“Well, Valyusha, are you going dress shopping with your girlfriends today?” Lev Zakharovich inquired, looking at his daughter. “If you need anything, just let me know, and I’ll transfer more money to your card, just in case.”
“Oh, Dad,” Valentina chuckled, “I’m not planning to buy anything from Dior. We’re just looking for something unique, maybe designer, but I’m not going on a spending spree.”
Lev Zakharovich admired his daughter’s modesty and wise financial habits, traits he had nurtured in her, though he sometimes felt she took her frugality to extremes.
“My dear, you know I’d do anything to make you happy?” he asked with a gentle smile. “I even warmed up to your Igor, though I think you’re rushing into marriage…”
“Dad, let’s not start this again,” Valentina pleaded. “I’ve told you, Igor is the one for me. It’s like fate brought us together!”
“I understand,” Lev Zakharovich said, raising his hands in a gesture of peace. “It’s not about that. Just remember, I’m here for anything you need for your wedding. Isn’t that what I worked for all these years?”
In that moment, the warmth in Valentina’s eyes reminded him so much of her mother.
“Thanks, Dad. You’re the best!” She got up and leaned over the table to give him a hug.
After a quick kiss on the cheek, Valentina rushed to her room to prepare for her shopping day. Lev Zakharovich sat back, a trace of sorrow crossing his mind. “Oh, my dear, if only your mother could see you now. She’d be so proud,” he thought wistfully.
Inessa Mikhailovna, his wife and Valentina’s mother, had passed away when Valentina was only four, succumbing rapidly to a severe hereditary blood disorder that doctors couldn’t halt in time. Her passing had left a dark shadow on Lev Zakharovich’s heart…
Raising Valentina almost by himself thereafter, he occasionally relied on nannies and later, a governess who assisted with her schooling and homework.
Valentina grew into a perceptive and mature young woman, excelling academically and gaining admission to one of the capital’s top universities.
Lev Zakharovich had built his fortune through relentless hard work, starting as a bank clerk and rising to manage a major banking network. Yet, managing such a vast enterprise had taken its toll on his health, with increasing bouts of heart issues and high blood pressure.
Then, in her final university year, Valentina met Igor, her prospective husband, catching her father completely by surprise as she had always been solely focused on her studies.
And so it happened that at a college party, one Valya was hesitant to attend, she met an intriguing man who would capture her heart. Valya wasn’t even planning to go, but fate had other plans. At the party, she encountered a tall, thin man with piercing dark blue eyes that immediately drew her in.
“Dad, can you believe it? Igor approached me and asked if I liked Turgenev,” Valya excitedly recounted to her father. “He said he saw a book of Turgenev’s poems sticking out of my bag. I adore Turgenev! It’s rare to meet someone nowadays who appreciates classic poetry.”
Valya excitedly shared more about Igor. They shared the same taste in music, movies, and even had similar academic backgrounds, having attended the same university department, albeit in different years. The connection was undeniable, creating a perfect harmony between them. Despite this, her father, Lev Zakharovich, felt uneasy about Igor. Something about the young man didn’t sit right with him, though he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. It was as if Igor had an ulterior motive.
Yet, how could he deny his daughter’s happiness? With a reluctant heart, Lev gave his blessing for the marriage and even agreed to bear most of the wedding expenses.
On the wedding day, a sleek, pearl-pink limousine led a procession of immaculate white luxury cars through the city’s main boulevards. Valentina was radiant in her exquisite white dress, adorned with hand-stitched embroidery and glittering crystals, clutching her traditional bridal bouquet. The air was thick with her anticipation of the approaching ceremony.
In a short time, Valentina and Igor would be at the registry office, exchanging vows and rings, officially uniting as life partners. The thought made Valya’s heart race with excitement.
After the ceremony, the newlyweds and their guests would continue the celebration at a specially rented venue, where an unforgettable day awaited them, as promised by her father. The venue was prepared for a grand festivity that would accommodate all 120 guests with exceptional entertainment.
In the limousine, Valya glanced at Igor and gently placed her hand over his. Igor, momentarily lost in thought, turned to look at her, his eyes filled with a mix of joy and nervous anticipation.
“Is everything okay?” Valya inquired, noticing the distant look in Igor’s eyes.
“Yes,” she reassured him, giving his fingers a gentle squeeze. “You just seemed a bit distracted. Are you more anxious than I am?”
Her question was genuine, reflecting her own nervous excitement. It was comforting for her to think they were in sync, even in such minor details.
“Of course,” Igor replied with a smile. “Today needs to be flawless. It’s just unfortunate that Lev Zakharovich can’t be with us…”
“I feel the same,” Valya responded with a sigh. “But I promised him the best photo session ever. I want Dad to feel like he was here with us when he sees the pictures.”
Regrettably, Valentina’s father had to miss the wedding. He had experienced severe chest pains the morning before, and his doctor had advised against attending events that could lead to stress or involve alcohol.
“Don’t worry, Valyusha,” her father had comforted her over the phone. “I’ll take it easy and recover quickly.” He managed a weak smile. “It’s a shame, but at least I’ve arranged for a top-notch photographer, so I’ll be with you in spirit and see everything on the big screen later.”
Valya was deeply saddened by her father’s absence and health issues, yet she knew his well-being was more important.
Suddenly, the wedding limousine halted unexpectedly. Confused, Valya rolled down the window and peered out to see what had caused the stop.
The procession had paused for an elderly man, about fifty years old, who was crossing the street slowly with an old baby stroller. At first, Valya thought it might contain a child, but as the man reached the middle of the crosswalk, she noticed it was filled with empty bottles and bits of cardboard.
The man, evidently homeless, used the stroller to collect recyclables for some extra money. Despite his circumstances, he was dressed in clean, although worn, clothes. He didn’t appear drunk, but rather moved with the caution of someone unwell, perhaps too weak or ill to hasten his steps. Valya watched sympathetically, hoping he wouldn’t stumble in his fragile state.
“Could you speed up a bit? We’ve got a wedding caravan here!” the limo driver called out, pressing on the beggar to hurry.
Igor shifted restlessly in his seat, peeking out the window before settling back with a sigh; the delay was clearly getting under his skin.
“Has he cleared off yet?” the groom grumbled.
“How would I know? He’s stuck there like he’s glued to the spot,” the driver lamented, thumping the steering wheel.
The horn blared loudly, and at that moment, the beggar turned and locked eyes with Valentina. He paused, staring at her silently. Tears soon shimmered in his eyes.
“Anastasia! My child!” he exclaimed suddenly, limping quickly toward the bride.
Valentina was taken aback, unsure how to respond.
“Child! My beloved! Why didn’t you reach out sooner? I thought I had lost you… Let me embrace you…” the man pleaded, moving to hug her.
“Hold on,” Valentina deftly avoided his grasp, “I’m not sure what you’ve been through, but I’m not your daughter. And my name isn’t Anastasia.”
The beggar halted, his gaze filled with profound sorrow:
“So you’ve forgotten me, have you? It’s okay, it’s okay… I understand—who wants to remember an old drifter?..”
“Igor?!” Valentina called to her fiancé worriedly, prompting him to leap from the limo.
“What are you doing?” he confronted the man sharply, “We told you—you’re mistaken! Quit your ramblings; you’ve frightened the bride… Just leave before things get worse!”
The old man regarded him as though he was invisible:
“Don’t speak to me that way, youngster,” the old man replied calmly, “I am your elder and I deserve respect…”
“What???” Igor’s voice rose, and he made a move towards the old man.
Valentina, darting from the car, intervened just in time; she noticed the beggar’s flushed face and shaky stance indicating fever and illness.
“Igor, why act like this? That wasn’t my intention…” For the first time, Valentina looked at her fiancé with disappointment. “This man is unwell. Don’t you see he’s sick?”
Valentina’s empathy for the destitute was sincere. Despite her affluence, she remained compassionate towards those in hardship.
“We should call the authorities,” Igor insisted stubbornly, “Who knows what this old trickster is plotting…”
“Goodness, stop the absurdity!” Valentina protested. “He merely confused me for his daughter, that’s all! Perhaps she’s lost, or worse… No, I can’t just ignore this…”
With that, she walked over to one of the white vehicles, withdrew some bills from her wallet, and handed them to the driver:
“Here, take this—and please, take him to a hospital.”
She gestured towards the beggar, who still stood nearby, his head bowed and shaking from the fever, holding onto his cart out of habit, and wiping tears from his weathered face with the other hand.
“Absolutely, Valentina Lvovna, we’ll handle it with utmost care,” the chauffeur assured, helping the frail man into the vehicle.
As the car pulled away, Valya instinctively pressed her hand against her forehead, feeling the stress-induced ache starting to build. She took a deep breath to steady herself when Igor’s frustrated voice reached her from behind:
“Valya, are we going to actually get married today or what? This delay over some street guy has set us back twenty minutes already!”
Valentina turned to Igor, and for the first time since they met, she questioned if she truly understood the man she was about to marry. She rationalized that his harshness was probably due to wedding jitters and a fear for her safety, yet a part of her remained unsettled.
Despite the delay, Igor and Valentina’s ceremony went ahead. Igor seemed agitated until the moment they were officially declared husband and wife. Once the ring was on her finger, he finally eased up, beaming as he announced to everyone, “Now, let’s head to the celebration, friends!”
The guests erupted into cheers, following the couple out to a grand reception. The celebration was filled with exquisite live music—thanks to Lev Zakharovich’s arrangements—a sumptuous meal, and entertaining contests led by a master of ceremonies.
Yet, Valentina couldn’t shake off her encounter with the homeless man. His plea for his daughter lingered in her mind, making her think of her own father’s potential despair if their roles were reversed.
Days later, driven by a need to do more, Valentina got the hospital’s details from the driver and visited the man, identified as Gleb Ivanovich. She first confirmed his condition with the chief physician, who reassured her that, despite severe pneumonia, the man was resilient. “Danilov’s tough, but it was touch-and-go. Your intervention was timely,” the doctor informed her.
Valentina knocked gently on the hospital room door, and upon entering, the man’s face lit up, mistaking her again for his daughter, “Oksana, my child! Come in! How relieved I am to see you!”
Smiling softly, Valentina corrected him, “Gleb Ivanovich, I’m not Oksana. I’m Valentina, daughter of Lev Zakharovich Belodvortsev. Why do you think I am your relative?”
The man’s initial joy dimmed as he digested her words, a mix of confusion and realization crossing his features. “How could it be? I raised you from a baby… Don’t you remember your mother at all?”
Valentina gently shook her head, “My mother passed when I was very young. I was raised by my father alone. I’m sorry, but I can’t be your daughter.”
Understanding dawned on Gleb Ivanovich, and with a heavy sigh, he asked, “Then why are you here? I appreciate the help, truly, but if you’re not my Oksana, what brings you?”
Valentina’s response was filled with compassion, “I’m here because I want to help. Let’s start by understanding how you found yourself in this situation. Maybe there’s something more I can do to help.”
Danilov released a heavy sigh and extended his hands in resignation.
“What else can be done? I share some of the blame for my own misfortune,” he admitted, visibly anxious as he fidgeted with the blanket.
He then began to share his tale of woe:
“It began three years ago. Back then, I was just like anyone else—employed at a steel mill, with a lovely wife and a dear daughter, Oksanochka, the light of my life…”
His gaze shifted to Valya, this time filled with sorrow.
“The trouble started when Oksana, who managed a travel agency, was dispatched to St. Petersburg for work. She had to transport a significant amount of money. I tried everything to talk her out of it—I was terrified for her, a young woman traveling alone with such responsibility.”
Tears welled up in Gleb Ivanovich’s eyes as he recalled the memory:
“Ultimately, she never arrived in St. Petersburg… What happened remains a mystery. Vera, my wife, was devastated, lost in despair for months because the police couldn’t locate Oksana, and without a body, we couldn’t even give her a proper funeral…”
His fists clenched tightly, Gleb muttered through his tears:
“The world is so cruel! She was kind-hearted, never harmed a soul, always eager to help others…”
He sobbed quietly before adding softly:
“Vera passed away from a heart attack a year later, leaving me utterly alone.”
“I’m terribly sorry,” Valentina responded sincerely.
Gleb nodded and concluded his story:
“Her passing broke me. I drowned my sorrows in drink, hoping to die in my sleep and join my family. Then, I was swindled by fraudsters who tricked me into signing away my apartment. I was left homeless, wandering from shelter to shelter, surviving on whatever fate brings…”
“Do you ever think about getting out of this situation?” Valya asked gently.
“Why bother?” Gleb looked at her despondently. “What’s the point when the two people I cherished most are gone? I doubt Oksana is alive. She’s probably with Vera now, wherever that is…”
His expression then shifted as he reached for a shirt on the dresser, retrieving a small photograph from its pocket.
“Here, have a look, my dear,” he said, handing it to Valya. “This is my Oksanochka. I always keep her close to my heart…”
Taking the photo, Valentina studied the face of the young girl. Suddenly, she felt a chill, her body trembling, her heart racing.
Despite the photo’s worn condition, the girl’s face—strikingly similar to Valya’s—was unmistakable. Though the hairstyle and attire differed from Valya’s, the facial features and even the eye color were uncannily alike.
“My God! We look identical!” Valya exclaimed, astonished by the resemblance.
Gleb nodded with a weak smile:
“What can I say? It’s inexplicable—how could my daughter have such a perfect ‘double’?”
Valentina’s expression turned serious, and she resolved firmly:
“I don’t know about doubles, but I will find out what happened to your Oksana. I promise.”
With that, Valya bid farewell to Gleb and hurried to her father. Despite her shock, she knew the only person who might hold the answers was at home, in his office.
When her father, Lev Zakharovich, heard of the situation and the possibility of Valya having a twin, he initially dismissed it as a jest. But as Valya pressed for answers, he became evasive, reluctant to delve into the matter.
As Valentina relayed the saga of Gleb Ivanovich’s anguish and his family’s tragic fate, Lev Zakharovich’s demeanor softened. He motioned for his daughter to sit as he prepared to disclose the full truth about her origins.
“Valya, my dear, don’t take what I’m about to say too hard,” her father cautioned, “Remember, your mother and I have always loved you dearly. That’s what truly matters.”
“What do you mean, ‘loved me as your own’?” Valentina questioned, her brow furrowing in confusion. “Are you saying I was adopted?”
“Not quite,” Lev Zakharovich exhaled deeply. “The truth is, Inessa and I were unable to have children of our own. Despite trying every possible treatment, we faced the harsh reality of infertility. It devastated Inessa, and out of desperation, I suggested we consider surrogacy…”
“Surrogacy?” Valya echoed, her voice tinged with disbelief.
“Yes, it was a gray area legally at the time,” her father admitted, avoiding her gaze, “But we met a woman named Vera who agreed to help us. She was in dire need financially and lived in poor conditions.”
Valentina felt the room spin as she absorbed the gravity of her father’s words.
“Vera was pregnant with twins by a man who later abandoned her,” Lev continued. “She was out of options, too far along to consider other alternatives.”
“So, I’m not your biological child?” Valentina’s voice was barely above a whisper, her complexion pale.
“That’s irrelevant,” her father reassured her quickly. “We didn’t formalize any agreement; it was all based on trust. Vera was true to her word and after the twins were born, she kept one child and entrusted the other to us. She used the money we provided to secure a better future for herself and her remaining child.”
Valentina was torn. On one hand, her father’s confession revealed a crime, but on the other, it seemed they had also provided a lifeline to Vera and her family.
“Inessa learned later that Vera married a decent man who adopted the child,” Lev concluded. “That man is likely Danilov, though he probably knows nothing of the agreement with Vera. We asked her to keep it secret.”
As the weight of the revelation settled, Valentina gripped the chair, feeling faint.
“So, I have a twin sister—Oksana, the woman Gleb Ivanovich mistook me for,” she murmured, piecing the puzzle together. Her father watched anxiously, aware of the emotional storm brewing within her.
“But dear, Oksana is gone. There’s nothing to be done, and Gleb Ivanovich’s situation is beyond our help. Although, I could try to find him some work,” Lev suggested half-heartedly.
Valentina’s resolve hardened. “No, Dad. The police never found her body. There’s a chance Oksana is still out there, and I need to find her. Will you help me?”
“Anything for you,” Lev agreed reluctantly, realizing the depth of Valentina’s determination.
“Thank you, Dad. I have to do this,” she affirmed, ready to embark on the search.
However, Igor, Valentina’s husband, was less than supportive. Viewing his father-in-law’s wealth as a future inheritance, he saw Valentina’s quest as a threat to his plans.
“Valya, why chase shadows?” Igor chided her. “If she hasn’t been found in three years, she’s likely gone or hiding. Let’s not waste resources on a futile search.”
Despite his protests, Valentina’s mind was made up. She was determined to unravel the mystery of her sister’s disappearance, driven by a newfound purpose that went beyond the confines of her husband’s narrow ambitions.
Valentina furrowed her brow and quietly confronted her husband:
“Why are you suddenly so preoccupied with Dad’s finances? Igor, your behavior has changed—I hardly recognize you anymore!”
“What’s so unusual if I’m just trying to bring some sense into my overly idealistic wife?” Igor softened his voice, gently wrapping his arms around Valentina’s waist. “I’m not stopping you from looking for anyone, just… Let’s not be hasty. Perhaps your Oksana will show up on her own when she feels it’s time.”
Valya decided not to argue further but instead discreetly hired three private investigators, each charged with unearthing any clues about the missing woman. Believing firmly that at least one investigator would find a lead, Valentina held on to hope.
As weeks turned into two months with no significant findings, Valya was nearing despair when an unexpected call came from Semyon Alekseyevich, the most seasoned of the detectives.
“Valentina Lvovna, it’s time to celebrate. We’ve got a promising lead. The woman you’re looking for is living in a secluded village in the taiga, posing as the wife of a local forester. She appeared there three years ago; before that, no one knows her history.”
“What name does she use?” Valya inquired, her voice trembling.
“One detail doesn’t add up,” the detective hesitated. “Her husband calls her Anfisa, but I suspect he’s concealing something.”
“Why do you think that?” Valya was puzzled.
“The twist is, Anfisa was the name of the forester’s deceased wife, who was killed by a bear five years ago at their lodge.”
“Really?” Valentina’s interest piqued, “We should definitely investigate this lead.”
“You should know, the villagers claim this new Anfisa looks much like the previous one, yet everyone agrees she’s not the same person,” Semyon added.
“I’ll catch the next flight there,” Valentina resolved, and promptly ended the call.
Upon arriving at the remote forester’s sturdy log house, Valya was greeted by a scene straight from a pastoral painting: chickens pecking around and a goat leisurely grazing. The door opened to reveal a woman who could have been Valya’s mirror image. This had to be Oksana, cradling a curious one-year-old boy.
“Hello, who might you be looking for?” the forester’s wife asked calmly, oblivious to their striking resemblance.
“I came to see you, Anfisa, is that correct?”
“Yes,” the woman answered slowly, studying Valya’s features more closely. A spark of recognition flashed across her face.
“Heaven help us!” Anfisa gasped, stepping back, “Who are you? What do you want from Petechka and me?? Why do we look so alike?!”
As she raised her voice in alarm, her husband emerged and quickly took in the scene.
“Calm down, my love, she’s not here to harm us,” he reassured his wife. “I believe she just wants to talk.”
“That’s correct, there’s something important I need to share,” Valentina said.
Once everyone settled and a kettle whistled on the stove, Valentina, now sitting with Anfisa and her husband Fyodor, began to unravel the mystery.
“Gleb Ivanovich… Dad…” Oksana murmured, struggling to piece together her fragmented memories. “I’m sorry, I can’t remember anything. Fyodor found me in the forest near the railway, injured and without memory.”
“That matches,” Fyodor confirmed. “I found her bleeding, apparently thrown from a train and robbed.”
Oksana’s memories slowly resurfaced, and with them, the realization of her true identity.
“Wait—you mean we’re sisters?” she said, shock giving way to understanding.
“I was shocked too when I first discovered the truth,” Valya smiled.
Little Petia tugged at Valya’s trousers, drawing a tender smile from her.
“So cute! Is he your son with Fyodor?”
Blushing, Oksana nodded, and Fyodor explained their bond and Petia’s unfortunate heart condition requiring expensive surgery.
“But money is no issue!” Valentina assured eagerly. “Let’s get him the best medical help.”
Emotionally overwhelmed, Oksana embraced Valentina, now seen not as a doppelgänger but a savior.
Later, Valentina arranged for Petia’s successful surgery in the city. Oksana, reintroduced to her father, embraced him tearfully, regretting the years lost.
Meanwhile, back at home, Lev Zakharovich uncovered Igor’s deceitful search for valuables. Exposed, Igor faced legal consequences for his actions.
Divorced and free of Igor’s machinations, Valentina later met Yaroslav, a lawyer, and they married, expecting their first child. Through all the twists of fate, Valentina found not just her sister but a newfound family unity, exemplifying resilience and the unexpected kindness life can offer.