How My Husband and His Aunt Tried to Steal My Newborn Son
The April sun shone directly into Veronika’s eyes, forcing her to squint as she held the tiny bundle close to her chest. Little Matvey breathed softly, his miniature nose wrinkling in his sleep. Three days earlier, Veronika had become a completely different person.
She was a mother now.
Anton hovered beside her, nervously adjusting the pale blue ribbon tied around the baby’s blanket. His hands were cold despite the warm spring weather. Veronika assumed it was because he was overwhelmed. After all, this was their first child.
“How are you feeling?” she asked gently. “You look pale.”
“I’m fine,” he replied, avoiding her gaze. “The car is waiting.”
Veronika smiled. Nothing could ruin her happiness today—not even the strange anxiety she had noticed in her husband the day before, when he had visited the hospital to discuss the discharge arrangements.
“We’re going home, sweetheart,” she whispered to her son. “Your beautiful crib is waiting for you, along with the mobile with the little birds.”
Galina Stepanovna was standing beside the car.
She was Anton’s aunt, the woman who had raised him after his parents died in a car accident. She was over sixty, with permanently pursed lips and a stare sour enough to curdle milk.
Veronika slowed down.
During three years of marriage, she had learned to recognize that particular expression. It never meant anything good.
“Galina Stepanovna,” she said, trying to sound welcoming. “I didn’t expect to see you. Anton told me you were busy.”
“I made time,” the woman replied coldly.
She did not look at Veronika. Her eyes were fixed on the bundle in her daughter-in-law’s arms. Something dark and greedy burned in her gaze.
“He’s a beautiful boy,” she said. “You can immediately see he belongs to our bloodline.”
“Our boy,” Veronika corrected softly. “Anton’s and mine.”
Galina Stepanovna gave a dry, unpleasant laugh that sounded like a rusty hinge. Anton remained silent, staring at the pavement.
“Get in the car,” the aunt ordered her nephew. “You’re driving. We’ll talk on the way.”
Veronika frowned.
Something was wrong. She could feel it against her skin, along her spine, in every cell of her newly awakened maternal instinct.
“Anton,” she called. “Help me get into the car. It’s difficult while I’m holding the baby.”
He started toward her, but his aunt grabbed him by the elbow. Her sharp fingers dug into his sleeve like claws.
“There will be time for that,” Galina Stepanovna said. “First, we have business to discuss.”
“What business?” Veronika narrowed her eyes. “We’re going home. What kind of business could possibly be more important on the day I leave the hospital?”
“That is exactly what we’re going to discuss.”
Matvey stirred and began to whimper. Veronika rocked him gently.
“All right,” she said. “We can talk in the car. The baby is getting cold.”
“He’s not cold,” Galina Stepanovna snapped. “In my day, we toughened children up instead of wrapping them in layers.”
Veronika said nothing.
She had become accustomed to these little jabs. There had been enough of them over the past three years to fill an entire pincushion. But today was special. She would not allow anyone to spoil it.
“Anton,” his aunt said more firmly. “Tell her.”
“Tell me what?” Veronika looked at her husband. “Anton?”
He raised his head.
There was emptiness in his eyes—the same emptiness she saw every time he had to choose between his wife and his aunt. It was the expression of a man who had never developed an opinion of his own.
“Vera…” he began.
“Veronika,” she corrected automatically. “We’ve been together for three years, Anton, and you still get my name wrong.”
“Veronika,” he repeated obediently. “Aunt Galya thinks…”
“She doesn’t think,” Galina Stepanovna interrupted. “She has decided. I have decided that the baby will live with me.”
For a moment, Veronika was convinced she had misheard.
The traffic, the voices of pedestrians and the chirping sparrows could have distorted the words. She blinked.
“I’m sorry. What did you say?”
“The baby,” Galina Stepanovna repeated slowly, as though explaining something obvious to a complete idiot. “Will live with me. I’ll raise him properly.”
Veronika burst out laughing.
It was not real amusement, but the confused, nervous laughter that escaped when something was so absurd that you could not decide whether it was a joke or madness.
“Is this some kind of prank?” she asked, looking at her husband. “Anton, is this supposed to be a ridiculous joke?”
He remained silent.
“Anton!”
“Aunt Galya knows what’s best,” he finally muttered. “She has experience.”
“Experience?” Something cold began to move inside Veronika. “Are you suggesting that we give our son to your aunt? On what grounds?”
“On the grounds that you won’t be able to handle him,” Galina Stepanovna said. “You’re young, foolish and completely useless. I’ve seen you cook eggs. You burned them. What makes you think you can raise a child?”
“Burned eggs?” Veronika shook her head. “Are you seriously comparing cooking breakfast to raising a human being?”
“Don’t twist my words! Everything is connected. You’re helpless, that’s what you are. Your parents are exactly the same. The apple never falls far from the tree.”
Veronika took a deep breath.
She had to remain calm. Perhaps the woman was simply anxious. Perhaps this was her warped way of expressing concern.
“Galina Stepanovna,” she said evenly, “I understand that you’re worried. That’s natural. But Matvey is my son. He will live with Anton and me. You will be welcome to visit him.”
“Visit him?”
The aunt burst into harsh laughter.
“You little snake. Are you setting conditions for me? You’re going to allow me to visit my own grandson?”
“He isn’t your grandson. He is your great-nephew. And yes, I am setting conditions. He is my child.”
Anton grabbed his wife’s arm.
“Veronika, please. Don’t argue. Aunt Galya knows what she’s doing. She’s a wise woman.”
“Wise?” Veronika tore her arm free. “She is trying to steal my son outside the maternity hospital. Is that your definition of wisdom?”
“No one is stealing anyone!” Galina Stepanovna shrieked. “We are taking what belongs to us! This child is our blood. And who are you? You appeared out of nowhere, bewitched the boy and forced your way into our family. Did you think I couldn’t see what you were doing?”
Matvey began to cry—loudly and insistently.
Veronika held him closer and rocked him.
“Anton,” she said, looking directly into her husband’s eyes. “Look at me. Do you truly agree with this?”
“Aunt Galya…” he began.
“I am not asking about Aunt Galya! I am asking about you. You are this child’s father. You are my husband. Do you agree to give our son away?”
Silence followed.
It was long, heavy and suffocating.
Anton looked from his wife to his aunt. His face twisted as though he were attempting to solve a mathematical equation far beyond his abilities.
“It would be better this way,” he finally said. “For everyone.”
“For everyone?”
“For the family.”
Veronika stepped backward.
Then she took another step.
The ground beneath her feet was solid, but she felt as though she were falling through it. Not from weakness, but from disbelief.
“Three years,” she said quietly. “For three years, I tolerated everything she did. I told myself it was understandable. You loved your aunt. She had raised you. You owed her gratitude. But this…”
“Stop making a scene,” Galina Stepanovna said with a grimace. “People are watching.”
“Let them watch!” Veronika shouted. “Let everyone see how you are trying to take a newborn away from his mother on the day she leaves the hospital!”
“Who do you think you are?” the aunt snarled, stepping closer. “A penniless nobody. Your parents are nobodies, and so are you. But the boy belongs to us. He has our blood and our family name. We can provide for him, educate him and make something of him. What can you offer? Utility bills and torn stockings?”
“I can give him love.”
“Love!” Galina Stepanovna spat. “Love won’t buy diapers. Love won’t pay for doctors. Your love is worthless.”
Veronika stared at her in silence.
“Anton,” she said, making one final attempt. “I am asking you for the last time. Are you with me or with her?”
“Aunt Galya is right,” he whispered. “This would be better.”
“I understand.”
Veronika nodded.
“Then you and I are finished.”
She turned and walked back toward the hospital. Inside, she felt empty and cold. Waves of disappointment crashed over her.
“Stop!” Galina Stepanovna screamed. “Where are you going? Give us the baby!”
“Go to hell.”
“Anton! Stop her!”
Veronika heard footsteps behind her.
Heavy, hurried footsteps.
Anton was running after her.
She tried to move faster, but it was difficult with a newborn in her arms.
“Veronika!” He grabbed her shoulder. “Wait! Let’s talk!”
She turned around.
Panic filled his eyes—the same panic she had seen whenever he was late for an appointment with his aunt.
“There is nothing to discuss,” she said sharply. “Take your hand off me.”
“You misunderstood! Aunt Galya only wants to help!”
“Help?” Veronika laughed bitterly. “Taking my son away is supposed to be help?”
“She has experience. She knows how to raise children.”
“She knows how to manipulate people. And you are her most successful project.”
Anton flinched.
His fingers tightened around Veronika’s shoulder, gripping harder and causing pain.
“Give me the baby,” he said in a low voice. “Don’t make this more difficult than it needs to be.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“I’m asking you.”
“Your request sounds like an order. Take your hand off me, Anton. I will not say it again.”
“Listen…”
Galina Stepanovna caught up with them, panting, her face distorted with rage.
“Take him!” she shrieked. “Grab the baby! She’s insane! She’s mentally unstable! Child protection services will take him away from her anyway!”
Anton reached toward the bundle.
His fingers touched the blue blanket.
Matvey whimpered, his cry thin and frightened.
At that moment, something inside Veronika snapped.
She jerked backward and drove her elbow into her husband’s face.
It was a quick, forceful strike with a twist of her body, exactly as her father had taught her when she was younger—just in case she ever needed to defend herself.
Something cracked.
Anton howled and grabbed his nose. Blood ran between his fingers.
“You animal!” Galina Stepanovna screamed, lunging at Veronika. “Give me the baby, you filthy creature!”
Her fingernails dug into Veronika’s shoulder.
Veronika turned.
With her free hand, she grabbed the older woman’s hair and pulled with all the anger she had accumulated over three years.
A thick lock of hair remained in her fist.
Galina Stepanovna shrieked.
“Let go of me!” she screamed. “Help! She’s killing me!”
Veronika shoved her away.
The woman fell onto the pavement. Her blouse split along the seam, and her skirt rode up around her thighs.
Veronika stood over her.
“Get up,” she said calmly. “And listen very carefully.”
Galina Stepanovna whimpered as she struggled to rise.
Anton stood nearby, clutching his bleeding nose.
“You broke my face!” he said through his hands, his voice nasal. “You’re completely insane!”
“I protected my son from his own father. Think about that.”
“I’m calling the police!” the aunt squealed. “I’ll have you thrown in prison!”
“Go ahead.” Veronika shrugged. “You can explain how you tried to abduct a newborn from his mother. I’ll be delighted to give my statement.”
Galina Stepanovna froze.
A quick, calculating expression flashed in her eyes.
“This is a family matter,” she muttered. “Stay out of things that don’t concern you.”
“A family matter?”
Veronika gave a humorless laugh.
“Then we’ll settle it as a family. Anton, are you coming with me, or are you staying with her?”
Her husband looked from his wife to his aunt.
Blood dripped onto his shirt. He looked pathetic—confused, helpless and defeated.
“Aunt Galya…” he mumbled.
“That’s what I thought,” Veronika said with a nod. “We’re getting divorced.”
“What? No! Wait!”
“Wait for what? You just tried to take my son away on your aunt’s orders. What exactly am I supposed to wait for?”
“I didn’t want to do it! She forced me!”
“You are thirty-two years old, Anton. No one can force you. You made a choice.”
Galina Stepanovna got to her feet and brushed off her torn blouse. A bruise was already forming on her cheek, probably from hitting the ground. Her hair stuck out in every direction.
“You think you’ve won?” she hissed. “You stupid fool. You’ll get nothing. Not a single coin.”
“I don’t need your money.”
“Really? And what are you going to live on? Fresh air? Anton won’t give you anything. Without me, he is completely useless.”
“That is his problem.”
Veronika gently rocked her son.
Then she took out her phone and dialed a number.
“Who are you calling?” Anton asked nervously.
“My father. He’ll come and get us.”
“Us?”
“Matvey and me. You are no longer included in that word.”
“Veronika, please!” He stepped toward her. “Let’s talk about this properly!”
“Stay where you are,” she said, her voice turning to steel. “Do not come within ten feet of me. Otherwise, I’ll hit you again.”
“You can’t treat me like this!”
“I can, and I will.”
The phone rang.
Veronika waited, staring at her husband and his aunt—the two people she had once trusted.
The two people who had betrayed her on the most important day of her life.
“Dad?” she said when he answered. “Come to the maternity hospital. Yes, right now. Something happened. I’ll explain when you get here. No, I’m all right. Matvey is fine too. Just come.”
She ended the call.
Galina Stepanovna stared at her with hatred so pure and concentrated that it seemed almost corrosive.
“You’ll regret this,” she said through clenched teeth. “I swear you will.”
“I already have regrets,” Veronika replied. “I regret the three years I wasted on your family.”
Her father arrived twenty minutes later.
Nikolai Sergeyevich climbed out of the car. He was tall, gray-haired and carried a heavy, intimidating expression.
He took in the scene: his daughter holding the baby, Anton with a damaged nose and Galina Stepanovna in torn clothes.
Without asking a single question, he opened the rear door.
“Get in,” he told Veronika.
“Dad…”
“You can explain later. Get in.”
Veronika sat down.
Nikolai Sergeyevich turned toward Anton.
“You,” he said. “If you ever approach my daughter again without her permission, I will break both your arms. Do you understand?”
“You have no right…” Anton began.
“Shut your mouth! Do you understand?”
Something in his father-in-law’s voice made Anton fall silent.
He nodded.
Nikolai Sergeyevich got behind the wheel.
The car pulled away, leaving the maternity hospital, Anton and his aunt behind.
“Tell me what happened,” her father said without taking his eyes off the road.
Veronika told him everything, from Galina Stepanovna’s announcement to the physical struggle.
“You hit him in the face?” Nikolai Sergeyevich asked.
“His nose. I may have broken it.”
“Good girl.”
“Dad!”
“What? He tried to take my grandson. He got off lightly.”
Veronika fell silent.
Matvey was asleep again, warm and peaceful. He had no idea what had happened.
He did not know that his life had already changed.
“What am I supposed to do now?” she asked.
“Divorce him. Raise your son.”
“Is it really that simple?”
“Simple?” Her father snorted. “No. But you’ll manage. You’re my daughter.”
Her mother was waiting at the family apartment.
Svetlana Petrovna gasped when she saw Veronika.
“What happened? Why isn’t Anton with you? Where are your things?”
“Because Anton is spineless, and his aunt is a vile woman,” Nikolai Sergeyevich answered. “Feed your daughter. She’s exhausted.”
Later, after Matvey had been fed and put to sleep, Veronika sat at the kitchen table with a cup of tea.
Her parents remained quiet, giving her time.
“He’ll come here,” Veronika said. “Anton. He’ll try to get everything back.”
“Let him try,” her father muttered.
“I don’t want to see him.”
“Then you won’t. Your mother and I will deal with him.”
“Dad, this is my life. I need to handle it myself.”
“I know. But we are here.”
Anton appeared the following day.
He rang the doorbell timidly and uncertainly.
Nikolai Sergeyevich opened the door.
“I need to speak to Veronika,” Anton said.
“She doesn’t want to speak to you.”
“He is my child too. I have rights.”
“Rights?” Nikolai Sergeyevich laughed coldly. “Yesterday, you tried to tear him away from his mother. What rights do you think you have after that?”
“My aunt pressured me. You don’t understand.”
“I understand perfectly. You are a weak man who cannot defend his own family. Leave.”
“I need to talk to her!”
“Leave.”
Veronika stepped into the hallway.
When Anton saw her, his face brightened. A dark bruise and a strip of medical tape covered the bridge of his nose.
“Vera! I mean, Veronika! Thank God! I wanted to explain!”
“Then explain.”
“Aunt Galya cornered me. She said that if I didn’t take the baby, she would cut me out of her will. She owns the apartment, the country house and the car. Everything is registered in her name. I panicked, do you understand? I was frightened for our future.”
“For our future?” Veronika raised an eyebrow. “You tried to take my son away for the sake of our future?”
“I thought it would only be temporary! He would stay with her until everything settled down, and then…”
“And then what? She would simply give him back?”
“Well… yes.”
“You are either an idiot or a villain. Choose one.”
“Veronika!”
“Your aunt wanted to take my child permanently. That was obvious from her first sentence. You knew it too. You knew and helped her anyway.”
“I didn’t want to!”
“But you did. That is the difference.”
Anton glanced nervously at Nikolai Sergeyevich, who stood nearby with an expression carved from stone.
“Could we speak privately?” Anton asked.
“No,” Veronika replied. “Whatever you have to say, you can say in front of my father.”
“But this is personal!”
“Anything personal between us ended yesterday, when you chose your aunt.”
“I didn’t choose her! She raised me. I owe her everything!”
“Then go to her. Live with her. Have children with her too, if you can.”
“You’re cruel,” Anton whispered.
Veronika looked silently at the man she had shared her life with for three years.
“I am filing for divorce,” she said. “I’ll submit the application today.”
“No! Wait! We need to discuss this!”
“There is nothing to discuss.”
“What about Matvey? He is my son too!”
“You will be allowed to see him once a week under my supervision, provided you make the effort.”
“That’s humiliating!”
“No. Those are the consequences. You destroyed my trust. You can try to rebuild it, if you are capable.”
“What about Aunt Galya? She’s his grandmother!”
“She is nothing to him. And I forbid her from going anywhere near my son. Ever.”
“You can’t do that!”
“I already have.”
Anton clenched his fists.
Something dark appeared in his eyes—resentment, anger and helplessness.
“She always told me you were a vicious woman,” he hissed. “That you had a terrible personality. I never believed her. Now I see she was right.”
“Excellent. Then leave.”
“I’ll come back!”
“The door may open, but the outcome will be exactly the same.”
Nikolai Sergeyevich stepped forward.
“Leave,” he repeated. “While I’m still being polite.”
Anton backed away.
Then he turned and slammed the door.
Veronika exhaled.
“How are you?” her father asked.
“I’m fine. Strangely enough, I really am.”
“That feeling will pass.”
“What feeling?”
“The strangeness. Eventually, only the feeling of being fine will remain.”
A month passed.
Matvey grew plump and rosy-cheeked, with eyes the color of the summer sky.
Veronika looked at him and thought about the strange way life worked. A single day could destroy everything—and also become the beginning of something new.
The divorce proceedings moved forward.
Anton attempted to resist, though without much determination. Footage from the hospital’s security cameras confirmed that there had been an attempt to take the child from his mother.
Galina Stepanovna disappeared from sight. She kept quiet and licked her wounds.
The neighbors whispered. They said the woman had disgraced herself. People had seen her with torn-out hair after her daughter-in-law had beaten her.
Veronika refused to comment.
She simply did not care.
Her friend Polina visited one weekend, bringing flowers, gifts for the baby and a bottle of wine for the newly single mother.
“Tell me everything,” Polina demanded as she sat on the sofa. “And don’t leave out a single detail.”
Veronika told her the entire story.
Polina listened with increasingly wide eyes.
“You broke his nose?” she asked.
“With my elbow. I didn’t exactly plan it, but it was effective.”
“And you pulled out the aunt’s hair?”
“A fairly large handful.”
“You are my hero!” Polina clapped her hands. “Seriously! For three years, I watched you tolerate that old witch. You finally did it!”
“Finally did what?”
“Finally showed your teeth. You should have done it a long time ago.”
Veronika shrugged.
“I didn’t want conflict. I thought I could tolerate it and that eventually things would settle down. Love, marriage, family—all of that.”
“What family? Anton has always been nothing more than an accessory attached to his aunt.”
“I hoped he would change.”
“And did he?”
“No. But now I don’t care.”
Polina poured the wine.
“To you,” she said. “To a new life. And to your strength.”
“I’m not strong. I’m simply a mother. And thank you for the wine, but I’d better have juice.”
“It’s the same thing.”
They drank.
Matvey shifted in his crib, smacking his lips in his sleep.
“What are you going to do now?” Polina asked.
“Finish the divorce. Rebuild my life. Raise my son.”
“By yourself?”
“Why by myself? My parents are helping. You’re here. I’ll manage.”
“What if Anton comes back?”
“He already has. Three times this month.”
“And?”
“I don’t let him inside. He sees Matvey at the playground, and my father is always present.”
“What about the aunt?”
“Galina Stepanovna?” Veronika smiled. “She came here last week with a lawyer. She started talking about grandparents’ rights.”
“What did you do?”
“I explained to the lawyer that she is not Matvey’s grandmother. She is his father’s aunt. I also explained that I have the right to limit contact between my child and other relatives. The lawyer listened, nodded and left. Galina Stepanovna shouted after him that he was incompetent and dishonest.”
Polina burst out laughing.
“I can imagine her face!”
“It was extremely expressive.”
“Aren’t you worried she’ll try something else?”
“No. She has already lost everything. Anton is distancing himself from her. He may be weak, but he isn’t a complete fool. He finally understands that she set him up. The neighbors avoid her, and her reputation is ruined.”
“As they say, those who sow the wind reap the storm.”
“Exactly.”
The door opened.
Svetlana Petrovna came inside carrying several shopping bags.
“Girls,” she said. “He’s downstairs. Anton. He wants to talk.”
Veronika sighed.
“Again?”
“He says it’s important. He claims he’s willing to accept any conditions.”
“Let him come up.”
Polina looked at her in surprise.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. It’s time to make everything perfectly clear.”
Anton entered looking exhausted. His tie hung crookedly around his neck.
“Veronika,” he began. “Thank you for agreeing to see me…”
“Sit down. Speak quickly. I have company.”
He sat.
He looked at Polina, then at Svetlana Petrovna, and finally back at his wife.
“I would rather speak… privately.”
“No. You speak in front of everyone, or you don’t speak at all.”
Anton swallowed.
“All right. I’ve realized everything now. I was wrong. Aunt Galya manipulated me. She has been doing it my entire life. I only understand that now.”
“I’m happy for you.”
“I want to come back. To you and our son. I want to be a normal father and a normal husband.”
“Normal?” Veronika raised an eyebrow. “You behaved abnormally for three years, and now you have transformed in a month?”
“I’m working on myself.”
“Continue working. Just not with me.”
“Veronika!”
“You betrayed me on the most important day of my life. You tried to take my son away. You stood there while your aunt insulted me. I will never forgive that.”
“People change.”
“People may change. You don’t.”
“How could you possibly know that?”
“Because you did not change once during our three years together. You always chose her. Every single time. And had I not stopped you, you would have handed Matvey over to her without hesitation.”
Anton said nothing.
Tears gathered in his eyes.
“I love you,” he whispered.
“No. You love comfort. Life with me was convenient. Love is something else.”
“Then what is love?”
“Protection. Respect. Standing beside someone even when doing so is difficult or inconvenient. You never did any of those things.”
“I can learn.”
“Then learn. But you won’t practice on me or on my son.”
Polina quietly stood and went into the kitchen.
Svetlana Petrovna followed her.
For the first time in a month, Veronika was alone with Anton.
“One final chance,” he said. “Please. Give me one last chance.”
“I gave birth to your son. That was your chance, and you wasted it.”
“You’re cruel.”
“I’m honest. There is a difference.”
Anton stood.
His shoulders slumped.
“So that’s it?” he asked.
“Yes. The divorce will be finalized in two weeks. I initiated it, and it will happen. You will see Matvey according to my rules. Galina Stepanovna will never see him.”
“She’ll be devastated.”
“I don’t care.”
“She is still his great-aunt.”
“She is a woman who tried to steal my son. That is the only description that matters.”
Anton headed toward the door.
Then he stopped.
“You know,” he said quietly, “I always believed you were gentle and compliant. I thought you could be controlled.”
“A lot of people thought that. They were wrong.”
“Yes,” he said. “They were.”
He left.
The door closed behind him.
Veronika leaned back against the sofa.
Polina and Svetlana Petrovna returned from the kitchen.
“Is he gone?” her friend asked.
“He’s gone.”
“How are you feeling?”
“Good. Truly good.”
Svetlana Petrovna walked over and gently stroked her daughter’s hair.
“You did well,” she said. “Your father is proud of you. So am I.”
“Thank you, Mom.”
“What happens next?”
Veronika smiled.
She looked at the crib where her son was sleeping. Then she looked through the window at the new life waiting beyond it.
“What happens next?” she repeated. “Next, everything is going to be all right—because the worst is already behind us.”
And it was true.