Uncle, please, take my little sister away: she hasn’t eaten in a long time!” Igor Levsin whirled around and froze in surprise.
— „Uncle, please… take my sister away. He’s very hungry…”
That calm, desperate voice piercing the noise of the street surprised Igor. He walked quickly, or rather, ran, as if an invisible enemy were chasing him.
Time was pressing on him: millions of dollars depended on the decision that had to be made that day, at the meeting.
Since Rita had died—his wife, his light, his support—work had become the only meaning of his life.
But that voice…
Igor turned.
A boy of about seven stood before him. Emaciated, neglected, with tears in his eyes. In his hands he held a small package, from which the face of a newborn baby was peeking out.
The little girl, wrapped in a worn old blanket, was sobbing silently, and the boy held her close as if she were his only protection in an indifferent world.
Igor hesitated. He knew there was no time to waste, that he had to go. But something in the child’s gaze, in that simple „for Please,” touched a deeply hidden part of his soul.
“Where’s Mom?” he asked softly, sitting down next to the little girl.
“She promised she’d come back… but it’s been two days and she’s still not here. I’ll wait here, maybe she’ll come.” The boy’s voice was shaking, as were his hands.
His name was Maksym, and that of his sister Taisia. They were left completely alone. No note, no explanation: just a hope, to which the seven-year-old clung like a lifeline.
Igor offered to buy food, call the police, inform social services. But when he said the word “police,” Maksym trembled and whispered in pain:
— “Please… don’t hand us over. They’ll take Taisia away…”
And it was then that Igor understood: he couldn’t just leave.
In a nearby café, Maksym ate heartily, and Igor gave Taisia the pharmacy milk he’d bought earlier. Something inside him began to awaken, something that had long lain dormant beneath a crust of ice.
He called his assistant:
— „Cancel all meetings. Today and tomorrow.”
Shortly afterward, the police arrived: Gerasimov and Naumov. Standard questions, routine procedures. Maksym squeezed Igor’s hand tightly:
— „You’re not going to hand us over to an orphanage, are you?”
Igor didn’t expect him to say it out loud:
— „I won’t. I promise.”
The formalities began at the police station. Larisa Petrovna, an old friend and experienced social worker, joined the case. Thanks to her, everything went smoothly: temporary assistance.
—”Only until we find Mom,” Igor repeated, more to himself than anyone else.—”It’s only temporary.”
He drove the children home. The car was as silent as a tomb. Maksim held his sister tightly, unquestioning, softly whispering words of comfort, familiar and warm.
Igor’s apartment welcomed them with space, soft carpets, and panoramic windows overlooking the entire city. For Maksim, it was like a fairy tale: his life had never known such warmth and comfort.
Igor felt lost. He had no idea what formula, diapers, or daily routine were. He tripped over diapers, forgot when to feed the children, when to put them to bed.
But Maksim was beside him. Silent, attentive, tense. He watched Igor as if he were a stranger who could disappear at any moment.
And at the same time, he helped him: he gently rocked his sister, sang to her softly, put her to sleep with the skill that only those who have done it many times possess.
One evening, Taisia She couldn’t fall asleep. She grumbled, tossing restlessly in her crib. Then Maksim came over, gently picked her up, and began to sing softly.
After a few minutes, the little girl was sleeping peacefully.
—”You’re really good at calming her down,” Igor said, looking at him with warmth in his heart.
—”I had to learn,” the boy replied simply. Without regret, without bitterness, as if it were a natural part of his life.
At that moment, the phone rang. It was Larisa Petrovna.
—”We found their mother. She’s alive, but now she’s in therapy: she has a drug addiction problem, she’s in very difficult conditions.
Se completa il trattamento e dimostra di potersi prendere cura di loro, i bambini le saranno restituiti. Altrimenti, se ne occuperà lo Stato. O… tu.”
Igor tacque. Qualcosa si strinse dentro di lui, una sensazione di pesantezza prese il sopravvento.
— “Puoi diventare ufficialmente il loro tutore. O addirittura adottarli. Se è quello che vuole veramente.”
Non era sicuro di essere pronto a diventare padre. Ma sapeva una cosa: non voleva perdere quei bambini.
Quella sera, Maksim era seduto in un angolo del soggiorno, disegnando attentamente con una matita.
“Cosa ci succederà adesso?” chiese, senza staccare gli occhi dal foglio. La sua voce era piena di emozioni: paura, dolore, speranza e il timore di essere abbandonati di nuovo.
“Non lo so”, rispose Igor con sincerità, sedendosi accanto a lui. “Ma farò tutto ciò che è in mio potere per tenerti al sicuro.”
Maksim rimase in silenzio per un attimo.
“Ci porteranno via di nuovo? Questo posto ci verrà portato via, a te, a noi?”
Igor lo abbracciò forte. Senza parole. Voleva che la forza del suo abbraccio dicesse tutto: non eri mai più solo. Mai più.
“Non ti lascerò mai. Te lo prometto. Mai più.”
E fu allora che capì: quei bambini non erano più casuali per lui. Erano diventati parte di lui.
La mattina dopo, Igor chiamò Larisa Petrovna:
— “Voglio diventare il loro tutore ufficiale. A tempo indeterminato.”
Il processo fu difficile: controlli, colloqui, visite a domicilio, infinite domande. Ma Igor affrontò tutto, perché ora aveva un vero obiettivo. Due nomi: Maksim e Taisia.
Quando la tutela temporanea divenne qualcosa di più, Igor decise di trasferirsi. Comprò una casa fuori città, con un giardino, un ampio portico, il canto degli uccelli al mattino e il profumo dell’erba dopo la pioggia.
Maksim sbocciava giorno dopo giorno. Rideva, costruiva fortini con i cuscini, leggeva libri ad alta voce, portava disegni che appendeva con orgoglio al frigorifero. Viveva, davvero, liberamente, senza paura.
Una sera, mentre Igor lo metteva a letto, lo coprì con una coperta e gli accarezzò i capelli. Maksim lo guardò da sotto la coperta e sussurrò a bassa voce:
— “Buonanotte, papà.”
Qualcosa dentro Igor si scaldò e le lacrime gli riempirono gli occhi.
— “Buonanotte, figliolo.”
L’adozione ufficiale avvenne in primavera. La firma del giudice confermò ciò che era chiaro da tempo nel cuore di Igor.
La prima parola di Taisia – “Papà!” – fu per lui più preziosa di qualsiasi successo professionale.
Maksim fece amicizia, si unì a una squadra di calcio e a volte tornava a casa con un pacco rumoroso. Igor imparò a intrecciare i capelli, a preparare la colazione, ad ascoltare, a ridere… e a sentirsi di nuovo vivo.
Non aveva mai pianificato di diventare padre. Non l’aveva cercato. Ma ora non riusciva a immaginare la vita senza quei bambini.
Fu difficile. Fu inaspettato.
Ma divenne la cosa più bella che gli fosse mai capitata.