Papa Frost and His Tangerines

“Why didn’t you tell me you had given birth to a daughter from me?” I raged, realizing I missed the most important years in Katya’s life.
“— You left me, Tagayev,” Olya pushed back.
“— Katya is only mine, got it?”
“No, I didn’t get it! I want to be part of her life, do you understand?”
“And I don’t want you to be part of it. Enough with trying to hit on me with your… mandarins!”

I didn’t see her for almost nine years—and I wouldn’t have seen her if, by mistake, twenty truckloads of mandarins hadn’t been sent to my firm. My ex agreed to help me sell them, but then it turned out that I had become the father of a wonderful little girl many years ago.

All that’s left is to hope for a New Year miracle—so I can profitably get rid of the fruit and fight for my daughter’s rights from my ex.