Anna closed her eyes and gently ran her palm over her rounded belly. Under her fingers, as if responding to a silent invitation, the baby answered with a strong, sharp kick, as though hurrying along the sluggish flow of time, eager to begin his great journey as soon as possible.
“Hold on just a little longer, my sweet one,” she whispered softly, feeling the movement of new life beneath her palm. “Soon, very soon we’ll see each other.”
Outside the large ward window, the lilacs were in riotous, fragrant bloom. The May day was truly warm, almost summerlike, and the sun gilded the white and purple clusters pressed against the glass. Anna gazed at this celebration of nature and thought about how strange and unpredictable a human life can be. Only a year ago, she, an ordinary woman from a modest little town in the Urals, could never have imagined that she would find herself here, in this big city by the sea, alone, with a silent phone in her hand from which not a single longed-for call came.
Maksim had promised he would definitely come. He said he was tied up at an important site, that he would soon finish all his urgent work and, without fail, be by her side, holding her hand at the most crucial moment. But days passed, then weeks, then months, and he still didn’t appear. The phone would be silent for days, then briefly come to life again, only for long, empty beeps to sound at the other end of the line. After the fifth futile attempt Anna stopped dialing his number — her inner dignity, her pride simply wouldn’t allow her to humiliate herself and beg.
Scenes from the past rose up in her memory, bright and yet so far away. She remembered how they met. It had happened in Anapa, at the very end of last August. For the first time in her life, Anna had seen the sea — imagine that, at thirty-two years old. All her childhood and youth had passed in a small town in the Urals, where people knew the sea only from magazine photos and the stories of rare lucky travelers. Her parents were simple, hardworking folk, and long trips to southern resorts were an unaffordable luxury for them. Later came her marriage to Artyom, who also had no desire to spend money on travel and vacations. Three years ago their paths finally diverged for good, and Anna, mustering all her strength and savings, decided at last to fulfill her dearest childhood dream.
The sea struck her to the core. Not so much with its endless expanse or dazzling beauty as with a unique, incomparable feeling of complete, absolute freedom. She could wander for hours along the sandy shore, collecting oddly shaped shells, swim at dawn when the huge beach was completely empty and only the sound of the surf broke the morning silence. But most of all she fell in love with the evening, almost night-time swims in a small secluded cove where noisy tourists rarely ventured.
One evening, when the sun had already slipped behind the horizon and the first timid star lit up in the sky, Anna, as usual, went into the water. She was swimming, enjoying the cool caress of the sea after the day’s heat, when she suddenly realized she wasn’t alone. A few meters away a man was standing in the water — tall, broad-shouldered, with dark wet hair plastered to his forehead.
“Excuse me, please,” he said, and a kind, open smile rang in his voice. “I really didn’t mean to scare you. I came a bit earlier and was already in the water when you appeared.”
For a moment Anna was taken aback. Normally in such a situation she would have turned around and left at once, but something in his face, in his sincere, straightforward gaze, made her stay.
“It’s all right,” she replied, feeling her awkwardness gradually recede. “I just thought there was never anyone here at this time.”
“I’m local,” the stranger introduced himself. “Maksim. I’m a firefighter. After a hard shift I sometimes come here to wash away the fatigue and tension. Are you here on holiday?”
“Yes, I still have a whole week ahead. My name is Anna.”
They fell into conversation and stayed on the shore until midnight, wrapped in the warm southern darkness. Maksim talked about his city, about his difficult but important work, about how a few years earlier he had almost married, but his bride suddenly ran off with another man a month before the wedding. Anna, in turn, shared the story of her separation from Artyom — how she had accidentally learned of his infidelity when an unknown woman called and gave her the address of the apartment where he met his lover.
“I went to that address,” Anna said quietly, staring into the darkness where sea and sky merged into one. “And he opened the door himself. In a bathrobe. And behind him she was standing — very tall, incredibly beautiful, with long jet-black hair. She was shouting that Artyom loved her, not me. And I… I didn’t say anything. I just turned around and left. I didn’t even start sorting things out or waste my emotional strength on it.”
“You did absolutely the right thing,” Maksim nodded seriously. “Why waste your precious strength and emotions on people who don’t truly value or respect you?”
After that unforgettable night they saw each other every day, without exception. When her holiday came to an end, Maksim walked her to the station and, as a parting gift, gave her a delicate ring with a clear blue stone — aquamarine.
“So you’ll always remember the sea,” he said, looking straight into her eyes. “And, of course, me.”
Anna promised to wait for him. Maksim said that soon, very soon, he would come, that he would finish his business and they would definitely see each other again. But a month passed, then a second, then a third… The phone calls grew rarer and then stopped altogether. And soon Anna, with amazement and fear, realized that she was expecting a child.
At first, real panic engulfed her. But then, mustering her will, she firmly decided: I’ll manage on my own. After all, she was not the first and not the last woman who would raise a child without a husband. And her mother, a kind and understanding woman, promised to help and support her.
And now, lying in the delivery ward, Anna returned again and again in her thoughts to Maksim. Where was he now? Did he ever recall those wonderful days? Did he have any idea that he would soon become a father?
The door to the ward suddenly burst open, and a nurse with a worried, focused face wheeled in a stretcher with another woman in labor. The woman clutched her belly with both hands and groaned softly between clenched teeth. Anna automatically glanced at her — and felt the blood freeze in her veins.
Long jet-black hair, fine delicate features. It was her. The very same woman who had once stood behind Artyom’s back. Yelizaveta.
Anna jerked her head away toward the wall, feeling her heart hammering like a mallet. It couldn’t be. Out of all the numerous maternity hospitals in this huge city, they had ended up in this very one? More than that — in the same ward?
The contractions grew stronger and stronger; waves of pain washed over everything else — fear, amazement, bitter memories. Anna gripped the sheet with all her might, bit her lips until they bled, and tried to breathe just as they had taught her at the special classes for expectant mothers. Through the dense veil of relentless pain she could dimly hear the voices of doctors, short businesslike instructions, someone’s muffled groans.
“Come on, dear, come on, just a bit more, one more push!” the midwife standing at her feet shouted loudly and encouragingly.
And then at last a thin, piercing, long-awaited cry of a newborn sounded. They showed Anna her son — tiny, pink, with a comically wrinkled little face and tightly shut eyes. She burst into tears, unable to hold back the overflowing feelings of happiness, relief, and boundless, all-consuming love.
A few minutes later another baby’s cry was heard — a little quieter, but just as clear and bright. “So Yelizaveta’s delivery ended well too,” flashed through Anna’s mind.
She was moved to the postnatal ward. Soon they brought her baby boy — she gently put him to her breast and tenderly examined his tiny fingers, plump cheeks, and endearingly upturned nose. Suddenly the same nurse who had attended the birth came into the room.
“Excuse me, Anna,” the nurse said, sounding somehow guilty and embarrassed. “But we need to take your baby away for a little while.”
“Why? What’s happened?” the young mother asked warily, instinctively holding the bundle closer.
“You see, there’s been a little mix-up.” The nurse spread her hands helplessly. “You and the other woman in labor, Yelizaveta, have exactly the same surname. You’re both Sokolova. And both babies are boys. And unfortunately we mixed up the bracelets on their wrists a bit.”
Anna turned cold from head to toe.
“Are you trying to say that this child… is not my son?”
“Unfortunately, yes,” the nurse nodded. “We’ll bring you your little boy right away. Please forgive us, it’s an inexcusable mistake.”
With trembling hands, Anna silently handed the baby over. Had she really just spent several minutes nursing someone else’s child? The son of the very woman who had once mercilessly destroyed her family, her faith in love?
The nurse, already holding the baby, lingered at the door as if thinking something over.
“You do know Yelizaveta Sokolova, don’t you?” she asked quietly, almost in a whisper.
“How do you know that?” Anna asked, a wave of anxiety spreading through her.
“I saw how you looked at her when they brought her into the ward,” the nurse replied even more quietly. “That woman… she’s no longer with us. She passed away about an hour ago. Her heart couldn’t stand the strain. Her husband was driving her to our maternity hospital, and they got into a serious accident. The man died at the scene, and she, in critical condition, was barely brought here in time. She managed to give birth to her son… and almost immediately passed.”
Anna covered her face with her hands, trying to grasp what she’d just heard. My God. Artyom was dead. And Yelizaveta was gone too. And their newborn son had been left utterly alone in this world, completely defenseless.
“And what… what will happen to that boy?” she asked, not really understanding herself why she was asking.
“Unfortunately, the close relatives refused to take him,” the nurse replied. “In a few days, as soon as all the necessary paperwork is done, he’ll be sent to a babies’ home, an orphanage.”
When the nurse left, Anna sat for a long time on the edge of the bed, her head in her hands, rocking gently. How many times had she, in her thoughts, wished Yelizaveta all the worst? How many times had she cursed her, imagined her suffering and torment? And now Yelizaveta was gone, Artyom was gone, and their child was unwanted, doomed to a life without parental warmth and love.
About twenty minutes later they brought another baby into the ward. Silently, with immense tenderness, Anna took him into her arms and put him to her breast again. Her own son sucked greedily, energetically, snuffling with his tiny nose. She stroked his soft little head and cried, silently, feeling some huge, important change taking place inside her.
Then she called the nurse and asked her to bring the first boy back to the ward.
“Why?” the nurse asked, eyes wide with surprise.
“I’ll nurse them both,” Anna said firmly, without a trace of doubt in her voice. “And I want to speak to your head doctor immediately. I’ve made my decision. I’m taking Yelizaveta’s son. He will be mine. I’ll raise him as my own.”
The nurse literally gaped in astonishment.
“Are you absolutely sure about this? Do you understand the responsibility?”
“Absolutely sure. And I understand everything perfectly well.”
After five long days Anna was finally discharged. Her mother was waiting right at the entrance, radiant with joy and excitement. Anna silently placed one baby in her arms, while she herself carefully held the other.
“Good heavens, twins!” the delighted grandmother exclaimed, clapping her hands. “My dear girl, why didn’t you say anything? What happiness!”
Anna only smiled in response. Her mother didn’t know the truth. She was sure both boys were Maksim’s. And Anna had decided not to reveal this bitter secret to her just yet. Why torment the heart of an elderly woman who had already been through so much? The time would come, and she would tell her everything.
They were already walking toward the car when Anna noticed a familiar, achingly dear figure by the maternity hospital fence. A tall, trim man, leaning on a cane, stood there, peering into the faces of the women coming out. Her heart stopped for a moment and then began to pound wildly.
“Maksim?”
He turned slowly. And his face lit up with a broad, joyous, long-awaited smile.
“Annushka! My love! At last!”
She ran to him, forgetting everything else in that instant — the pain, the fears, the long months of longing and unbearable waiting.
“Where have you been all this time? Why didn’t you call, didn’t write? I waited for you so much, I hoped so much!”
“Forgive me, my love, forgive me,” he said, drawing her into a tight, almost painful embrace, as if afraid of losing her again. “All these months I’ve been in the hospital. During that last terrible fire, a burning beam fell on me. I broke both legs and seriously injured my back. The doctors said I would be disabled for life, that I might never walk again. I… I couldn’t allow myself to burden you. I didn’t want you to bind your life to a cripple out of pity or a sense of duty. But I fought. Every day, every minute. I learned to walk again, through hellish pain. And now, you see, I’m back on my feet. Still with a cane, but I’m walking, Annushka, I can walk again!”
“You fool, my dear, naïve fool,” she whispered, tears streaming down her face, mingling with her smile. “Did you really think I needed just some healthy, strong man? I needed you. Only you, just you, no matter what.”
They stood there, tightly embracing each other, while a small crowd of curious passers-by began to gather around, watching this touching scene with tender smiles. Anna’s mother laughed and cried at the same time, unable to contain the emotions overwhelming her.
“We had a son,” Anna managed to say through her tears. “Or rather… two sons.”
Maksim looked at her in undisguised amazement, then at the two babies the women were holding.
“Two?”
“Yes. The second… I took him, adopted him. It’s a very long and complicated story. I’ll tell you everything, I promise, but later.”
“All right,” he said without the slightest hesitation. “Then so be it. We’ll have two sons. I’m infinitely happy about that. Truly happy.”
Very carefully, as if holding the most fragile and precious treasure in the world, he took one of the babies in his arms. In his sleep the boy gave a sweet little yawn, moved his tiny fingers, and sank back into peaceful slumber.
“Shall we go home, my love?” Anna asked, looking into his eyes.
“Let’s go. Only not to a city apartment. I’ve bought a small but very cozy house for us, right by the sea. That’s where we’ll live, all together — we and our children.”
A month later they officially registered their marriage. The wedding was very modest, without a lavish celebration, only the closest and dearest people were there. Anna’s mother baked her famous pies and cried the whole time, but these were tears of pure, cloudless happiness. The boys were growing not by the day, but by the hour, delighting their parents with their smiles. Anna nursed both — she had more than enough breast milk for two strong, healthy babies.
One quiet, calm evening, when the children were already sleeping soundly in their beds, Maksim embraced Anna and quietly asked:
“Annushka, tell me now — why did you decide to take the second boy after all? What made you do it?”
She was silent for a long time, looking into the dark window where the night sea murmured. Then, gathering her thoughts, she told him the whole story from beginning to end — about Artyom, about Yelizaveta, about that fateful meeting in the maternity hospital and the mixed-up bracelets.
“I just couldn’t leave him there, in the orphanage, alone,” she finished her unhurried story. “It would have felt like the worst betrayal of my life. Yes, Artyom treated me cruelly and unfairly. Yes, Yelizaveta destroyed my first marriage. But their son… he’s absolutely innocent. He never asked to be born this way. He didn’t choose his parents. He simply came into this world to be loved.”
Maksim hugged her tighter, pressing her to his strong, reliable shoulder.
“You’re an extraordinary woman, you know that? Not everyone could have done what you did, found such strength and such generosity.”
“I don’t know if I’m extraordinary or not,” Anna answered quietly, leaning into him. “It just felt in that moment like it was the only right decision. They’ll grow up together, they’ll be real brothers, they’ll share all their joys and sorrows. And someday, when they grow up and become adult, wise men, I’ll definitely tell them the whole truth. And then each of them can decide for himself how to feel about it.”
“And what if one of them wants to find his blood relatives?” Maksim asked thoughtfully.
“Well, if he wants to, let him look for them. I won’t stand in his way. But I will raise both of them absolutely equally — as my dearest, most loved and most wanted sons.”
Maksim kissed the top of her head, and in that simple gesture was all his boundless love, support, and understanding.
“Then so be it. They are our sons. Both of them. Forever.”
And now, many years later, two tall, strong men stand on the shore of that very same sea where this great true love once began. They watch two little girls with matching bows run along the wet sand — the daughters of one of the brothers — while their parents, gray-haired now but just as loving and gentle, sit on the terrace of their house, holding hands. And it seems that the sea itself, endless and wise, is quietly whispering to them its eternal song — that a real family is not a coincidence of blood, but a kinship of souls ready to share everything with one another: joys and sorrows, and the boundless, all-conquering happiness of mutual love and forgiveness