Artyom sat on the bench in the courtyard of the student dormitory, his foot bouncing in rhythm with his thoughts. Outwardly, he looked relaxed — casual posture, hands resting on his knees, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. But his eyes betrayed him. Fixed on a single point ahead, they shimmered with cold detachment. He studied his new sneakers — symbols of fleeting success, bought with borrowed charm and shallow ambition.

Across from him stood Tasya, clutching a pregnancy test strip like a lifeline and a curse. Two pink lines. Her fingers trembled, her knuckles pale. Her world had shifted in an instant. Her heart pounded, her chest tightened with fear, shame, and a desperate need for something — anything — to hold onto.

Artyom didn’t even look up.

“How could you be so naive?” he said flatly, as if commenting on the weather. “I told you from the start — this wasn’t serious. It was a game. That’s all.”

Tasya’s lips parted, but her voice faltered. She swallowed hard, trying to speak.

“But we… I thought…”

She couldn’t finish. What had felt like the beginning of something real for her had been nothing more than a passing thrill for him. A disposable moment.

“What ‘we’?” Artyom finally met her gaze. His eyes were void of warmth. “We were just killing time. And now you want to turn this into some kind of responsibility? Don’t be ridiculous.”

His words sliced through her. Each syllable felt like a verdict. And worst of all — he spoke with certainty, as if she were the one who had made a mistake by believing in something.

Around them, students slowed their steps, pretending not to listen but clearly eavesdropping. Whispers began. Curious glances. They had been a couple — now they were a spectacle.

“Figure it out yourself,” Artyom said, standing. “Just don’t involve me. I’ve got my thesis, a job interview next week, plans. You? You made your bed.”

He walked away without a backward glance.

Tasya stood frozen. The courtyard, once filled with laughter and life, now felt like a stage for her humiliation. Her legs moved, but she didn’t know where they were taking her. Her thoughts spiraled. Her studies were crumbling. Morning sickness had become a cruel routine. And home? That wasn’t an option. Her parents — both addicts — offered only chaos and cruelty.

“What am I supposed to do?” echoed in her mind.

She wandered the city aimlessly. Rain began to fall — soft at first, then heavy. Streetlights reflected in puddles like broken stars. The city, once vibrant, now felt alien.

Eventually, she found herself on a bridge. High above the river. The water below was black, endless.

“Maybe it’s better this way,” she whispered, climbing onto the railing.

The wind whipped her hair. Rain stung her cheeks. She closed her eyes.

Then — a cry.

“Lady! Lady, help!”

Tasya jerked, lost her balance, and stumbled down from the railing. Her knee slammed into the pavement. Pain shot through her leg, but it was nothing compared to what she had almost done.

A little girl stood before her. Soaked, shivering, eyes wide with fear.

“Please,” the girl said, tugging her hand. “My grandpa’s sick. He can’t breathe.”

Tasya followed her to a bench where an elderly man lay, clutching his chest.

“His name’s Saveliy Petrovich,” the girl said. “He gave me food when I was hungry. Now he’s sick.”

Tasya knelt beside him. His face was pale, lips tinged blue.

“Do you have medicine?” she asked.

He nodded weakly, pointing to his coat pocket. She found the pills, placed one under his tongue, and supported his head.

Minutes passed. His breathing steadied.

“Thought that was the end,” he whispered.

“Not today,” Tasya replied softly.

They sheltered under a bus stop canopy until the rain eased. The moon broke through the clouds, casting silver light on the wet pavement.

“Strange night,” the old man murmured. “Three lost souls on a bridge. Must be fate.”

Marisha — the girl — clung to him like he was her real grandfather. Tasya watched them, and something stirred inside her. Maybe not everything was lost.

They sat together, sharing stories. Saveliy lived alone in a village. No children. Just a cat named Vaska and memories of his late wife. Marisha’s home was filled with violence and neglect. She often hid outside to escape.

Tasya told them about her pregnancy. About Artyom. About the emptiness.

“You silly girl,” Saveliy said gently. “Life’s hard. But that baby didn’t ask for this. You have to fight. For them.”

Marisha took her hand.

“You’re going to have a baby? That’s amazing! I always wanted a little sibling.”

Saveliy looked at them both.

“Come with me,” he said. “I’ve got a big house. Plenty of room. Let’s make it a home again.”

Tasya hesitated. It was madness. But what was she leaving behind?

“All right,” she whispered. “Thank you.”

The next morning, Tasya packed her things. Her roommates stared.

“Where are you going?”

“To relatives,” she lied.

Marisha gathered her few belongings. Her mother didn’t even notice.

At dawn, they met at the station. Saveliy bought tickets. The train carried them away — from pain, from judgment, toward something new.

The village of Lesniki greeted them with mist and silence. Saveliy’s house stood near the woods — a large log home with a garden and a tall fence.

“It’s like a fairy tale!” Marisha exclaimed.

“Maybe this is my new beginning,” Tasya thought.

Inside, the house was warm and lived-in. A Russian stove, soft armchairs, creaky floors. It felt like it had been waiting for them.

“Pick a room,” Saveliy said proudly.

They chose a bright upstairs bedroom. Outside, apple trees bloomed. Bees buzzed lazily.

Over breakfast, Saveliy told stories. He served fresh cheese and milk from his cow. His voice was steady, comforting.

“It’s peaceful here,” Marisha said.

“And the air,” Tasya added. “It feels like healing.”

They walked in the fields. Marisha picked wildflowers. Tasya felt her soul begin to mend.

“You saved us,” she told Saveliy.

“No,” he replied. “You saved me.”

Days passed. They cleaned, decorated, planted. Laughter returned to the house. Saveliy grew stronger. Marisha blossomed.

Rumors spread in the village. People assumed they were family. Saveliy didn’t correct them.

Tasya began to dream again. She imagined her child growing up here — picking apples, skiing in winter, chasing butterflies in summer.

In August, a new gamekeeper arrived — Aleksei. Kind eyes, quiet strength. His dog, Zhorik, followed him everywhere.

“Can I stay awhile?” Aleksei asked. “The lodge isn’t ready.”

“Of course,” Saveliy said. “Meet my girls.”

Over dinner, Aleksei joked with Tasya. She blushed. He was different — gentle, attentive.

When she needed to visit the clinic, Aleksei drove her. He waited, brought coffee, helped with forms.

“You’re very kind,” Tasya said.

“Just doing what’s right,” he replied.

One evening, they walked in the garden. Moonlight bathed the path.

“I was married,” Aleksei said. “She left. Took the kids. Couldn’t handle village life.”

“I’m sorry,” Tasya said.

“I’m afraid to start over.”

“I should tell you something,” she said. “I’m pregnant. The father left. Marisha and I… we’re not related to Saveliy.”

“So?” Aleksei said. “That doesn’t change who you are.”

Inside, Saveliy watched them through the curtain and smiled.

Autumn came. Marisha started school. They prepared together — notebooks, a new dress, a polished briefcase.

“I’m scared,” Marisha said.

“You’ll be fine,” Aleksei assured her.

In October, Tasya gave birth to a healthy girl. Aleksei was there. Saveliy packed the hospital bag. Marisha cried with joy.

“She’s like my little sister!” Marisha said. “Can I call you my sister?”

“Always,” Tasya replied.

Aleksei spent every free moment with them. He made toys, read stories, helped with chores.

One evening, he said:

“Tasya, marry me. Let’s be a real family. I’ll adopt Marisha and your daughter.”

Tasya cried.

“Are you sure?”

“We have love. We have a home. That’s enough.”

Saveliy wiped his eyes.

“At last,” he said. “I knew you’d find each other.”

A summer evening. A fire crackled in the yard. Aleksei made plans. Tasya rocked her daughter. Marisha sketched the house. Saveliy told stories.

“Remember the bridge?” Marisha laughed.

“I do,” Tasya said. “That night changed everything.”

“Sometimes