Three-year-old Alice joyfully ran to meet her grandmother Catherine, who had come to pick her up from kindergarten.
— Grandma, my dear! Where’s Mommy? Everyone else has been picked up!
— Mommy’s gone away, little Alice, but she’ll be back soon.
— Okay!
Catherine wiped away a tear. What could she tell her granddaughter? That her daughter, Theresa, Alice’s mother, had run off with a lover, forgetting all about her child? Catherine Elizabeth only threw up her hands in despair when she heard the indignant voice of the kindergarten teacher on the phone, scolding her for forgetting the child. Since that day, there had been neither word nor trace of Theresa.
It was only six months later that Catherine received a letter in which Theresa described how well she had settled in the capital and promised that when things got even better, she would take Alice to live with her. She didn’t apologize, didn’t explain, didn’t ask how they were doing—nothing. There was no return address either.
So, Alice grew up with her grandparents. The elderly couple raised their granddaughter on their modest pension, doing their best to care for her. Alice, cheerful and sociable, always tried to help her grandma and had long stopped asking when her mother would return. She had simply forgotten her.
Theresa reappeared when Alice turned ten. She arrived dressed elegantly, clearly satisfied with her life. Catherine gasped when she saw her at the doorstep and went to call her husband, but he refused to see his wayward daughter and demanded that she be told to leave his house.
— Oh, Mom, Dad’s being his usual self, — Theresa said indifferently.
— Where’s Alice?
— At school. She’ll be home soon.
— Well, at least pour me some tea. I just got off the train, and I’m exhausted. Everything’s going great for me, — she began, as if not noticing her mother’s silence. — I’m married now. I live with my husband and his daughter; she’s the same age as Alice. Don’t think I didn’t want to take her with me, but my husband’s against it. What can I do? I live comfortably, everything provided for me. How could I bring a freeloader into his home?
— So, your daughter is a freeloader? But his isn’t?
— Of course not. Mom, you just don’t understand that lifestyle. Sarah, my husband’s daughter, doesn’t have a free moment. Clubs, school, tutors. She already speaks two languages, can you imagine?
— You should be just as proud of your own daughter.
— Proud of what? She’s ordinary. No special talents. Probably takes after her deadbeat father. She can’t even compare to Sarah.
— You’re shameless, Theresa, — Catherine began, but hearing a rustle at the door, she turned around.
Alice stood in the doorway. She stared wide-eyed at the well-groomed, stylish woman, unable to believe this was her mother. She had also overheard her mother’s last words and understood their meaning perfectly.
— Sweetheart, how you’ve grown! — Theresa looked at Alice and stood to hug her, but the girl spun around and ran off, spending the rest of the day by the river, tossing pebbles into the water.
Her grandma found her there. She quietly approached, sat beside her, and hugged the girl, letting out a heavy sigh. They sat in silence for a long time before Catherine spoke:
— Let’s go home, my dear. We need to make dinner.
— I’m not going while she’s there.
— She’s gone… — the old woman sighed again. — She said not to wait for her anymore.
— Then let’s go. Grandma, I’m so hungry.
Year after year passed. Alice was in a hurry to grow up, wanting to help and bring joy to her grandparents. But she didn’t get the chance. Her grandfather passed away first.
Catherine and Alice stood mournfully by his grave, weeping and holding each other tightly. Their return to the now-empty house was filled with sorrow. Two years later, Catherine passed away as well.
Seventeen-year-old Alice sobbed, her face buried in her pillow, but Catherine could no longer come to comfort her granddaughter. Never again would Alice hear her gentle voice or feel the soft touch of her warm hands.
Neighbors helped the grieving girl with the funeral, but Theresa never showed up to say goodbye to either her father or her mother.
A year later, Alice locked up the small house she had inherited, asked the neighbors to keep an eye on it, and moved to the city to study at a technical college.
Alice studied diligently, mastering the culinary arts and hoping that one day she could make something of herself. She needed this desperately. Alice was the poorest among her fellow students. She wore old, worn-out clothes her grandmother had bought her long ago and often went hungry because she simply couldn’t afford food. One day, while crossing the street, she fainted and collapsed under the wheels of a car.
A girl jumped out of the car, frantically checked on Alice, helped her up, and sat her in the vehicle.
— You scared me so much! I thought I’d hit you. Are you sick?
— No, I’m fine. — The darkness before Alice’s eyes cleared, and she saw the kind face of a girl her age.
— My name’s Sarah. We’re going to my place to get you cleaned up. I don’t like how you look.
— No, really, I’m okay now.
— Don’t argue. I’m going to be a doctor, after all.
Ten minutes later, Sarah and Alice pulled up to a large house. A smiling woman came out to meet them, and Alice felt a pang of recognition.
— Sarah, where have you been so long? Lunch has been ready for ages. Your dad’s waiting, come on!
The woman paid no attention to Alice. Her appearance was too pitiful.
— Coming, Mom, — Sarah replied, leading her guest inside behind the woman.
They entered a beautifully decorated room where a graying man sat at a set table. Seeing the unfamiliar girl, he stood and politely invited her to join them.
Sarah explained how she had met Alice, and John Nicholas shook his head, correctly guessing that the girl was malnourished. Her extreme thinness and the shadows under her eyes spoke volumes.
At that moment, Sarah’s mother came in and began serving food. Alice ate with her eyes down, but no matter how hard she tried to eat slowly, she couldn’t help herself and finished her plate much faster than the others.
— Theresa, offer our guest some more. Alice froze as if struck by lightning. Theresa! That’s it! This was her mother! Only now did she recognize her, and as she took the plate, she said quietly:
— Thank you, Mom.
Theresa dropped the water pitcher, and it shattered on the floor.
She paled, then looked at the girl sitting before her and whispered with trembling lips:
— Alice? You’re Alice?!
John stood up from his seat:
— Theresa?! What’s going on? How can this girl be your daughter? You said she died long ago, when she was a child…
— No, John, as you can see, I’m alive. And it’s all thanks to my grandparents—they raised me. I won’t tell you how we lived.
— No need, dear, — John said. — I can see it all too well. Come, Theresa, we need to talk. You girls, stay here and chat.
— How could you lie to me all these years, Theresa? What kind of mother abandons her own child? What kind of woman are you?! You’re despicable! Look at your daughter! You brought her to this state!
Theresa cried silently, but her tears were not for the abandoned girl but for herself, knowing her kind and noble husband would never forgive her for what she had done.
Theresa had been so eager to build her personal life, so desperate to enjoy it, that she forgot about the little girl she left behind in the village. She had run off to the city with her lover, but after meeting John by chance, she realized she could only be happy with him.
At the time, he was a widower, struggling with a young daughter and grieving for his beloved wife. Theresa came to him as a nanny, quickly earning the trust and love of little Sarah, and through her, growing close to John himself.
That’s when she told him she, too, had suffered a tragedy, losing her young daughter.
— You see, Johnny, she died in my arms. She had a weak heart. You can’t imagine how I grieved, how I wept at her grave. Only when I met Sarah did I realize I could give her my love and care, as if she were my own.
John believed her, pitied her, welcomed her into his home, and let her into his heart. So, Theresa lived comfortably all these years. Sarah caused her no trouble, always busy with various activities and only coming home in the evening with her father, a medical professor.
When Sarah grew older, she enrolled in preparatory courses for medical school. John was constantly busy, leaving Theresa to her own devices.
She didn’t love Sarah, of course, but tolerated her, smiling and doting on the girl because she was the key to Theresa’s personal comfort. John was older than Theresa, and she eagerly awaited the day Sarah would marry and leave, and her husband, with his frail health, wouldn’t last much longer. Then Theresa would be free.
Meeting her real daughter was not part of her plans, and yet it happened! Theresa couldn’t hide her tears of disappointment, but John snapped at her again, demanding she go out and talk to Alice, offering her a place to stay with them.
When they returned to the living room, they saw a somber Sarah sitting at the table, tracing patterns with her spoon in her plate.
— Where’s Alice? — John asked.
— She left, Dad. She thanked us for everything and left. She said she didn’t want to interfere with her mother’s happiness and had no intention of asking anything of her. She said she’d lived without her for so long and would keep doing so.
Theresa swallowed the lump in her throat and looked guiltily at her husband. John turned away from her and stormed into his study, slamming the door behind him.
Alice returned to her dorm and began packing her things to return to her village and never come back to the city.
Seven years passed. Alice worked in the school cafeteria, having completed her technical college studies by correspondence. She was married to a local agronomist and raising a little daughter, whom she named Catherine in honor of her grandmother.
They didn’t live richly, but they were happy enough. Her husband, Peter, was kind and caring, loving both his wife and daughter, always trying to please them, and they returned his affection.
One evening, there was a knock at Alice’s door. Peter opened it and saw a woman who looked like a beggar. She looked at him and asked if her daughter Alice lived there.
Peter knew everything about his wife’s past and silently stepped aside, letting her mother into the house. Suddenly, Theresa froze: running toward her was her little girl, but not grown-up—a small child, just as she had left her years ago. The girl looked at the strange woman with her big eyes, smiled, and climbed into her father’s arms. Peter said to little Catherine:
— Come on, sweetie, let’s go take care of some chores, — and he left with her.
Theresa watched them go and then heard Alice’s voice:
— Hello, Mom. Isn’t it a bit late to remember me?
— Forgive me, daughter, — Theresa said sincerely for the first time in her life. — I came to ask for your forgiveness for everything. As you can see, life has punished me already. Sarah got married and moved to Hungary, taking her father with her. They sold the house, and I got nothing. I’ve been drifting from place to place for years, and I couldn’t take it anymore. What if we lived together? I could help raise your daughter.
— No, I don’t want that. I’ll set the table, feed you, just as you once fed me, and then I’ll call you a taxi. You’re still young, Mom, and you can build a life for yourself.
— I don’t have money for a taxi. And I have nowhere to live.
— Don’t worry, I’ll give you the money. But I’m sorry, I don’t want to see you here again. It’ll be easier for you to find work in the city.
— Are you crazy? I don’t know how to do anything.
— I’m sorry, Mom, but I won’t change my mind. And, sadly, I haven’t considered you my mother for a long time.
Half an hour later, Theresa left. Six months later, Alice took her daughter to the children’s clinic for a routine vaccination. There, she saw Theresa—the woman was mopping the floor in the hallway.
Alice’s heart ached, and she stepped toward her mother, ready to reconcile and say she forgave her. But Theresa glared at her daughter with such anger that Alice froze in place.
Her mother grabbed the bucket and mop and walked away, never looking back at the one she should have loved her entire life.
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