“You’re my mom,” the little girl touches my hand with her velvety palm. “Baby,” I crouch in front of her. “I’m not your… mom.” My throat tightens as I swallow the heavy lump of regret. My heart tears apart. Fog in my head. “Where’s my candy?”—a strict but soaked-through-with tenderness and love voice fills the room. I stand up, press the documents to my chest, and turn away.
It’s him! It’s definitely him! Ruslan Selivanov. My first and only love, the first and only man. The father of my dead daughter… And the father of this wonderful girl… He knew he would become a father, promised to return… and disappeared. Left me alone to live through the bitterness of loss. I thought he stopped loving me. And I was right. Maybe back then he already knew he wouldn’t come back. Maybe his wife was pregnant. And the child… A daughter… The same age as our dead little girl…