Natasha carefully folded the tiny baby shirts into a bag and zipped up her purse. Tomorrow she would be discharged from the maternity hospital, and she could hardly wait for the moment when she would finally be home with little Masha. At forty-two years old, she was becoming a mother for the first time, and it felt like a true miracle after so many years of waiting.
“Well, Natasha, are you ready for tomorrow?” peeked into the ward a familiar nurse, Nina, a kind woman with a voluminous mane of hair. “What time is your husband coming?”
Natasha hesitated. The question she feared had been asked.
“You know, Ninochka, most likely I’ll get there myself with the baby,” she tried to smile as carefreely as possible. “My husband is on a business trip, and my brother… he has his own things going on.”
Nina frowned.
“How come—by yourself? With a newborn? No, that won’t do. Maybe you could ask a friend?”
Natasha shook her head. Friends had moved away or were busy with their own families. She couldn’t exactly explain that at forty-two, she still had no close people she could rely on at a moment like this.
“I’ll manage, don’t worry,” she said firmly. “I’m not the first and won’t be the last.”
Nina shook her head but didn’t insist. In the maternity ward, all sorts of things happened—very young moms abandoned by their boys, older women who decided to have a child without a husband. Natasha didn’t fit into any of those categories—she was cultured, well-groomed, wearing a wedding ring. But life happens.
Left alone, Natasha thought about the empty apartment that awaited her. No balloons, no “Congratulations on your new arrival!” posters, no relatives to meet her. Just her and little Masha in the whole world.
Her husband Oleg really was on a business trip. At least, that’s what he said two weeks ago when he packed his things and left the house. Natasha still couldn’t believe it had happened exactly like that—just a month before the birth of their long-awaited child.
“Sorry, Natasha, but I’m not ready,” he said then, avoiding her eyes. “I thought I could handle it, but it’s not for me. The baby, the diapers, the sleepless nights… I’m forty-five, I want to live for myself. You wanted a child.”
She didn’t cry, didn’t scream, didn’t beg him to stay. She just watched as he packed his bag and felt the world she had built for ten years collapse. The pregnancy was unexpected—they had stopped hoping for children at their age and seemed resigned. And when the miracle happened, Natasha was over the moon with happiness. She thought Oleg was happy too. He went with her to ultrasounds, picked out a name, planned the nursery… And then suddenly everything changed.
“I’ll help financially,” he said at the end. “But don’t expect me to play the happy father role. It’s not me, and I warned you.”
Since then, she hadn’t received a single call or message from him. Only dry money transfers to the card labeled “For expenses.” Without a word about the baby, without asking how the birth went, without congratulations on the daughter’s birth.
And her brother Viktor… things were more complicated with him. After their parents died, they hardly communicated. He lived his own life in a nearby town, and Natasha didn’t dare ask him for help. When she finally called to tell him about the birth of his niece, he was polite but distant.
“Congrats, Natasha. Sorry, but I can’t come—work, you know. Maybe I’ll drop by later.”
The phone vibrated—it was a message. For a moment, Natasha’s heart skipped—what if it was Oleg? But no, it was just a newsletter from a baby products store. She bitterly smiled at her own naivety. What was she expecting? That he would suddenly come to his senses and rush with a bouquet of roses to take them home from the hospital?
The morning of discharge was hectic. Nurses helped Natasha dress the baby, the doctor gave final instructions, and voices of other happy mothers being met by relatives were already heard in the corridor.
“Natalya Petrovna Sokolova!” called the duty nurse. “They’re waiting for you to complete the paperwork.”
Natasha’s heart fluttered. The moment she both awaited and feared had come. She took the swaddled Masha in her arms and stepped into the corridor.
At the registration desk stood the head of the ward with a folder of documents.
“Sign here and here. Here is your discharge form and care recommendations for the baby. A visiting nurse will come to see you tomorrow.”
Natasha nodded, trying to hold Masha with one hand and sign with the other.
“And who will meet you?” asked the head, glancing at the empty corridor behind Natasha.
“I… I’m alone,” Natasha felt her cheeks flush. “I’ll call a taxi.”
The head frowned.
“Maybe call someone?”
“There’s no one,” Natasha answered quietly, feeling a lump rise in her throat. “My husband… he left us. And I have no close relatives.”
At that moment, loud voices and laughter came from around the corner. Natasha turned and froze in surprise.
Approaching them was a “delegation”: Nurse Nina, whom Natasha knew casually, a cleaning lady, and a young intern from the emergency department. They carried pink balloons and a large poster reading “Congratulations, Mommy!”
“What is this?” Natasha asked, bewildered.
“We’re your support group,” Nina winked. “We decided no one should leave the maternity hospital alone, especially such a wonderful mother like you.”
“But… how…” Natasha was speechless.
“And I called a taxi for you,” Nina added. “The driver is experienced, my cousin, the car has a child seat, everything as it should be.”
Tears welled in Natasha’s eyes.
“Thank you, Nina,” she whispered. “I don’t know what to say.”
“No need to say anything,” Nina smiled. “Just remember, you’re not alone in this world. And neither is this little one.”
They saw Natasha off to the maternity hospital exit, where a taxi really waited. Nina helped place Masha in the special seat, and the cleaning lady handed Natasha the balloons.
As the taxi pulled away, Natasha looked back at the people standing by the hospital entrance who had just yesterday been merely medical staff and today had become so much more. They waved goodbye, and in that moment, she realized she would never forget them.
The trip home took about twenty minutes. The driver, who introduced himself as Mikhail, was a talkative middle-aged man.
“I have three kids myself,” he said proudly, glancing at Natasha through the rearview mirror. “So don’t worry, we’ll get your princess there safe and sound.”
When they arrived at the house, Mikhail helped Natasha unload her things and even carried the bag up to the apartment.
“Thank you so much,” Natasha said, handing him money for the ride.
“No, no,” Mikhail waved her off. “It’s on the company today. A special deal for young moms.”
He smiled and added,
“If you need anything—groceries or a trip to the clinic—here’s my card. Call anytime.”
Natasha opened the door, struggling to hold Masha in one arm. The apartment greeted her with silence and emptiness. No balloons, no surprises—just dust on the furniture and a withered flower on the windowsill.
She gently placed Masha on the couch, surrounded her with pillows, and looked around. Everything was just as she had left it before going to the hospital—an unfinished nursery with a half-assembled crib (Oleg promised to finish it but didn’t manage before leaving), a pile of unwashed baby clothes, an empty fridge.
Natasha sat down beside her daughter and, for the first time in all this time, allowed herself to cry. Not out of grief or resentment, but from the realization that now it was just the two of them against the whole world. And whatever happens, she must be strong for this little girl.
A knock at the door made her start. On the doorstep stood a neighbor, Anna Vasilievna, an elderly woman with kind eyes who remembered Natasha as a little girl.
“Natashenka, you’re back!” she exclaimed. “I saw from the window you came with the baby. I thought I’d stop by to congratulate you.”
In her hands was a pot of something fragrant and a bag of groceries.
“I made some soup and fried cutlets,” she said as she entered the kitchen. “I know how it is—you come home from the hospital, and there’s nothing to eat and no time to cook.”
“Anna Vasilievna, thank you,” Natasha said, touched. “You’ve saved me.”
“Oh, we’re neighbors after all, lived near each other all our lives,” the woman waved it off. “When I had my Kolya, I was alone too—my husband was at sea. I know how it is.”
Natasha lowered her eyes.
“If you need anything at night, just ask,” Anna said as she left. “Don’t hesitate, Natashenka. It’s very hard alone with a newborn.”
That evening, after the baby fell asleep, Natasha sat in the kitchen with a cup of tea, feeling less melancholy. Yes, her husband betrayed her at the most important moment in her life. But the world was not without kind people—a nurse, a taxi driver, a neighbor…
The phone vibrated—a message from her brother: “Natash, I took leave after all. I’ll come Saturday, want to meet my niece. Hang in there, sis.”
Natasha smiled through her tears. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad after all. Maybe she and Masha would manage. And who knows, maybe someday someone would come into their lives who would love them both and never betray them.
For now, they had each other. And that was already enough to start a new life.