frost was taking its toll.

Wasting no time, Kostya pulled out his phone. His hands were shaking, fingers stiff and clumsy, the screen slippery. He dialed 112 and pressed the phone to his ear.

"Hello, ambulance? There’s an elderly woman here, I think she broke her leg, she can’t get up. The address is..." he quickly gave the details, glancing at the woman to make sure she was still conscious.

Looking around, he realized she wouldn’t get warm like this. Without hesitation, Kostya took off his coat and gently covered the woman, trying to shield her as best he could. Snow immediately began settling on his sweater, but he didn’t care.

"Hang in there, ma’am. Help’s on the way. Everything will be alright, you hear me?" he said gently, doing his best to reassure her.

The old woman gave a faint nod, trying to smile through the pain.

The ambulance arrived sooner than expected. A white van with a red cross emerged around the corner, its headlights lighting up the yard before stopping near Kostya and the woman.

A medic, a man around forty with a tired but focused look, quickly approached, knelt beside the woman and began his examination. His hands moved confidently and carefully.

"Most likely a fracture," he stated briefly. "She needs to go to the hospital."

Kostya immediately stood up.

"I’ll come with you!" he said firmly, but the medic shook his head.

"Don’t worry, young man. We’ve got this. You’ve done enough already."

Kostya didn’t argue. He knew he’d only be in the way. He looked at the woman, now lying on the stretcher. She glanced back at him—her eyes full of gratitude, warm and sincere, impossible to express in words.

He waved to her, feeling his throat tighten.

"You’ll be alright, ma’am. You’re in good hands now."

The ambulance doors closed, and the vehicle slowly drove away, leaving tire tracks in the fresh snow. Kostya remained standing in the empty courtyard, once again feeling the chill. But inside, there was warmth—because sometimes, all it takes is to stop and help.

The next morning, Kostya sat in his kitchen, slowly sipping strong coffee. Outside, the snowfall continued, as if the night had never ended. Cold light filtered through the curtains, casting a cozy semi-darkness across the room—the kind that made you not want to go anywhere.

He had nearly finished his sandwich when the phone rang. It vibrated on the table, causing the spoon in his cup to clink softly. Kostya frowned—the number was unfamiliar. Usually, such calls brought nothing good: spam or someone from work. But something nudged him to answer.

"Hello?"

"Is this Konstantin?" a male voice asked on the line, serious, a little hoarse.

Kostya was surprised. The voice wasn’t familiar, and he tensed.

"Yes. Who’s this?"

"This is a doctor from the hospital. You helped an elderly woman yesterday," the man said calmly.

Kostya paused for a moment, recalling the events of the previous day. The image of the old woman came back—her pale face, blue lips, frozen hands.

"Yeah, I remember," he answered, uncertain.

"We thought you were her grandson," the doctor continued. "She called you ‘my boy’ and held your hand when we were taking her in. She’s at the hospital now, and she needs a few things. Could you bring them?"

Kostya was taken aback. He had just helped—anyone would’ve done the same. But something tugged at him inside. How could he say no?

"Alright," Kostya sighed. "Tell me what she needs."

The doctor dictated a list: slippers, a robe, warm socks, and some basic medication. Kostya quickly jotted everything down, thanked him, and hung up.

He sat for a moment, staring into his now cold coffee. Thoughts swirled in his mind: why me? But that grateful look in the woman’s eyes was still fresh.

"Okay then..." he muttered and got up.

He got ready quickly. Threw on his coat, pulled his hat down tight, and headed out. The frost bit at his cheeks, but not as sharply as the day before. He reached the store in ten minutes.

He walked slowly among the shelves, studying each pair of slippers. Picked the warmest ones with a soft lining. Then found a blue robe with a simple pattern, bought the medicine, double-checking the list several times to make sure he didn’t forget anything.

At the checkout, he paused by the cookie section. Picked up a pack of “baked milk” cookies—his grandma used to buy those. And a few mandarins—they smelled like holidays.

"What if she has no one else to help her," Kostya said softly as he packed his purchases.

His heart felt a little lighter, like he was doing the right thing—even if he didn’t fully understand why.

When Kostya entered the hospital room, his footsteps echoed off the cold walls. The room was small, dimly lit by the dusty window, and smelled strongly of medicine. On a white hospital bed, in the midst of all that grayness, lay that same grandmother...
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21/03/2025

"How long have you had someone else?" Natalia asked, holding back tears.
"Bunny, what are you saying?" Vadim mumbled in fear. "There's nothing going on! You've misunderstood everything and jumped to the wrong conclusions! I'm telling you—there's nothing!"

He truly was scared. The threat of inconvenient change loomed before him. Having a fling on the side was one thing, but losing the familiar, comfortable life with a wife he'd spent thirty years with—that was another.

Natalia and Vadim met in university, started dating, and quickly realized how good they were together. With their parents' blessing, they decided to get married. It was the tough 1990s, when money was scarce, so they organized the wedding on their own. Natalia’s aunt sewed her dress, they celebrated at home—pushing the furniture aside, borrowing tables and chairs from neighbors. Guests understood things were tight, so they brought whatever food they could. Vadim’s uncle even flew in from Vladivostok with fish and caviar.

It turned out to be a heartfelt, warm celebration. Friends and family wished them a long, happy life together. And it truly was happy—five years ago, at their silver anniversary, Vadim and Natalia fondly remembered that day: the joy, the guests, the love. They had spent 25 years in harmony, and it seemed like many more were ahead.

But in the 31st year of marriage, Natalia received an anonymous email. It claimed her husband was seeing a young colleague named Valentina—and this was no innocent flirtation. "Be careful," the sender wrote. "Or you'll be left without a husband."

At first, Natalia dismissed it. She almost showed the message to Vadim to laugh about it together. But something stopped her. She decided to investigate herself.

The next day, she followed him. The email had details—time, place. And it was all true. During lunch break, Vadim left the office arm-in-arm with a younger woman. They drove a few blocks, entered a gated yard, and disappeared.

The next day, Natalia again took time off, to her boss’s confusion. She returned to that same spot, hiding under a hoodie and dark sunglasses.

This time, she saw them enter a building. She waited. Her phone rang endlessly, but she ignored it.

When Vadim finally came out—relaxed, satisfied, and alone—Natalia ran up and slapped him so hard he nearly fell. That evening, his meek excuses began.

"Just tell me the truth! Your pathetic lies are worse than the betrayal itself!" she shouted.

Vadim sighed heavily. Their intimacy had faded in recent years. They even slept in separate rooms. The kids were grown: their older son, Maksym, had moved to the coast, got married, and had a daughter. The younger, Dmytro, lived with his girlfriend in Dubna. Vadim felt like the family had dissolved. They were still married on paper, but in reality, everyone lived separate lives.

Then Valentina appeared. At first, it was just lunches, chats, laughter. She was 20 years younger. She gave him energy. And then, things crossed the line. He never thought Natalia would find out. And he certainly didn’t want to lose her.

"Okay, I’ll admit it! Just please don’t leave me!"

"I can't promise anything!" Natalia yelled. "I'm in so much pain I can barely breathe! And you’re just—"

"But nothing happened!" Vadim suddenly shouted. "You didn’t want me! I’m a man, I have needs!"

"Oh, that’s it? I thought it was a mutual decision! If it was so important, you should have told me!"

"But you didn’t want to!"

"Don’t shift the blame! Pack your things and go to your Valentina!"

"Never!" Vadim suddenly dropped to his knees. "Forgive me! I’m begging you!"

"Oh God... Poor woman. She meant nothing to you? Then why were you with her? And get up! Don’t humiliate yourself!"

Sighing, he stood up.

Natalia was empathetic. She imagined being in Valentina’s place—a woman who possibly meant nothing to the man. Or maybe she didn’t care and just wanted someone. Then why choose a grown man when there were younger ones?

Natalia knew one thing: she couldn’t forgive. Not now. She needed time. She decided to take it—by going to her older son, to the sea.

"I'm going to Maksym. I’ll take unpaid leave. If they won’t let me, I’ll quit!"

"In February? To the sea?" Vadim asked, surprised.

"Don’t talk to me! I’m furious!"

Still, he followed her around like a shadow—offering coffee, a blanket, any small comfort. Once, he tried to come closer, but Natalia looked at him so coldly he backed away. She bought a train ticket and called her son. She actually had to quit her job. She couldn’t work, couldn’t stay under the same roof as Vadim. She waited for her train and left for Novorossiysk, where her son had promised to meet her.

His wife, Dasha, picked her up from Gelendzhik. She was local. They had met in Moscow when Dasha visited as a tourist. At first, Natalia hadn’t been thrilled—an energetic girl had taken her son. But later, she realized living by the sea wasn’t a bad deal. And now she had someone to visit—no need for hotels.

"Where’s Olesya?" Natalia asked.

"At daycare."

"Are you serious? She’s only two!"

"It’s a private daycare. Max and I both work a lot. If you want, we can bring her home during your stay."

Natalia thought and politely declined.

"I’ll watch her in the evening."

"Oh, you’ll get your fill!" Dasha laughed. "She’s so quick! We can’t keep up!"

Natalia bit her tongue to avoid commenting that the child took after her mother.

Dasha brought her to their house—a spacious four-room home with a large living room. Natalia got a bedroom at the end of the hallway.

"Wow, you really built a little palace here!" she said, surprised.

"We took out a huge loan from the bank! But it’s comfy. Natalia Mikhailovna, make yourself at home. I’m rushing back to work, but I’ll be back with Olesya in the evening. Here’s a key. Food’s in the fridge. If you want to go out, here’s the address—you won’t get lost. By the way, what happened?"

Natalia flinched. The question was too abrupt.

"Nothing happened. Why do you ask?" she replied, forcing a smile.

"Okay. Don’t want to say—don’t say," Dasha shrugged and rushed off.

Natalia went to her room, lay face-down on the bed, and finally let herself cry. She hadn’t shown weakness in front of Vadim, and she couldn’t cry on the train full of strangers. But here, alone in her son’s house, she sobbed into the pillow.

She didn’t even notice when she fell asleep. Loud voices woke her.

"Where’s Grandma? Are you crazy?!" a child’s voice yelled.

"I don’t know either! Dasha, where’s my mom? Tell me now!" Maksym shouted.

Natalia realized it was her son. The child must be Olesya. Her granddaughter—she’d only seen her once, after birth. She rushed to the living room.

"Hi, sunshine!" she said, beaming at the little girl.

The child looked confused.

"Mom... you need to wash your face!" Maksym said, gesturing at his own.

Natalia dashed to the bathroom. Oh no! She’d cried herself to sleep with makeup on. What a sight! She washed up, and when she returned, Dasha had already set the table. Olesya played with a big doll. The TV murmured in the background.

"Ah, much better!" Maksym smiled, hugging her. "Have you lost weight?"

She really had. After discovering Vadim’s betrayal, she’d hardly eaten. The stress had stolen her appetite.

"Tell me everything," Maksym said over dinner. "You and Dad never travel separately."

"Not in front of the child!" Natalia glanced at her granddaughter.

"She’s busy doing her own thing. But I’m worried. About you both."

Natalia shrugged and took a bite of salad. Her appetite returned. But she suddenly realized she hadn’t considered one thing: her children would ask what happened. What would she tell them about their father? Read the continuation in the comments👇👇👇

20/03/2025

Anna couldn't believe her ears. What she heard when she unexpectedly arrived at her mother-in-law's house felt like a terrible nightmare. Leaving things as they were was impossible. Something had to be done immediately!

"Have I really been living in an illusion all these years? Trusting a traitor?" she whispered to herself as she made her way home. She didn’t even let her mother-in-law know about her visit.

It was her last day of vacation. She had finished all her errands and finally decided to visit Halyna Hennadiyivna to help hang the curtains, as she had promised.

"Anya, I can't manage on my own. My back hurts, my hands don’t work properly. You’re on vacation, help me!" her mother-in-law had pleaded a few days earlier.

"Halyna Hennadiyivna, wouldn’t it be easier to call a cleaning service? They’d wash the windows and hang the curtains too," Anna tried to evade the task.

"Are you serious? Do you know how much money that would be? I’m not used to wasting money!" her mother-in-law snapped.

"I’ll pay for it," Anna offered, just to avoid spending a day of her vacation on this.

"No. I don’t want strangers in my house. You’ll come when you can," Halyna Hennadiyivna insisted.

And so, deciding to keep her promise, Anna called her mother-in-law, but there was no answer.

"Alright, I’ll just go anyway. She’s home, where else would she be?" Anna shrugged.

She dialed her husband’s number to let him know she might be late, but Dmytro didn’t pick up either.

"Great. No one wants to talk to me," she muttered, leaving the house.

But what shocked her the most was seeing her husband’s car parked outside his mother’s house.

"Dmytro is here too? What, did he come to hang the curtains?" she smirked bitterly.

Climbing up to the third floor, Anna noticed the front door slightly open. Voices could be heard inside. And next to the entrance stood a baby stroller.

"Whose stroller is this? What’s going on here?" she thought, feeling uneasy.

She stepped inside, but upon hearing a tense conversation between Dmytro and his mother, she decided not to reveal herself and froze in the hallway.

Then, another woman’s voice joined in. And the sound of a baby crying made Anna’s heart stop.

"Dmytro, are you serious? You want them to stay with me? How am I supposed to explain this to your wife?" Halyna Hennadiyivna asked indignantly.

"Just tell her you're renting out a room. It’s only temporary," Dmytro replied.

"With a baby?" the mother-in-law scoffed. "Look at him, he’s completely spoiled!"

"I told you from the very beginning—buy an apartment for me and Zhorik," the unfamiliar woman interjected. "But you don’t care about us."

"Zhorik? His own son?" Anna’s head started spinning.

She was about to step out of hiding, but something held her back. A burning desire to hear the full truth.

"Vika, understand, I can’t right now," Dmytro tried to justify himself.

"So, we have to wait again? We’re living like homeless people while you live comfortably with your wife!"

"So that’s how it is… And my mother-in-law knew everything!" Anna’s chest tightened with rage.

"And how exactly are they supposed to live here?" her mother-in-law sighed disapprovingly.

"You think I’m happy about this? Living with some stranger is such a thrill!" the mistress snapped.

Anna couldn’t take it anymore. Her heart pounded in her chest. Now she knew everything. And this betrayal would not go unpunished...

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20/03/2025

So as not to disgrace herself, a village girl decided to live with hunchbacked Vasyl. But when he asked her for something, she was at a loss.

— Vasyl, is that you?
— Yes, mother!
— Vasylko, why so late?
— Mother, I was at Dima’s, we were studying together.
— Until it was dark outside?
— Forgive me, mother, for keeping you up.
— You weren’t visiting a girl, were you?
— No, mom, don’t say such nonsense.
— But you’re a good-looking young man, you must have someone!

Vasyl was not married. And he was far from handsome. Short, hunchbacked, with long arms that almost touched the ground, and a large curly head.

Vasyl and his mother Halyna had moved to the village permanently a long time ago. Back then, he was just a little boy, resembling a small monkey.

— Your Vasylko won’t survive, — old woman Taya used to mutter.

But he did survive, growing stronger, as if gripping the earth with his short legs. For Halyna, he was her only comfort, as she had no one else left. She had worked as a baker all her life, a hard job that wore down her health, and one day, she fell ill. Vasyl cared for her as best he could, but soon she passed away.

After his mother’s death, the villagers supported the young man. Over time, boys who were interested in radio engineering started gathering at his house. Vasyl himself worked at the local radio station. Eventually, girls began visiting too. They had long conversations over tea—nothing improper.

One day, Vasyl noticed that one girl stayed longer than the others. One evening, when everyone else had left, he asked her:

— Why aren’t you in a hurry to go home?
— I have nowhere to rush to, — she replied sadly. — My stepmother, three brothers… For now, I live with a friend. My father drinks, and my stepmother doesn’t care about me at all. Here, with you, at least I don’t think about the bad things.

— Then stay here for now. My mother’s room is empty, you can live there. I won’t ask anything from you in return.

And so, Arina stayed with Vasyl. At first, people gossiped, but then they quieted down. The girl was beautiful, but Vasyl was a human being too. As they say, looks aren’t everything. Besides, Vasyl was a skilled and intelligent man.

Soon, Arina gave birth to a son. The whole village wondered—who did the child resemble?…

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10/02/2025

I found a girl on the street, no one was looking for her, so I raised her as my own.
You know, sometimes fate presents such surprises that you spend your whole life wondering—how did it all end up this way? I still remember that chilly October day when I was returning from the market in the neighboring village. Back then, buses were so rare, and I had to walk, cursing to myself about the broken road and the heavy bags of potatoes.
At forty-two, I lived alone, if you don't count Barsik, a ginger cat who, honestly, looked more like a small pillow with a sassy face. After my divorce, things hadn't worked out either with my personal life or with children. I worked at the village library, knitted socks in the evenings, and watched TV shows—just the typical life of an ordinary woman from the backwoods.
I was just figuring out if I had the strength to drag these damn bags home when I noticed her. A little figure in a thin jacket was sitting under an old oak tree, hugging her knees. At first, I even thought I was seeing things—who in their right mind would leave a child alone between villages in such weather?
'Girl, who do you belong to?' I called out, approaching her.
She lifted her head—a pale little face, frightened eyes, and silent. She just wrapped herself tighter.
'Are you lost? Where are your parents?'
Silence. Only her lips trembled.
'Lord, you are completely frozen!' I set down the bags and sat next to her. 'My name is Tatyana Ivanovna. And what's yours?'
'S-Sonya,' she whispered faintly.
'Sonya, will you come to my house? I'll make you some hot tea, you'll warm up, and then we'll figure out where you're from.'
She timidly nodded, and I, grabbing the bags with one hand, took her icy little hand with the other. So we went—I, puffing under the weight of the potatoes, and she, trotting alongside like a little sparrow.
At home, the first thing I did was wrap her in a blanket, turn on the heater, and put the kettle on. Barsik, usually indifferent to guests, immediately jumped onto her lap and purred like a tractor.
'Look, he likes you,' I smiled, pulling out some cookies. 'And he's picky, doesn’t just go to anyone.'
Sonya timidly petted the cat, and I noticed her shoulders relax a bit.
'Sonya, how old are you?'
'Five... I think.'
'And do you know your last name? Or where you live?'
She shook her head, and I felt a tightness inside. Something was very wrong here.
That evening, I fed her soup and pies (thanks to my habit of baking in advance), put her to bed in my room, and settled myself on the sofa in the living room. I couldn't sleep all night—I called the police, the administration of neighboring villages, but no one had reported a missing child.
A week passed, then another. Sonya slowly thawed, began to smile, especially when I read her fairy tales before bed. But she remembered nothing—or didn't want to remember—about how she ended up on the road.
When the juvenile affairs officer shrugged her shoulders again, I realized—I had to decide something. An orphanage? The very thought made me nauseous.
'Sonya,' I called her one evening when she was drawing at the table, sticking out her tongue from diligence. 'Do you want to live with me? Permanently?'
She froze, gripping the pencil, then...
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09/02/2025

The daughter of a drinking father was humiliated at school. She got a job as a cleaner to save for her graduation.
The last year turned out to be the most difficult for Nina during her entire school life. While previously some people still focused on their studies, in the graduating class, it seemed everyone had forgotten why they were there. Relationships were forming, and there were discussions about future plans, money, and clothes. Nina remained on the sidelines, her future not looking bright.
Despite being a good student, her family had no money. She wore hand-me-downs—always. Nina wondered, had she ever had a new dress even once? She barely remembered getting new clothes for her first grade. It was so long ago, back when her dad was not like this, and her mom…
Nina had never really interacted much with her classmates, or rather, they with her. But this year, she felt like a true outcast. They were almost adults, yet the taunts directed at her became more frequent. Today, it all crossed a line.
The day began as usual. Everyone settled in for the first lesson. Nina hated being the center of attention, so she asked:
— Galina Andreevna, may I answer from here?
Immediately, someone commented:
— Novikova is afraid that if she stands by the board, everyone will see how many patches she has on her dress.
— No, she’s afraid the dress won’t withstand such stress and will just fall apart.
Both girls and boys joined in. The class laughed, and Galina Andreevna couldn’t calm them down.
— Novikova, how will you go to graduation? We don’t have stores that sell ‘fence-side’ goods here.
Nina grabbed her bag and bolted from the class. She heard Galina Andreevna shouting:
— Svetlova, be quiet! Novikova, come back!
But who would listen to her if everyone already considered themselves grown up and smart?
At home, everything was as usual. Her father was already asleep, clearly having drunk heavily. He lay across the sofa, couldn't even manage to pull his legs up, and reeked of alcohol. The kitchen was a mess with dirty dishes, mostly with cigarette butts, several empty bottles, and the table covered in something sticky.
Nina flung open the window, letting in a breeze. April this year was quite warm, but it was still early spring. Nina spent nearly an hour cleaning, scraping, clearing up her father's remnants, and thinking how things could have been different if her mom were alive.
Nina knew her dad had loved her mom very much. Perhaps that’s why he couldn’t cope with the loss. For 10 years, he'd been getting by with odd jobs, spending most of the money on alcohol.
At first, it wasn’t so noticeable. He went to work, and drank only when Nina was asleep. Then he started drinking in the evenings, even when Nina could see. And then it became harder and harder for him to find time for work. He liked to repeat:
— It’s alright, Nina, dad will stop for the last time, and we’ll live well together.
But that 'well' never came. Nina cried, begged her father to stop, waited for him to get enough of alcohol and tire of it, but nothing changed, everything only got worse.
Nina heard a rustle and turned sharply. Her father stood in the kitchen doorway. Her heart clenched. At 45, he looked 60, maybe even 70 years old.
— Daughter, why are you home so early today?
And then it overwhelmed her. She started to speak softly, then shifted to yelling.
— Early?! I have nothing to do at school with normal people, understand?
Nina threw her jacket on a chair and rushed past… Continue the story in the comments👇👇👇

Lori

24/03/2025

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