Misfortune came to this happy family so suddenly that it was hard even to believe. Just yesterday, everything was still fine. Mom was at home with her younger son, Dad was earning a decent living, the middle daughter was attending school and had started taking piano lessons, and the eldest had just entered university. They all loved and cared for one another and spent their free time together. And then, in a single day, it all fell apart.
The parents had gone out shopping. The eldest daughter, Nadya, was looking after the two younger children. While Vera worked on her homework, two-year-old Timur was trying to stack his rings.
“Wrong—first comes the yellow ring. Where’s the yellow one?”
The little boy, who had just turned two, happily held up a blue ring.
“No,” Nadya smiled. “That’s blue—here’s the yellow one!”
At that very moment, the ringtone on Nadya’s phone sounded.
And in the next second, a scream tore from her throat.
“Your parents have died. I’m so sorry…”
Those words rang in Nadya’s ears long afterward. They were spoken in a matter-of-fact tone, as if the speaker were announcing something trivial instead of delivering the worst news imaginable.
Nadya’s parents had been in a crash—a head-on collision at high speed. Some reckless driver veered into oncoming traffic and left the children orphans.
What followed was a nightmare for anyone. Aunt Tamara, their mother’s sister, helped with the funeral arrangements. Vera sank into a deep depression and didn’t want to speak with anyone. Little Timur hardly understood what had happened; he kept tugging at Nadya, asking, “Where’s Mama?” That always brought tears to her eyes.
Once the funeral was over came the realization that they had to plan for the future. As much as Nadya wanted to mourn, she knew decisions had to be made.
Suddenly, an overwhelming weight of responsibility landed on her shoulders. She was already an adult, and her brother and sister were entirely dependent on her. Vera was ten and fairly self-sufficient, but Timur was only two—too young even for daycare.
And Nadya was in university, focused on her studies. Honestly, she wasn’t ready at her age to step into a mother’s role.
Vera remained in the depths of depression and was difficult to care for. Timur was cranky, longing for his mother. And though Nadya was legally an adult, she still felt like a child herself.
They also needed money. If Nadya applied for guardianship, she’d receive some support—but it wouldn’t be nearly enough for all three of them.
She had worked too hard to get into university just to give it up. If she didn’t quit, how could she manage? She needed to look after her brother and earn income at the same time.
Sleepless nights followed as Nadya tossed and turned, cursing the driver who had stolen their parents—and stolen their happy childhoods as well as her youth.
A week after the funeral, Nadya gave in. She went to her aunt in the hope of getting help.
“Aunt Tamara,” she pleaded, “I can’t replace parents. Please become their guardian, and I’ll help however I can—babysit, take Timur to daycare, go on walks…”
Aunt Tamara hesitated. She wasn’t prepared for this.
“Nadenka,” she said, “where would I fit two more children? I have three of my own and can barely manage. My youngest just started daycare, and I returned to work. I couldn’t stay home again to look after Timur.”
“We could put him in a private nursery if they won’t take him in the public one,” Nadya offered. “I’ll pick up side jobs to pay for it.”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t,” Aunt Tamara replied.
“Please, at least take Timur!” Nadya begged. “I can manage Vera—she doesn’t need constant supervision. Tell me, how am I supposed to juggle university and a toddler? No one will help me!”
“I know it’s hard for you,” Aunt Tamara said gently, “and the only thing I can advise is to place them in an orphanage.”
“Are you serious?” Nadya gasped.
“Completely serious. You’ll ruin your youth and end up resenting them. In an orphanage, you can still visit them, maybe even get permission to bring them home sometimes. Nadya,” she smiled sympathetically, “I feel for you, but you’re just a young girl. You can’t cope, and I can’t either. You have only one option.”
On the way home, Nadya seriously considered her aunt’s suggestion. She was exhausted—emotionally drained, and her studies were about to resume. Home was a nightmare: Vera couldn’t smile, Timur was miserable, and everyone expected Nadya to be strong—when she, too, had just lost her parents. How could she handle it all? Maybe Aunt Tamara was right: if Nadya sacrificed her life, she would later hate her brother and sister. Perhaps an orphanage really would provide better care.
When she arrived home, Nadya arranged for the neighbor to look after Timur and sat on the couch, tears flowing, trying to think how to break her decision to Vera. How could she explain that she had no strength left to raise them?
Timur climbed into her lap. “Don’t cry,” he whispered, hugging her. “I love you.”
But his words only made things worse. At that moment, Vera finally emerged from her room. In all those days, she’d spoken only a few words.
She sat down beside Nadya and pressed herself against her.
“You wouldn’t leave us, would you?” she asked softly.
And in that instant Nadya knew she couldn’t. She would never be happy if she sent her beloved brother and sister away. They had all lost their parents, and they needed each other now more than ever—for support and for love.
“I won’t leave you,” she whispered. “I’ll apply for guardianship. I hope they approve it.”
Nadya found a job. Her guardianship was granted, and the children stayed with her.
Each morning, she took Timur to the nursery, which, thankfully, welcomed him into the toddler group. In the evenings, Vera picked him up because after classes Nadya had to rush to work. Vera prepared his meals and put him to bed, and late at night Nadya would return home.
It was incredibly hard, but they stayed together and never complained.
Nadya graduated from university and began her career. Things became easier then, and Timur had grown before long—old enough for school.
Whenever Aunt Tamara visited, she praised how strong and close-knit they were. But Nadya never mentioned their earlier conversation—she couldn’t bear to hear Aunt Tamara’s admiration. After all, it was Aunt Tamara who suggested sending the children away and never offered any real help. Everything they achieved—Nadya, Vera, and Timur achieved together.
When Nadya met her future husband, she immediately told him she had two children—her brother and sister—but that she had become their mother, and they came first.
By the time Nadya married, Vera had started university in another city and only came home for visits. Timur lived with Nadya and her husband, and he adored the male role model in his life—fishing trips and visits to the shooting range replaced the attention he’d been missing.
Once, when Vera was visiting, she told Nadya how grateful she was. She was now the same age Nadya had been when their parents died, and she couldn’t imagine how Nadya had borne such responsibility.
“I couldn’t have done it—I’m not as strong as you,” Vera said.
“Only you think that,” Nadya smiled. “Strength appears when you must protect those you love. And you and Timur have always supported me—you never complained.”
“We were just so afraid of losing you,” Vera admitted.
Not once did Nadya regret her decision. When she later had her own children, she shuddered at the thought of having sent her brother and sister to an orphanage. She could never have forgiven herself. She was glad she was brave enough to become their mother.