Ksenia adjusted the strap of her backpack once again and glanced at her phone screen. There were still thirty minutes left before check-in for her flight closed — more than enough time to make her way calmly to the right terminal.
Domodedovo Airport hummed with voices, announcements, and the clatter of luggage carts. Ksenia smiled to herself. This was her first vacation in two years, and she had earned it.
Turkey. The sea. No work calls. And most importantly, no family drama.
“Miss! Miss, wait!”
Ksenia turned around. An elderly woman was hurrying toward her, wearing a worn coat and a knitted hat. She looked about seventy, maybe older. Her gray eyes were sharp and penetrating, and her wrinkled hands clutched an old handbag.
“Are you talking to me?” Ksenia asked in surprise.
“To you, dear… yes, to you!” the old woman said, stepping closer and looking straight into her eyes. “You’re going the wrong way.”
“Excuse me?” Ksenia took a frightened step back. She had heard that all kinds of strange people approached travelers in airports, but this felt far too intrusive.
“Don’t fly to the sea,” the elderly woman said quietly but firmly. “Go to your sister. Right now. It’s urgent!”
Goosebumps ran over Ksenia’s skin.
How did this old woman know she had a sister? And how did she know about the sea? Ksenia had told no one about her plans except her colleagues at the hospital. And this woman definitely wasn’t one of the medical staff.
“Listen, I don’t know who you are, but leave me alone!” Ksenia snapped. “My plane leaves in an hour.”
“Don’t go,” the old woman repeated, and there was such conviction in her voice that Ksenia froze despite herself. “Believe an old woman. Your sister needs you. Right now.”
“What sister?” Ksenia flared up. “My sister last invited me over three years ago, and the rest of the time she only asks for money! And anyway, how do you—”
But the old woman had already vanished into the crowd as if she had never been there.
Ksenia looked around in confusion. How could she disappear so quickly? Shrugging, she continued walking, but for some reason, her legs felt heavy.
“Nonsense,” she told herself, trying to focus on the vacation ahead. “Just some beggar or a crazy old woman. Airports are full of them.”
But the image of those attentive gray eyes would not leave her mind.
Ksenia took out her phone and quickly dialed Alla’s number. Five rings. Six. Then voicemail.
Strange. Her sister always picked up when Ksenia called, especially if there was a chance she might ask for another bit of money.
Ksenia tried again. Voicemail once more.
“She’s probably sleeping,” Ksenia reassured herself. “Or drunk again.”
The thought made her stomach tighten unpleasantly.
Over the past six months, Alla had completely fallen apart after her husband, Andrei, left for Germany for good and filed for divorce. First she cried for a month. Then she started “treating” her pain with vodka.
And Kaya… poor Kaya.
Ksenia stopped in the middle of the terminal while passengers streamed around her.
Her seven-year-old niece had almost gone silent over the past year. Before, the little girl had talked nonstop and laughed at everything. Now she mostly stayed quiet, watching the world with huge frightened eyes and hiding in corners. Whenever Ksenia visited them — and she had been doing that less and less often because Alla’s drunken tantrums had become unbearable — Kaya would quietly come up to her and press herself against her without saying a word.
“It’s not my business,” Ksenia reminded herself. “Mom is right. I didn’t give birth to her, so she isn’t my responsibility. Everyone has their own problems.”
But her hands were shaking as she dialed her sister’s number again.
This time, Kaya answered. Her voice was barely audible.
“Hello?”
“Kaya, sweetheart, it’s Aunt Ksyusha. How are you? Where is your mother?”
A quiet sob came through the phone.
“Kaya, what happened?” Ksenia’s heart began pounding wildly. “Talk to me, sweetheart.”
“Mom is sleeping…” the girl whispered. “She’s been sleeping for a long time. And there’s smoke…”
“What smoke?” Ksenia cried, forgetting that she was in a public place.
“Smoke from the kitchen… I’m scared…”
Then the call ended.
Ksenia frantically called back. Busy. She tried again. Busy again.
Her fingers barely hit the right buttons on the screen. The old woman’s face flashed in her mind once more.
“Go to your sister. Right now!”
“Damn it, damn it, damn it!”
Ksenia spun around and almost ran toward the terminal exit. Her rolling suitcase bounced behind her, catching on every uneven spot on the floor. Turkey, vacation, the sea — all of it disappeared in an instant. If Alla had passed out drunk while something was burning on the stove…
She found a taxi quickly. The driver glanced at her in surprise.
“What happened to you? Flight canceled?”
“To Udelnaya, quickly!” Ksenia jumped into the car, still clutching her phone. “It’s an emergency!”
On the way, she tried calling emergency services, neighbors, and her mother, who was currently away on a business trip in Saint Petersburg.
On the third attempt, her mother finally answered, sounding irritated.
“Ksenia, why are you panicking? Alla is an adult. She’ll sort things out herself. Why do you always try to stick your nose into your older sister’s life? And anyway… weren’t you supposed to be flying out?”
“Mom, Kaya said there’s smoke coming from the kitchen! Alla isn’t answering!”
“So what? Maybe something burned. Children imagine things. Stop making a mountain out of a molehill.”
That was her mother’s typical reaction. Dear Alla was never to blame. Everyone else was simply too suspicious.
Ksenia angrily ended the call and started dialing emergency services.
But what exactly could she tell the dispatcher? Her niece had mentioned smoke, but she knew nothing more.
The drive to her sister’s building felt endless: traffic jams, red lights, slow buses. It was as if the whole city had conspired against her.
Ksenia squeezed her phone in her hand and ran through the worst possibilities in her head. Alla might have fallen asleep with a cigarette. She might have put something on the stove and forgotten about it. She might have…
“This the building?” the driver asked, stopping near the familiar nine-story apartment block.
“Yes, thank you!” Ksenia shoved money toward him without checking the amount and jumped out of the car.
The stairwell smelled sharply of cat urine and old paint. As luck would have it, the elevator was not working. The “Out of Order” sign had been hanging there for half a year. Ksenia left her suitcase in the corner and ran up the stairs to the seventh floor, skipping steps as she climbed.
On the sixth floor, she smelled smoke.
By the seventh, she knew it was coming from Alla’s apartment.
The door was locked. Ksenia pounded on it with her fists, rang the bell, and shouted:
“Alla! Kaya! Open the door!”
The neighbor across the hall peered out fearfully through the crack of her door.
“What’s all this noise?”
“Aunt Galya, there’s a fire in Alla’s apartment! Call the fire department! Hurry!”
Ksenia pulled a bunch of keys from her bag. Her sister had given them to her a year earlier when she was in the hospital after poisoning herself with alcohol. Her hands were trembling so badly that she couldn’t get the key into the lock.
At last, the door opened, and a wave of acrid smoke hit her in the face.
Ksenia bent down, covered her mouth with her sleeve, and rushed into the hallway. Smoke poured from the kitchen in thick clouds, stinging her eyes and throat. She felt along the wall for the light switch, but the light didn’t work. Visibility was almost zero.
“Kaya!” Ksenia shouted, choking. “Kaya, where are you?”
A faint cry came from the living room. Ksenia turned and practically crawled toward the sound on all fours. In the corner near the balcony door, curled into a tiny ball, sat Kaya. She was wearing pajamas, her face wet with tears.
“Aunt Ksyusha!” the little girl cried, throwing herself into Ksenia’s arms.
“It’s all right, sweetheart. I’m here.” Ksenia lifted her niece into her arms. “Where is Mom?”
“In the bedroom… She won’t wake up…” Kaya sobbed.
Ksenia rushed into the bedroom. Alla was lying face down on the bed. The smell of alcohol around her was so strong it was hard to breathe. Ksenia shook her sister by the shoulder, but Alla only groaned incoherently.
“Alla! Get up! There’s a fire!”
No response. Just what she needed. Alla was in an alcoholic coma — Ksenia had seen enough patients like that at the hospital to recognize it. She couldn’t drag Alla out by herself, especially not with Kaya in her arms.
At that moment, the sound of sirens outside became the most beautiful sound Ksenia had ever heard.
The next half hour felt like a nightmare.
Firefighters carried out her unconscious sister, aired out the apartment, and put out the fire in the kitchen. It turned out Alla had put a frying pan full of oil on the stove and forgotten to turn it off. A little longer, and the flames would have spread to the other rooms, and then…
Ksenia sat on a bench outside, holding Kaya tightly. The little girl was trembling and refused to let go of her for even a second.
“Did Mommy die?” Kaya asked quietly.
“No, sweetheart. Mommy is just sick. They took her to the hospital, and they’ll help her there.”
The ambulance took Alla away with moderate alcohol poisoning and carbon monoxide poisoning. And Kaya… Kaya could have suffocated or burned alive if…
“Don’t think about it,” Ksenia ordered herself. But her hands were still shaking.
“Aunt Ksyusha,” Kaya whispered, “I was so scared. Mommy fell on the bed and wouldn’t get up. Then it started smelling bad, and I didn’t know what to do…”
“You were very brave for answering the phone,” Ksenia said, stroking the girl’s hair. “Very, very brave.”
But inside, anger was boiling.
How much longer could everyone keep pretending nothing was wrong? Alla was drinking herself into the ground, and her seven-year-old child could have died today.
Ksenia took out her phone and called her mother.
“Well? What’s going on now?” Zoya Kirillovna asked irritably. “I’m in an important meeting.”
“Mom, there was a fire in the apartment. Alla is in the hospital with poisoning. Kaya barely survived.”
Silence hung on the other end of the line. Then her mother’s displeased voice returned.
“What do you mean, a fire? How did that happen?”
“How do you think? Alla got drunk until she passed out, put something on the stove, and fell asleep. Kaya was sitting in the smoke and didn’t know what to do!”
“Ksenia, don’t exaggerate. Alla is going through a difficult time. She needs support, not accusations.”
“Mom, she could have killed her child!”
“Stop being dramatic! Everything turned out fine, thank God. I’ll fly back tomorrow and we’ll sort it out.”
Again, that same endless defense of Alla. Always. Since childhood.
Alla was allowed anything because she was “sensitive,” because she had “a difficult fate.” And if someone suffered because of her irresponsibility, somehow that person was the one to blame.
“Mom, I’m taking Kaya to live with me. For good,” Ksenia said firmly.
“What do you mean, taking her? Is she a thing? Besides, you have no right! She is Alla’s child. If you take her daughter away from her too…”
“Alla is an alcoholic. She is not capable of taking care of her daughter. Stop pretending everything is fine!”
“Ksenia!” her mother shouted sharply. “Stop this immediately! You didn’t give birth to that girl, so you don’t get to raise her! Alla is a wonderful mother! She’ll manage. She just needs time!”
The call ended. Ksenia put the phone away and held Kaya even closer.
Time. And while her mother kept giving Alla “time,” a seven-year-old girl was living in hell.
An hour later, Ksenia brought Kaya to her apartment, settled her on the sofa, wrapped her in a blanket, and gave her warm milk with honey. The girl looked completely exhausted: thin, pale, and frightened.
When Kaya finally fell asleep, Ksenia sat beside her, unable to believe what had happened. That morning she had been planning to sunbathe on a beach in Antalya, and now…
“And now what?” she thought, watching her niece sleep peacefully.
Tomorrow her mother would fly back from Saint Petersburg, throw a fit, and demand that Kaya be returned immediately. Alla would be released from the hospital — the poisoning wasn’t severe, so in a day or two she would be home. And everything would go back to the way it was. Drinking, dangerous situations, and Kaya silently enduring it because there was no one else to protect her.
Two days later, the doorbell rang. Ksenia looked through the peephole and saw her mother standing on the landing with Alla.
“She got discharged quickly,” Ksenia thought, then opened the door but did not let them in.
“Ksenia, let us inside this instant!” Zoya Kirillovna demanded angrily. “We’ve come for Kaya!”
“Mom, it’s late. The child is sleeping. And Alla just got out of the hospital…”
“I’m fine!” Alla hissed viciously. “Give me my daughter and I’ll be gone. I don’t have time for your lectures.”
“No,” Ksenia replied firmly. “After what happened, I can’t give your daughter back to you. Absolutely not.”
“What do you mean, no?” her older sister exploded. “Who are you to decide where my child stays? My child!”
“Your daughter almost died because of you and your drinking. Do you understand that?”
“Ksenia, shut your mouth!” Zoya Kirillovna raised her voice. “You are nobody to lecture your older sister. Let us in, we’ll take the child and leave. You should worry about your own life.”
“Mom, I’m not giving Kaya back. At least not until Alla gets treatment.”
“Treatment for what?” Alla barked. “What are you talking about? I have every right to drink after everything I’ve been through! I lost my husband, my job, and now you’re attacking me too!”
“You have an alcohol addiction, Alla. You can’t keep your daughter safe.”
“Go to hell!” her sister shouted. “You’re just jealous of me! Jealous because I have a child and you don’t! An old maid clinging to someone else’s kid!”
The words cut painfully. Ksenia really was unmarried. Work at the hospital, endless shifts, exhaustion — her personal life had never quite worked out. But none of that mattered now.
“If you don’t hand Kaya over right now, I’ll file a police report against you,” Alla continued. “For kidnapping a child. Do you understand that they can put you in prison?”
“Girls, calm down,” their mother intervened. “Ksyusha, be reasonable. Alla will get better. She just needs family support. And I understand you too. You’re upset because your vacation was ruined, so you’re angry.”
A quiet sob came from the living room. Kaya had woken up because of the shouting. Ksenia turned around. The girl was standing in the doorway, clutching a pillow. Her eyes were wide with fear.
“Kaya, sweetheart, it’s okay,” Ksenia said, going to her. “Don’t be afraid.”
“Kaya!” Alla shouted. “Sweetheart, it’s Mommy! Come on, we’re going home!”
The girl flinched and hid behind Ksenia.
“I don’t want to go home,” she whispered. “It’s scary there. There was smoke. And Mommy wouldn’t wake up.”
Ksenia’s heart clenched. But what could she do? Alla was right in one thing: officially, Ksenia had no legal right to keep the girl. But her mother had every right.
“Ksenia, you have five minutes!” her mother shouted, banging her fist. “Or we’re calling the police!”
There was nothing she could do. Ksenia let the women into the apartment. Alla rushed into the hallway, and their mother followed.
“Kaya, get ready. We’re going home,” Alla said, reaching out her hand.
The little girl stepped back and gripped Ksenia’s hand even tighter.
“Mommy, I want to stay with Aunt Ksyusha…”
“Don’t even think about it!” Alla snapped. “I’m your mother, and we’re going home!”
Half an hour later, they left. Kaya cried and reached her arms toward Ksenia, but Alla stubbornly dragged her daughter toward the elevator. At the last moment, the girl turned around, as if begging for help.
When the door closed, Ksenia sank to the floor and cried — from helplessness, from anger, from pain for a small child who had no one to protect her.
Then she wiped away her tears and picked up her phone.
The next morning, she would go to child protective services.
The inspector from child protective services turned out to be a very experienced specialist. She had seen hundreds of stories like this. She listened carefully to Ksenia and wrote down every detail.
“You understand,” the woman said, setting her pen aside, “to terminate parental rights, there must be serious grounds. One incident is not enough. Medical records from emergency care would help, as would neighbors’ statements, a narcologist’s report…”
“But the child could have died!” Ksenia felt herself boiling over. “Isn’t that enough?”
“It is still considered an incident. Incidents happen in all kinds of families,” the woman said, looking at her sympathetically. “I understand your concern, but the law is the law. We’ll conduct a scheduled family inspection and prepare a report. But until the mother is deprived of her parental rights, the child must remain with her.”
Ksenia left the office feeling utterly defeated.
The next two weeks became a nightmare. Alla forbade Ksenia from coming to their home.
“Don’t you dare stick your nose into our family!”
Their mother supported Alla.
“Stop stirring up scandals! Let Alla live in peace!”
Whenever Ksenia tried to call her sister, no one answered.
Then one day, Aunt Galya called.
“Ksenia,” her voice trembled, “come quickly. Something’s wrong again…”
This time the apartment door was wide open. Alla was sitting in the kitchen with a bottle of vodka, sobbing. Broken plates lay scattered across the floor, and empty medicine packages were on the table.
“Where is Kaya?” Ksenia grabbed her sister by the shoulders.
“Gone…” Alla hiccupped. “She said she couldn’t do it anymore… She ran away this morning…”
Ksenia went cold. A seven-year-old girl. Alone. In a big city.
“When did she leave? What exactly did she say?”
“This morning… I overslept… She said… she said she would find Aunt Ksyusha…”
Ksenia grabbed her phone and started calling everyone: the police, hospitals, the school. Then she rushed back to her own apartment. What if her niece really had tried to reach her building?
A district police officer was waiting near the entrance. He was holding Kaya by the hand.
“Is she yours?” he asked. “We found her nearby on a playground. She says she was looking for her aunt.”
“Aunt Ksyusha!” Kaya cried, running to her.
Ksenia hugged her tightly, feeling the child’s small shoulders tremble.
“I don’t want to live with Mom anymore,” the girl whispered. “She cries and screams all the time. And drinks from the bottle. Then she sleeps and doesn’t hear me. I’m scared…”
That was enough.
The police officer filed a report stating that the child had been found outside after leaving home on her own. The neighbors gave statements about constant drunken scandals. The doctor from the hospital where Alla had been taken provided documentation confirming chronic alcoholism.
A month later, the court terminated Alla’s parental rights. Ksenia became Kaya’s legal guardian as the closest and only relative who could provide the child with proper living conditions.
Her mother refused to speak to Ksenia, accusing her of ruining her older sister’s life. Alla disappeared. Neighbors said she had moved in with some man. But Ksenia no longer worried about that.
“Aunt Ksyusha, will we always be together now?” Kaya asked as she lay down to sleep in her new room.
In two months, the girl had changed so much. She laughed again, talked nonstop, and drew bright, colorful pictures.
“Always, sweetheart,” Ksenia said, adjusting the blanket. “I promise.”
“And what about your vacation? You wanted to go to the sea so badly…”
Ksenia smiled, remembering the strange old woman at the airport. She never did understand who she had been — a random beggar or a blessing from above.
“You know, Kaya… next summer, we’ll go to the sea together. You’ve never seen the real sea, have you?”
The girl’s eyes lit up.
“Really? We’ll swim and build sandcastles?”
“Of course. We have our whole life ahead of us. And we’re going to live it the right way.”
Outside the window, spring rain was falling, but inside the small apartment, it was warm and cozy. Ksenia turned off the light in the child’s room and went to the kitchen to make tea.
Tomorrow would bring a new day, new plans, and new happiness — happiness they would share together.