04/25/2025
I brought two babies home alone after giving birth â my husband cursed, spat on them, and ran away.â
"Anna Sergeyevna, your discharge papers are ready. Who will be accompanying you home?" The nurse looked attentively at the frail woman whose pale face was framed by dark circles under her eyes.
"I⌠I'll manage on my own," Anna replied, trying to sound confident.
The nurse glanced over her with concern. A week after a difficult childbirth â and there was no one by her side. Her husband hadnât shown up even once. Just one short phone call: âDonât waste your time on me.â
Anna gently took Liza in her arms, cradling the tiny bundle in the bend of her elbow. The nurse helped her with the second baby â Mitya. Two small swaddles, two new little humans, for whom she now bore full responsibility. The bag went over her shoulder, and she clutched the bundle of baby blankets in the crook of her other arm.
"Are you sure you can carry them all?" the nurse still hesitated. "We could call a car."
"No need. The bus stop isnât far."
Not far. Just a kilometer along a snowy February road, with two newborns and stitches that ached with every step. But there was no one to ask for help. And money for a taxi would barely cover milk and bread until the end of the month.
Her steps were small and cautious. The wind pelted her face with sharp snowflakes, the bag tugged at her arm, her back ached. Yet through the thin blankets, she felt the warmth of her babies. It warmed better than any coat.
At the bus stop, she had to wait. Passersby hurried past, shielding themselves from the wind. No one offered help. They just cast curious glances â a young woman, alone, with two infants. When the bus finally came, an elderly passenger helped her aboard and offered a seat.
"Going to your husband?" the woman asked.
"Yes," Anna lied, lowering her eyes.
Deep down, she still hoped Ivan had just panicked. That when he saw his children, heâd realize his mistake. Accept them. Love them. They had talked about this, made plans. Two years ago, when he proposed, it was he who said: "I want a son and a daughter â little copies of you." Fate had smiled on them â sheâd been gifted both at once.
The house met her with hollow silence and stale air. Dirty dishes in the sink, cigarette butts in a jar on the table, empty bottles. She gently laid the babies on the couch, placing a clean towel beneath them. She opened the window to let in fresh air and winced at the pain in her lower abdomen.
"Ivan?" she called softly. "Weâre home."
There was a rustle from the bedroom. Ivan emerged, pulling his robe closed. His gaze swept over the babies, the bags, and Anna â indifferent, cold. As if he were looking at strangers.
"Noisy," he muttered, nodding at the sleeping twins. "I bet they screamed all night?"
"They're good," she stepped forward, searching his face for any sign of warmth. "They barely cry. Mitya only when he's hungry, and Liza is always quiet. Look, theyâre so beautiful..."
Ivan stepped back. In his eyes flashed something like disgust â or fear.
"You know, Iâve been thinkingâŚ" he began, rubbing his neck. "This isnât for me."
"What?" Anna froze, not understanding.
"Babies, diapers, constant screaming. I'm not cut out for it."
Anna stared at him, stunned. How can you not be ready for your own children? Nine months. He had nine long months to prepare.
"But you said you wantedâ"
"I changed my mind," he shrugged like he was talking about returning a phone. "Iâm still young. I want to live my life, not deal with diapers."
He walked past her, opened the closet, and pulled out a gym bag. He began tossing clothes into it â t-shirts, jeans â without much care.
"You⌠you're leaving?" her voice sounded distant, unfamiliar.
"Iâm leaving," he nodded, not even looking at her. "Iâll stay at Seryogaâs for a while, then figure out where to rent."
"And us?" Anna couldnât believe what she was hearing.
Ivan zipped the bag and finally looked at her â annoyed, as if sheâd asked a dumb question during an important meeting.
"You stay here. The house is in your name, I wonât go to your mother. I wonât pay child support â you chose to have them, so you deal with it."
He walked over to the couch where the babies slept. Mitya opened his eyes â dark like his father's. The baby didnât cry, just stared at the man who gave him life and was now rejecting it.
"I donât want them," Ivan muttered, turning away. "Iâm out."
He spat on the floor, right beside the couch. Then he grabbed his bag and coat and left, slamming the door. The windows rattled, and Liza began to cry softly â as if she understood what had just happened.
Anna slowly sank to the floor. It felt like a chasm had opened in her chest, swallowing every emotion except raw, deafening fear.
She was aloneâŚđ Read the continuation in the comments âŹď¸
