— Where is my daughter? — I grab the nurse by the sleeve.
— Careful—the IV! You can’t move, — an elderly woman scolds.
— I asked where my daughter is?! — I rasp, trying again to get up.
— What daughter are you talking about? You don’t have children, as far as I know from what your husband told me.
— What do you mean, no?! Are you out of your mind?! A girl. I have a girl. Seven years old. Her name is Taisia. Blond hair, brown eyes — my voice trembles and breaks.
— Where is my daughter? What happened to her?!
*** In an instant, my whole life is turned upside down. They convince me that I never had children and that the apartment is someone else’s. My husband increasingly comes home smelling like another woman’s perfume, and in a dream a little brown-eyed girl with blond hair comes to me, calls me “Mom,” and asks me to take her…