Lyuba gave birth very early. She had only just turned eighteen when she became pregnant. When Lyuba’s mother found out about her daughter’s pregnancy, she clutched her heart in horror, while her father frowned and threatened to have a serious talk with her boyfriend.
“Where is that Valera? Give me his number! I want to find out what his plans are…”
But Lyuba did not know either her boyfriend’s current number or where he lived. They had met by chance, dated for several months, and when the girl told him she was pregnant, Valery changed his SIM card and disappeared from her life.
Olga Dmitrievna, Lyuba’s mother, comforted her daughter when she was grieving over her boyfriend, but she herself was terrified. She did not know what to do now.
“Let her give birth!” her father said firmly when his wife asked for advice. “The child is not to blame because his mother is foolish and his father is a coward!”
And that was what they decided. Lyubasha spent her entire pregnancy at home. After school, she had enrolled in college, but because of the pregnancy she had to drop out. The expectant mother lived in her parents’ house, in the very same room where, only a couple of years earlier, she had done her homework and dreamed of a bright future.
Nine months later, Lyubov gave birth to a son. From that moment on, everything changed. If before, the girl had thought that the baby’s birth would make her stronger and push her to do everything to improve their lives, now the future seemed hopeless.
“I’m so tired, Mom!” Lyuba said through tears. “I can’t sit in this cage anymore! Little Dima is always in my arms and constantly crying!”
Lyubasha was shocked by how hard it was to care for a newborn, even though her parents helped her in every possible way. Her mother took on most of the chores of caring for the baby, and her father worked around the clock, but Lyuba was still on the verge of a breakdown.
“What did you expect? He’s a child! Small and helpless. It’s all right, he’ll grow a little, and it will get easier,” her mother reassured her.
When little Dima was six months old, Lyubov decided that she had to earn money herself for formula and diapers for her son.
“Are you serious? And how do you imagine that working?” her parents asked logically.
“Very simply! I’ll go to the capital to work. There are more chances there to find a job without an education and earn decent money.”
“And Dima?” her father asked, frowning. “Who will your son stay with while you’re working?”
“With you. You work in shifts anyway, so let him live here for now. By the time I get settled in the capital, Dima will have grown a little, and he can be put in a nursery. Then I’ll take him, and we’ll start a new life together in the big city.”
Unlike their daughter, Olga Dmitrievna and Sergey Petrovich were practical people. They understood that in the capital, even native residents had trouble getting a child into kindergarten, and for newcomers it was even harder. But her mother and father did not stop their daughter. While that determination to move forward still burned inside her, they did not want to clip her wings.
“I’ll always be in touch. As soon as I find a job, I’ll start sending money for Dima. I don’t want him to grow up in poverty,” Lyuba said at the train station, standing with her parents and son. She held the baby tightly to herself, trying not to cry.
Lyubasha’s words sounded confident. Her parents hoped that their daughter would soon return and take the boy, but deep down, an uneasy feeling never left them.
At first, Lyubov called her father and mother every day. She told them how the job search was going, how hard it was to share a rented apartment with a girl she did not know, and how expensive it was to live in a big city.
Lyuba also often talked to her son. Olga Dmitrievna would turn on a video call, and the young mother could enjoy communicating with little Dima.
When Lyubasha found a job, the calls became less frequent. She said that she worked until late, got tired, and had no strength left for anything.
“But Dima will forget you if you don’t see him,” his grandmother worried.
“I understand, but to take him with me, I need to work a lot!” Lyuba replied.
A year later, her parents decided that Lyuba was finally about to take her son to the capital. She had more or less gotten back on her feet and had even rented a separate apartment.
“When are you coming for Dima? Have you enrolled him in kindergarten?” her mother kept asking.
“I did, but I don’t think we have any chance. Some children wait in line until school. There is an option with a private kindergarten, but I can’t afford the fee,” Lyuba sighed.
The years passed. Sometimes Lyuba came to visit her son and parents, but she did not even hint at taking him with her.
“Mom, who is going to sit with him there while I’m at work? You know yourself he’s always getting sick. If I keep taking sick leave, they’ll fire me right away.”
“So what now? Do you want to abandon your own child?” Sergey Petrovich grumbled unhappily.
“Why abandon him? He’s not living with strangers, he’s living with you. Besides, I send you money regularly,” Lyuba objected.
Lyubov really did support her son financially, but it was her parents who raised him. It was them he saw as his mother and father.
When Dima turned six, Olga Dmitrievna began insisting that Lyuba enroll her son in a school in the capital, but Lyuba flatly refused.
“Mom, I can’t. I enrolled in an evening program at the institute. Now I work during the day, and after that I study. I physically won’t be able to take care of a child. Please look after him a little longer. Once I get my diploma, then I’ll take him.”
“I feel like I’ve heard that somewhere before…” Olga Dmitrievna snorted.
The grandmother and grandfather had already grown attached to the child, practically considering him their own son. Dima even sometimes called them “Mom” and “Dad.” He knew that he had a real mother who worked in a big city. He even boasted to his friends in elementary school that she was successful and rich and would soon take him away, but deep down he did not want to leave. His home was here, beside Grandma and Grandpa.
After graduating from the institute, Lyubov received a promotion at work, along with a raise in salary. Olga Dmitrievna thought that now her daughter would surely remember her son, but she was wrong. Not only did Lyubasha no longer want to take Dima, she also stopped sending money for his upkeep.
“Daughter, there didn’t seem to be any money this month. Did you definitely send it?” Olga Dmitrievna asked cautiously, hoping Lyuba had simply forgotten.
“No, Mom, I haven’t sent it yet. I’m having financial problems right now. I rented an apartment closer to work, and the rent became more expensive. But don’t worry, you and Dad buy Dima everything he needs for now, and later I’ll pay you back.”
Olga Dmitrievna and Sergey Petrovich were not expecting any reimbursement, but from that moment on, they began to realize that the thread connecting Lyubasha and Dima had long since snapped… their daughter almost no longer thought about her child.
They became convinced of this when Dima showed them photos of Lyuba on social media. In the pictures, their daughter was already different: with a new hairstyle, fashionable clothes, and capital-city skyscrapers in the background. She had a completely different life now, one Dima did not fit into. And the boy saw in those photos a woman who felt like a complete stranger, even though she was his blood…
The boy continued living, knowing that his biological mother was somewhere far away, constantly earning money. He did not even suspect that for some time now she had stopped supporting him, and that he was now fully provided for by his grandmother and grandfather.
Time passed. Dmitry finished elementary school.
When his mother forgot to congratulate him on his birthday, he finally began asking serious questions about her.
“Why doesn’t she come or call? Doesn’t she love me?” the boy asked his grandparents.
These questions tore Olga Dmitrievna’s heart apart. One day she could not stand it anymore and called Lyubasha herself.
“Do you not think about your child at all anymore? Why have you disappeared? He keeps asking about you!” she scolded her.
“Mom, do you think I have time for that? I’m working all the time! I don’t even have days off!” the woman justified herself.
“Don’t lie! Your father and I know you’re not only working there. Who is that dark-haired man you’re always taking pictures with? Sergey and I may not be young, but we know how to use the internet.”
“That’s Misha, my boyfriend. We’re dating,” Lyuba replied.
“And when are you going to meet with your son? So you have time for a personal life, but not for your child?”
“Stop it, Mom! I have a right to happiness! You and Dad are already old enough to retire, but I still have my whole life ahead of me. I want to have a family too!” Lyuba suddenly blurted out.
Hearing this, Lyuba’s mother was stunned. Not because her daughter had already written her parents off, but because she believed that Dima was Lyuba’s family. But it turned out Lyuba was looking for a family somewhere completely different.
And so the boy lived without his mother. By the age of sixteen, Dmitry had become a tall and handsome teenager. He helped his grandfather, worked part-time to support the family, and shared his worries with his grandmother. Dima remembered his mother less and less, immersing himself in his life in the provincial town.
And then one day, Lyuba returned. She appeared on the threshold of her parents’ home unexpectedly — alone and without a suitcase, as if she had only dropped by for a minute.
“I came for my son,” her daughter announced almost immediately after entering the apartment.
Olga Dmitrievna, Sergey Petrovich, and Dima froze at such a statement. The teenager barely recognized his mother at all. Over the past several years, he had seen her only in photographs, and now she intended to take him away.
“Why?” he asked, stunned, noticing that his grandmother and grandfather had been struck speechless.
Lyubov smiled nervously and approached her son.
“You’re already grown up, Dimochka. It’s time for you to move to the capital. There are far more opportunities there than here. You’ll finish school, enroll in an institute… And at the same time, you’ll help with your little sister. You know I recently gave birth to a daughter, don’t you? My husband and I work a lot, you understand…”
“What?!” Olga Dmitrievna and Sergey Petrovich exclaimed almost in unison. “You want to take Dimka so he can become a nanny?!”
Lyuba did not deny it. She said it as it was.
“Dima is my son, and Varya is my daughter. A brother is obliged to look after his little sister. I don’t see anything wrong with that! On the contrary, he’ll even benefit from it: he’ll move to the capital, live there without worries, and get every opportunity for a good life!”
Silence fell over the room. Olga Dmitrievna and Sergey Petrovich did not even know how to react to their daughter’s frank confession. But Dima knew.
“And don’t you want to remember your own maternal responsibilities? Where were your care and attention all these years? Why did you stop sending money to Grandma and Grandpa? They felt sorry for you and didn’t file for child support, and now you dare say that I’m obligated to look after some little sister I’ve never even seen?!” Dima’s face turned crimson with emotion.
“You don’t understand, son. This is your chance to make something of yourself and be with your family!” Lyuba continued insisting.
“I have a family,” Dmitry replied, looking at his grandmother, “but you haven’t been part of it for a long time…”
Those words contained everything: a childhood without a mother, school celebrations without her presence, and years of empty promises, not one of which had been kept.
Lyubov grew confused, but still tried to persuade her son.
“You need this more than I do!” she shot back.
“Leave. We don’t need you,” Dima replied, refusing to argue with her. Nor did he leave his grandmother and grandfather, who were already retired. At that moment, the teenager clearly realized that home and family are where you are loved and where people stand by you in difficult times — not where you are called only when you become useful.
