Uncle, please… take my sister. She’s really hungry…
That quiet, desperate plea, cutting through the noise of the street, caught Igor Levshin completely off guard.
He was in a rush — no, he was practically sprinting, as if chased by an invisible enemy.
Time was tight: millions of dollars hinged on one decision that had to be made at today’s meeting.
Since Rita passed away — his wife, his light, his rock — work had become the only meaning left in his life.
But that voice…
Igor turned around.
In front of him stood a child, about seven years old. Thin, disheveled, with tear-streaked eyes.
In his arms he held a tiny bundle, from which peeked the face of a baby girl.
The girl, wrapped in an old, worn-out blanket, whimpered softly, and the boy clutched her close as if he were her only protection in this indifferent world.
Igor hesitated. He knew he shouldn’t waste time, he had to go.
But something in the child’s eyes, or in the sound of that simple “please,” touched a deeply buried part of his soul.
Where’s your mom? he asked gently, kneeling down next to the boy.
She promised she’d come back… but it’s been two days. I’m waiting here, in case she does, the boy’s voice trembled, and his hand trembled with it.
His name was Maksim. The baby was called Taisia. They were completely alone.
No note, no explanation — only hope, which the seven-year-old clung to like a drowning person grabs at a straw.
Igor offered to buy food, call the police, contact social services.
But at the mention of the police, Maksim flinched and whispered painfully:
Please, don’t let them take us. They’ll take Taisia away…
And in that moment, Igor understood: he couldn’t just walk away.
In the nearest café, Maksim devoured his food hungrily, while Igor carefully fed Taisia a formula he’d bought at the pharmacy next door.
Something in him was awakening — something long buried under a cold shell.
He called his assistant:
Cancel all my meetings. Today and tomorrow, too.
Soon the police arrived — Gerasimov and Naumova.
Standard questions, routine procedures. Maksim clutched Igor’s hand tightly:
You won’t send us to an orphanage, right?
Even Igor didn’t expect the words that came from his own mouth:
I won’t. I promise.
At the station, the paperwork began. Larisa Petrovna — an old friend and experienced social worker — got involved.
Thanks to her, everything was processed quickly — temporary guardianship.
Just until they find their mom, Igor kept repeating, mostly to himself. Just temporary.
He took the children home. The car was as quiet as a tomb.
Maksim held his sister tightly, asking no questions, only whispering gentle, soothing words to her.
Igor’s apartment welcomed them with spaciousness, soft carpets, and panoramic windows overlooking the whole city.
For Maksim, it was like a fairytale — his life had never known such warmth or comfort.
Igor himself felt lost. He knew nothing about formula, diapers, or daily routines.
He tripped over blankets, forgot feeding times, bedtime schedules.
But Maksim was always there. Quiet, watchful, tense. He watched Igor like someone expecting him to vanish at any moment.
But he helped — gently rocking his sister, humming lullabies, tucking her in with the skill of someone who’d done it many times before.
One evening, Taisia wouldn’t fall asleep. She whimpered, tossing and turning in her crib.
Then Maksim walked over, gently picked her up, and began to sing softly.
Within minutes, the baby was sleeping peacefully.
You’re really good at calming her down, Igor said, watching with warmth in his chest.
Had to learn, the boy replied simply. Not with bitterness, not complaining — just as a fact of life.
And at that moment, the phone rang. It was Larisa Petrovna.
We found their mother. She’s alive, but currently in rehab — drug addiction, serious condition.
If she completes treatment and proves she can care for the children, they’ll return them to her.
If not — the state will take custody. Or… you.
Igor fell silent. Something inside him tightened.
You can officially become their guardian. Or even adopt them.
If that’s truly what you want.
He wasn’t sure he was ready to be a father. But one thing he knew for certain: he didn’t want to lose these children.
That evening, Maksim sat in the corner of the living room, quietly drawing with a pencil.
What will happen to us now? he asked, not looking up from the paper.
But in his voice there was everything — fear, pain, hope, and the terror of being abandoned again.
I don’t know, Igor answered honestly, sitting beside him.
But I’ll do everything I can to make sure you’re safe.
Maksim was silent for a moment.
Will they take us away again? Take the house, take us from you?
Igor hugged him. Tightly. Wordlessly. He wanted the embrace to say it all: you’re not alone anymore.
Never again.
I won’t let them take you. I promise. Never.
And at that moment, he realized: these children were no longer strangers to him.
They had become part of him.
The next morning, Igor called Larisa Petrovna:
He laughed, built pillow forts, read books aloud, brought drawings he proudly hung on the fridge.
He was living — truly, freely, without fear.
One evening, as Igor tucked him into bed, he gently stroked his hair.
Maksim looked up at him and softly said:
Good night, Dad.
Something warmed deep inside Igor, and his eyes welled up.
Good night, son.
In spring, the official adoption was finalized.
The judge’s signature made it legal, but Igor’s heart had known the truth long before.
Taisia’s first word — “Papa!” — meant more than any business success ever could.
Maksim made friends, joined a soccer club, sometimes came home with a noisy group of kids.
And Igor learned how to braid hair, make breakfast, listen, laugh… and feel alive again.
He had never planned on being a father.
He hadn’t sought it.
But now he couldn’t imagine life without them.
It was hard. It was unexpected.
But it became the most beautiful thing that had ever happened to him.
