— Uncle, please… take my sister. She’s very hungry.
That soft, desperate voice cut through the noise of the street and stopped Igor Levshin in his tracks. He was in a hurry — more than a hurry, he was running like something was chasing him. Time was running out: a single decision at today’s meeting could affect millions of dollars. Ever since Rita — his wife, his everything — had died, work was the only thing that still gave his life purpose.
But that voice…
Igor turned around.
Standing in front of him was a boy, about seven years old. He looked thin and messy, with tears in his eyes. In his arms was a small bundle — the face of a baby girl peeked out from an old, worn blanket. She let out a soft, weak cry, and the boy held her tightly, like he was the only one who could protect her in a world that didn’t care.
Igor paused. He knew he didn’t have time to stop — he had to keep moving. But something in the boy’s eyes, or maybe just the way he said “please,” reached a quiet place deep inside him.
— Where is your mother? — he asked softly, crouching down beside the boy.
— She said she’d come back… but it’s been two days and she hasn’t. I’m waiting here in case she does, — the boy said, his voice shaking, along with his hand.
His name was Maxim. The baby girl was Taisia. They were all alone. No note, no reason — just hope. And Maxim was holding onto that hope like it was the only thing keeping him going.
Igor offered to get them some food, call the police, or contact social services. But when he mentioned the police, Maxim tensed up and whispered, clearly scared:
— Please don’t let them take us. They’ll take Taisia away…
And in that moment, Igor understood: he couldn’t just leave them behind.
At a café nearby, Maxim ate hungrily while Igor gently fed baby Taisia with formula he’d picked up from the pharmacy. Something deep inside him began to stir — something that had been buried for a long time under the weight of loss and routine.
He picked up his phone and called his assistant:
— Cancel all my meetings. Today and tomorrow too.
A little later, two police officers showed up — Gerasimov and Naumova. They asked the usual questions, followed the normal procedures. Maxim held tightly onto Igor’s hand and asked,
— You won’t let them take us to an orphanage, right?
Igor surprised even himself when he answered,
— I won’t. I promise.
At the police station, the paperwork started. Larisa Petrovna, an old friend of Igor’s and a skilled social worker, stepped in to help. Thanks to her, everything was sorted quickly — Igor was given temporary custody of the children.
— Just until they find their mother, — Igor said, mostly to himself. — It’s only temporary.
He brought the kids home. The car ride was quiet. Maxim didn’t ask anything; he just held his sister close and whispered softly to her, trying to calm her.
Igor’s apartment was big and bright, with soft rugs and tall windows that showed the whole city. To Maxim, it felt like a dream — something he had never experienced before. So warm. So safe.
Igor, however, felt completely out of his depth. He didn’t know how to mix baby formula, change diapers, or keep track of a baby’s schedule. He made mistakes, stumbled over things, forgot when to feed or put the baby to sleep.
But Maxim was always there. Quiet and watchful, as if he was afraid Igor might leave at any moment. But he helped — rocking Taisia, singing to her, tucking her in with the care of someone who had done it a hundred times before.
One night, Taisia couldn’t sleep. She cried and tossed in her crib. Then Maxim walked over, gently picked her up, and softly sang to her. In just a few minutes, she was fast asleep.
— You’re really good at calming her down, — Igor said, feeling a warmth growing in his chest as he watched.
— I had to learn, — the boy answered simply. There was no anger in his voice, no sadness — just the truth.
And then, the phone rang. It was Larisa Petrovna.
— We found their mother. She’s alive, but she’s in rehab right now — she has a serious drug problem. If she finishes treatment and proves she can take care of the kids, they’ll go back to her. If not, the state will take over. Or… you can.
Igor didn’t say anything. His chest tightened.
— You can officially become their guardian. Or even adopt them, if that’s truly what you want.
He didn’t know if he was ready to be a father. But one thing he did know: he didn’t want to lose these kids.
That evening, Maxim sat in the corner of the living room, quietly drawing with a pencil.
— What’s going to happen to us now? — he asked without looking up. But in his voice, you could hear everything — fear, pain, hope, and the worry of being left behind again.
— I don’t know, — Igor replied honestly, sitting down beside him. — But I’ll do everything I can to protect you.
Maxim was quiet for a moment.
— Will they take us away again? Take us away from this home… from you?
Igor pulled him into a tight hug. He didn’t say anything at first — just held him, trying to say through the hug: You’re not alone anymore. Not ever again.
— I won’t let you go. I promise. Never.
At that moment, he realized something important: these children weren’t strangers anymore. They had become a part of his life — a part of him.
The next morning, Igor called Larisa Petrovna.
— I want to become their full guardian, — he said.
It wasn’t easy. There were inspections, interviews, home visits, and lots of questions. But Igor didn’t give up — because now, he had a reason. Two reasons: Maxim and Taisia.
When temporary custody turned into something permanent, Igor made a big decision — he moved. He bought a house outside the city, with a garden, a big porch, birds singing in the mornings, and the fresh smell of rain on the grass.
Maxim changed right before his eyes. He smiled more, built forts out of pillows, read books out loud, and hung his drawings on the fridge with pride. He was finally living — really living — without fear.
One night, as Igor tucked him in and smoothed his hair, Maxim looked up and softly said,
— Good night, Dad.
Igor felt a wave of warmth, and his eyes filled with tears.
— Good night, son, — he replied.
In the spring, the adoption became official. A judge’s signature made it legal, but Igor had already made that choice in his heart long ago.
Taisia’s first word — “Dad!” — meant more to him than any success he’d ever had in business.
Maxim made friends, joined a soccer team, and sometimes filled the house with laughter and noisy kids. Igor learned how to braid hair, cook breakfast, listen, laugh — and truly feel alive again.
He had never planned on being a father. He never looked for it.
But now, he couldn’t imagine his life without them.
It was hard. It was unexpected.
But it was the best thing that had ever happened to him.