“— What is that? — I stopped halfway to the station, listening carefully.
A cry was coming from the left — quiet, but persistent. The February wind tickled my neck and fluttered the edge of my coat. I turned towards the railway, where, against the backdrop of the white snow, a dark and abandoned cabin of the railwayman stood out.
A Sudden Discovery
A blanket lay right next to the tracks. An old, dirty blanket, with a tiny hand sticking out from underneath it.
“— My God… — I picked it up from the ground.
A little girl. About a year old, maybe a little less. Her lips were bluish, but she was breathing. She was crying barely audibly — almost without strength.
I opened my coat, pulled the baby close to me, and ran back to the village — to paramedic Marya Petrovna.
“— Zina, where did you get her? — she gently took the child.
“— I found her by the tracks. She was just lying in the snow.
“— Abandoned, then. We need to call the police.
“— What police! — I held the girl close to my chest again. — She will freeze on the way.
Marya Petrovna sighed and took some powdered milk from the cupboard.
“— This will be enough for now. What do you plan to do next?”
I looked at the tiny face. She had stopped crying and buried her nose in my sweater.
“— I will raise her. There is no other way.”
A New Life
The neighbors whispered behind my back: “She lives alone, thirty-five years old, she should have been married long ago, and now she is gathering other people’s children.” I pretended not to hear.
Some acquaintances helped me with the paperwork.
I named her Alyona. This new life, just begun, seemed so bright to me.
In the first months, I barely slept. High fever, colic, teething. I rocked her in my arms, singing old lullabies I remembered from my grandmother.
“— Mama! — she said at ten months, reaching out her hands to me.
I cried. So many years alone, and suddenly — a mother.
At two, she was already running around the house, chasing the cat Vasya. She became curious, sticking her nose everywhere.
“— Baba Galya, look how smart my girl is! — I boasted to the neighbor. — She knows all the letters from the book!
“— Really? At three years old?
“— Check for yourself!
Galya pointed out the letters one by one — Alyonka named each one without mistakes. Then she told a story about the hen Ryaba.
At five, she went to kindergarten in the neighboring village. I took her there by hitchhiking. The teacher was amazed — she reads fluently, counts to a hundred.
“— Where did such a smart girl come from?
“— The whole village raised her, — I laughed.
A Mother’s Pride
She started school with long braids down to her waist. Every morning I braided her hair and matched ribbons to her dress. At the first parent-teacher meeting, the teacher came to me:
“— Zinaida Ivanovna, your daughter is extraordinarily talented. Such children are rare.”
My heart literally leaped with pride. My daughter. My Alyonushka.
The years flew by quickly. Alyonka grew into a true beauty — tall, slender, with blue eyes like a clear summer sky. She won awards at regional olympiads; teachers spoke highly of her.
“— Mom, I want to go to medical school, — she announced in the tenth grade.
“— It’s expensive, daughter. How will we manage with the city, the dorm?
“— I will get a budget spot! — her eyes sparkled. — You’ll see!
And so it was. We spent her graduation in tears — of joy and fear. For the first time, she was going far away — to the regional center.
“— Don’t cry, mom, — she hugged me at the station. — I will come every weekend.”
Of course, she lied. Studies absorbed her completely. She came once a month, then even less. But she called me every day.
“— Mom, I had a tough anatomy class today! And I passed with flying colors!
“— Good job, my dear. Are you eating well?
“— Yes, mom. Don’t worry.”
A Student’s Love
In her third year, she fell in love — with Pasha, her classmate. She brought him home — a tall, serious guy. He shook my hand confidently, looking me straight in the eye.
“— Good boy, — I approved. — Just don’t neglect your studies.
“— Mom! — Alyonka got upset. — I will graduate with honors!”
After university, she was offered to stay for residency. She chose pediatrics — she decided to treat children.
“— You took care of me once until I got better, — she said on the phone. — Now I will save others.”
She visited the village less often. Internships, exams. I didn’t mind — I understood. Youth, city, a new life.
The Truth Comes Out
One evening she called me unexpectedly. Her voice sounded strange:
“— Mom, can I come tomorrow? We need to talk.”
“— Of course, dear. What happened?”
“— I will tell you when I arrive.”
I barely slept all night. My heart sensed trouble.
Alyonka came pale, with deep-set eyes. She sat at the table, poured tea, but her hands trembled so much that she could barely hold the cup.
“— Mom, some people came to me. They say… they are my biological parents.
The cup slipped from my hands and shattered on the floor.
“— How did they find you?”
“— Through some connections, they searched through mutual acquaintances… I don’t know exactly. The woman cried. She said she was young and reckless. Her parents forced her to abandon me. Then she spent her whole life tormented by regret. She searched.”
I was silent. I had waited and feared this moment for so many years.
“— And what did you tell them?”
“— I said I would think about it. Mom, I don’t know what to do! — Alyonka cried. — You are my real mother, the only one! But they have suffered all these years…”
Holding her in my arms, I stroked her hair as I did when she was a child.
“— They suffered, you say? Then who left you by the tracks in winter? Who didn’t think if you would survive?”
“— She said she placed me by the railwayman’s cabin because she knew he would come soon to check the tracks. It’s just that he was sick that day…”
“— My God…”
We sat embraced. The twilight thickened outside the window. Vasya rubbed against my legs, meowing — asking for dinner.
Two Families, One Love
“— I want to meet them, — Alyonka said a few days later. — Just to talk. To know the truth.”
My heart tightened, but I nodded:
“— That’s right, daughter. You have the right to know.”
The meeting was set in a café in the city. I went with her — I sat in the adjoining room, waiting.
She came out two hours later. Her eyes were red, but her gaze was calm.
“— So, how was it?”
“— Ordinary people. She was seventeen. Her parents threatened to throw her out. Her father didn’t even know he had a child. She hid it. Then she married another man, had two more children. But she never forgot about me.”
We walked through the spring city. The air was filled with the scent of blooming lilacs.
“— They want to be close. To introduce me to my brothers and sisters. My… biological… father… is alone now. When he heard about me, he cried.”
“— And what have you decided?”
Alyonka stopped, took my hands in hers:
“— Mom, you will always be my mother. The one who raised me, loved me, believed in me. That will never change. But I want to understand them. Not in your place — just to know myself better.”
Tears filled my eyes, but I smiled:
“— I understand everything, dear. And I will be by your side.”
She hugged me tightly:
“— You know, she thanked you. For saving me, for raising me to be who I am. She said I became better than I could have been with her — a scared girl, without support.”
“— It’s not about that, Alyonushka. I just loved you. Every day. Every minute.”
Now Alyonka has two families. She met her brothers — one became an engineer, the other a teacher. She keeps in touch with her biological mother: sometimes they call each other, sometimes they meet. Forgiveness wasn’t easy, but my daughter is stronger than anyone.
At Alyonka and Pasha’s wedding, I sat at the same table with that woman. We both cried watching the young couple’s first dance.
“— Thank you, — she whispered to me. — For our daughter.”
“— Thank you, — I replied. — For entrusting me with her fate.”
Alyonka now works at the regional children’s hospital, treating little ones. When her own daughter was born, she named her Zina — after me.
“— Mom, will you take care of your granddaughter? — my daughter laughs, handing me the baby.
“— Of course! I will tell stories, I will sing lullabies. Just like I did with you.”
Little Zinocika grabs my finger with her tiny hands, smiling with her toothless mouth. Just like Alyonka many years ago, when I held her for the first time and realized: this is destiny.
Love does not choose whom to call its own. It simply is — immense like the sky above the village, warm like the summer sun, eternal like a mother’s heart.
This work is inspired by real events and people, but has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, or to real events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher do not assume responsibility for the accuracy of events or for how characters are portrayed and are not liable for any misinterpretations. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed belong to the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
