— Vasya, is that you, dear?
— Yes, Mom, it’s me! Sorry I’m so late…
His mother’s voice, trembling with worry and fatigue, came from the dark hallway. She stood in an old robe, holding a flashlight — as if she had been waiting for him all her life.
— Vasya, my heart, where have you been wandering until so late? The sky is already black, the stars are shining like the eyes of forest animals…
— Mom, Dima and I were studying. Homework, preparation… I just lost track of time. Sorry I didn’t warn you. You sleep so badly…
— Or maybe you went to see a girl? — she suddenly squinted suspiciously. — Aren’t you in love or something?
— Mom, what nonsense! — Vasya laughed, taking off his boots. — I’m not the kind of guy girls wait for by the gate. And who would want a hunched guy like me — with hands like a monkey’s and a head like a weed bush?
But pain flashed in her eyes. She didn’t say that she saw not a freak, but the son she raised in poverty, in cold, in loneliness.
Vasya really wasn’t handsome. Barely over five foot three, hunched, with long arms like a baboon’s hanging nearly to his knees. His head was huge, with curly hair sticking out like dandelions. As a child, he was called “monkey,” “forest spirit,” “wonder of nature.” But he grew up — and became something more than just a person.
He and his mother, Galina Petrovna, came to this collective farm when he was only ten. They fled the city, poverty, shame — his father was imprisoned, his mother abandoned them. Only the two of them were left. Two against the whole world.
— Your Vasya is no good, — muttered Baba Taya, looking at the frail boy. — He’ll sink into the ground without a trace.
But Vasya didn’t sink. He clung to life like a root to stone. He grew, breathed, worked. And Galina — a woman with a heart of steel and hands crippled from the bakery — baked bread for the whole village. Ten hours a day, year after year, until she broke down herself.
When she lay down in bed, never to get up again, Vasya became both son and daughter, doctor and nurse. He washed floors, cooked porridge, read aloud old magazines. And when she died — quietly, like the wind leaving the field — he stood by her coffin, clenching his fists, and was silent. Because he had no tears left.
But people did not forget. Neighbors brought food, gave warm clothes. And then — unexpectedly — they started coming to him. First boys interested in radio electronics. Vasya worked at the radio station — repairing receivers, tuning antennas, patching wires. He had golden hands, even if they looked clumsy.
Then the girls appeared. At first — just to sit and have tea with jam. Then — to stay longer. To laugh. To talk.
And one day he noticed: one of them — Arina — always stayed last.
— Aren’t you in a hurry? — he asked once when everyone else had left.
— Nowhere to hurry to, — she answered quietly, looking down. — My stepmother hates me at home. Three brothers — rude, mean. Father drinks, and I’m extra to them. I live with a friend, but not forever… But with you — it’s quiet. Calm. Here I don’t feel lonely.
Vasya looked at her — and for the first time in his life understood that he might be needed.
— Live with me, — he said simply. — Mom’s room is empty. You will be the mistress. And I… I won’t ask for anything. Not a word, not a glance. Just be here.
People started talking. Whispering behind their backs.
— How can that be? A hunchback and a beauty? That’s ridiculous!
But time passed. Arina cleaned the house, cooked soup, smiled. And Vasya — worked, was silent, cared.
And when she gave birth to a son, the whole world turned upside down.
— Who does he look like? — they asked in the village. — Who?
But the boy, Denis, looked at Vasya and said: “Dad!”
And Vasya, who never thought he would become a father, suddenly felt something stirring in his chest, as if a little sun had opened up.
He taught Denis to fix outlets, catch fish, read syllables. And Arina, watching them, said:
— You should find a woman, Vasya. You’re not alone.
— You’re like a sister to me, — he replied. — First, I’ll marry you off. To a good, kind man. And then… we’ll see.
And such a man was found. Young, from a neighboring village. Honest. Hardworking.
They had a wedding. Arina left.
But one day Vasya met her on the road and said:
— I want to ask… Give me Denis.
— What? — she was shocked. — Why?
— I know, Arina. When you have children, your heart changes. And Denis… he’s not really yours. You’ll forget him. But I… I can’t.
— I won’t give him!
— I’m not taking him away, — Vasya said quietly. — You can take him visiting whenever you want. Just let him live with me.
Arina thought. Then called her son:
— Denis! Come here! Tell me: who do you want to live with — me or Dad?
The boy ran up, his eyes shining:
— Can’t I live like before? With mom and dad together?
— No, — Arina said sadly.
— Then I choose Dad! — he blurted out. — And you, Mom, come visit!
And that’s how it stayed.
Denis stayed. And Vasya — became a real father.
But one day Arina came again:
— We’re moving to the city. I’m taking Denis.
The boy howled like a wild animal, clinging to Vasya:
— I’m not going anywhere! I’m with Daddy! I’m with Daddy!
— Vasya… — Arina whispered, looking down. — He… he’s not yours.
— I know, — Vasya said. — I always knew.
— But I’ll still run to Dad! — Denis shouted, choking on tears.
And he ran away. Every time.
They took him away — he came back.
And finally, Arina gave up.
— Let him stay, — she said. — He chose.
And then — a new chapter.
Masha, a neighbor, lost her husband. A beast, drunkard, tyrant. God didn’t give them children because there was no place for love.
Vasya began visiting Masha for milk. Then to fix the fence, then the roof. And then — just to stop by. To drink tea. To talk.
They grew close. Slowly. Seriously. Like adults.
Arina wrote letters. She said: Denis has a little sister — Diana.
— Come visit, — Vasya wrote. — Family should be together.
A year later they came.
Denis never left his sister’s side. Carried her, sang lullabies, taught her to walk.
— Son, — Arina urged. — Live with us. In the city there’s circus, theater, the best school…
— No, — Denis shook his head. — I won’t leave Daddy. And Aunt Masha is already like a mother to me.
Then — school.
When boys boasted about fathers who were drivers, soldiers, engineers, Denis wasn’t ashamed.
— My dad? — he said proudly. — He fixes everything. He knows how the world works. He saved me. He’s my hero.
A year passed.
Masha and Vasya sat by the fireplace with Denis.
— We’re going to have a baby, — Masha said. — A little one.
— A-And you won’t throw me out? — Denis suddenly whispered.
— What are you talking about! — Masha exclaimed, hugging him. — You’re like a son to me. I dreamed of you all my life!
— Son, — Vasya said, looking into the fire. — How could you think that? You’re my light.
A few months later, Slavik was born.
Denis held his brother like a fragile treasure.
— I have a sister, — he whispered. — And a brother. And a dad. And Aunt Masha.
Arina kept calling.
But Denis always answered:
— I already came. I’m home.
Years passed. People forgot that Denis wasn’t blood. They stopped whispering.
And when Denis became a father, he told his children and grandchildren the story of the best dad in the world.
— He wasn’t handsome, — he said. — But he had more love than all the people I knew.
And every year, on the day of remembrance, everyone gathered in their home — Masha’s children, Arina’s children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren.
They drank tea, laughed, remembered.
— We had the best dad! — the adults said, raising their mugs. — Let there be more fathers like him!
And each time a finger pointed upward — to the sky, to the stars, to the memory of a man who, despite everything, became a father.
A real one.
The only one.
Unforgettable.