After reading this story, don't be quick to dismiss it as a mere fairy tale. Life is unpredictable, and the most incredible things can happen...
For a long time, she didn't even know her real name. All she ever heard was:
"Brat! Bring me that! Brat, give it back! Brat, clean this up!"
That was how her parents addressed her. That was what her brother and sister called her. Her siblings were her primary tormentors. She was six years younger than her brother and four years younger than her sister. As she grew older, she realized why her mother didn't just call her "Brat," but also "the Mistake." She was unwanted. An accident. Unloved.
In truth, no one in that family loved one another. Perhaps at the very beginning, the parents had felt something resembling love; why else would they have married? Maybe they loved their firstborn as best they could. They resigned themselves to the arrival of a daughter. But three children in the family was a heavy burden—the parents' wages were laughably small. And how could they have been large? They had barely scraped through high school. They took the first jobs they found, working as laborers at a local construction firm. Yet, they did receive one blessing. They already had two children when they managed to snag a spot in the last wave of public housing—their turn for an apartment finally came. It was a small unit in a nondescript brick walk-up. At least they had a roof over their heads.
They lived in cramped resentment. The adults were bitter because they were constantly struggling to make ends meet. They took out years of accumulated frustration on each other. Eventually, they turned that anger toward the "parasites," as the father called the children. Among the parasites, a permanent target emerged: the youngest. The older children took up the torch from their parents. Every day, the little girl looked for a place to hide, as she was struck daily, often several times. By the time she was four, she was already sweeping floors, washing dishes, and bringing her brother and sister their shoes. In short, for as long as she could remember, she had been the household's unpaid servant. Before she even knew what envy was, she looked at the neighbors across the hall with a longing heart.
They also had three children. The youngest son was her age, and the two older sisters were the same ages as her own brother and sister. But laughter always echoed from their apartment. The sisters taught their little brother how to ride a bike. In the winter, they were constantly adjusting his hat and scarf, and they crossed the street holding his hands tightly. When the parents came home, the children would throw themselves into their arms. They were kissed and hugged. Everyone smiled.
At first, she thought that if she weren't the youngest sister, but the youngest brother like the boy next door, everything would be the same for her. Then she decided it was the apartment. If only they could swap homes! Then she would have those kind parents, that caring brother, and that attentive sister...
Eventually, she realized that wasn't the problem. The problem was that she was an unloved child whom no one wanted. When she finally accepted this, she stopped responding to "Brat." She insisted, over and over, that her name was Olivia. It became vital for her to be Olivia. Because when she grew up, Olivia would leave this house immediately; she would leave her parents, her brother, and her sister. She could already imagine how happy they would all be to see her go.
***
With a high school diploma in hand and a few dollars in her pocket, Olivia headed to a neighboring city to attend a teachers' college. She wanted to specialize in early childhood education. Most importantly, the college offered a dormitory. The goal was to get in—nothing else mattered. Olivia didn't just want to work with children; she dreamed of growing up, marrying someone she loved, and having a family of her own. Many children. Boys and girls alike. She had enough love and care for all of them. She would tell them bedtime stories, read them books, play house, and build castles out of blocks. And her home would be filled with the sound of children's laughter.
During her student teaching, she became a natural at the preschool. Children followed her like little shadows, and she developed great relationships with the staff. Experienced teachers often sat in on Olivia's lessons, admitting that her teaching style was far more engaging than most. So, no one was surprised when she was offered a full-time position at the preschool upon graduation. She rented a room from an elderly woman and, for the first time in her life, became the mistress of her own small space. A preschool teacher's salary was modest, but Olivia often worked extra shifts as a substitute. This provided extra income and allowed her to get to know many children across different age groups. She knew all their names by heart. When they saw her on the street, they would run to her, shouting:
"Miss Olivia! Hi, Miss Olivia!"
She met her boyfriend when he heard the children calling out to her. He walked up to her and asked:
"Will you say hello to me too, Miss Olivia?"
Olivia blushed. She was simultaneously thrilled; no one had ever just walked up and introduced themselves to her before.
Innocent and trusting, already imagining that this handsome young man would make her a happy wife, Olivia began dating him. Everything was wonderful—until she realized she was pregnant. She went to the clinic, and they confirmed it. They ordered a battery of tests for her to take the next day. But for now...
For now, she hurried to the person she thought would be just as happy as she was. But it wasn't like that at all. There was a crude, disgusting scene. He screamed in her face, saying this wasn't part of the deal. Then, he simply turned and walked away. He walked out of her life forever. For a while, Olivia managed to hide her condition. Then, rumors began to circulate at the preschool. Olivia never mentioned a wedding, and the young man never picked her up anymore. It became clear that she was alone—branded as a "jilted woman" and soon to be a single mother.
Just before her due date, Olivia went back to her parents' house. They met her exactly as she expected: with a scandal the moment they learned there was no husband. It was a brutal confrontation—Olivia alone against the four people who were supposed to be her family. They didn't mince words, screaming that since it was too late for a standard procedure, she should find someone to perform an illegal one. They said they would chip in to pay for it just to get rid of the problem. Olivia leaned against the wall, listening to their shouting and abuse, feeling only one source of protection—her unborn child. She carried him under her heart. She was protecting him, and now, he was protecting her. These screaming relatives had no idea that Olivia wasn't alone. She had a defender. Olivia looked from one face to another and stopped on her mother. Her mother signaled for the others to be quiet and said into the silence:
"If you keep that baby, get out! And don't you ever come back."
So Olivia left. Thankfully, her landlady allowed her to stay until the birth. She still had a little bit of money left.
The labor was difficult, but she delivered the baby herself. With the infant in her arms, she found a tiny, inexpensive room. she devoted all her time to her son. She was overjoyed when the pediatricians praised her: the boy was developing well, gaining weight, and meeting all his milestones.
When she returned to work, a colleague told her that a private preschool had opened in the city. The colleague had already passed the interview and was moving there the following month. The conditions were much better than at the public school. The groups were smaller, the meals were better, and there were regular swimming lessons with a private shuttle for the kids. Most attractive of all, the salary was significantly higher. The colleague encouraged Olivia to apply. Olivia got the job, and her son was enrolled in the nursery group there. The salary was indeed fifty percent higher, and with overtime, she was making nearly double what she used to. Olivia couldn't be happier; the equipment was modern, the supplies were unlimited, and the furniture was top-of-the-line. Working in such comfort for a decent wage allowed her to completely refresh her son's wardrobe and buy a few new things for herself. She even splurged on a trendy haircut at a salon. In a new dress with a haircut that highlighted her pretty face, Olivia began to notice men paying attention to her. But she was certain her time for romance had passed.
Still, she had her son—the most important person in her life. But Olivia couldn't help but enjoy the attention of one pleasant young man. He had met her while she was walking with her son in the park and started coming there every day. He befriended her son, bringing a kite one day and asking Olivia's permission to fly it with the boy. Her son was delighted.
Despite her hesitation, the eternal human hope for happiness won out: she moved in with him. They decided they would make it official later, but for now, they lived in a rented house. Olivia believed that this was it—a real family. Soon, it seemed like it was time to go to the courthouse because Olivia became pregnant again. But he talked her into waiting a bit longer to save up more money. Olivia didn't suspect a thing. And perhaps there was no trickery; perhaps he really did believe Olivia was his destiny.
But as soon as the baby was born, he abandoned them. This happened right when Olivia was drowning in tears: she had given birth to a boy with Down syndrome. Every day, people urged her to give up the newborn. They gave her countless examples of the struggles ahead, painting a grim picture of her life as a mother and his life with the condition. Olivia seemed to listen, but only on the surface. She saw the boy's wrinkled little face—they had shown him to her right after birth and then quickly whisked him away. Two hours later, they told her he had special needs and that it was a hopeless situation. But Olivia believed that if they would just give her the baby, if she could press him to her chest and kiss his tiny hand, maybe his face would stop wrinkling. Maybe he would feel that his mother was there and that she wouldn't let anyone hurt him. She wouldn't abandon him. Olivia's only thought was that she would not give up her child. Her partner's suggestion to leave the baby only made her angry. She knew for certain she was taking her son home. When she read his note saying he hadn't signed up to raise a "broken" child, she didn't feel much pain; she had chosen her son. From then on, he was hers alone. And he had an older brother who would also love and protect him.
***
Olivia's life entered a second cycle of poverty and constant fear for the health of her little one. He needed special care: daily procedures and specific exercises. And she still had her older son, who was also just a toddler. Olivia felt like she was pacing in a cage, trying to find enough money for food, medicine, and physical therapy. She had to move again, renting a smaller room in a shared house. The neighbors there looked askance at her son; they wouldn't let their children go near him. The other kids would take his toys away, and the older brother would always rush to his defense. Then the older kids would gang up on him. He often came home with bruises and scrapes. That room would have been flooded with Olivia's tears if she didn't bite her pillow at night to stifle her crying.
The things Olivia had to hear! People judged her, saying she wasn't very bright for having children out of wedlock, especially a "cripple." More than once, people told her to her face to stop playing Mother Teresa and just put the boy in an institution. Olivia never replied—she just looked into the eyes of those speaking. They were offering their own version of the truth, but eyes like those didn't know how to love children. Not their own, not others', not the healthy, and not the sick. People wondered where Olivia found her strength.
Only she knew. Her strength came from her childhood—her joyless, resentful childhood from which she had fought to escape. She wanted to raise her own children in love. And this time, Olivia managed. She received state assistance for her older son and a disability pension for the younger one. She was also paid a small caregiver's allowance. Olivia couldn't work outside the home because there was no one to leave the younger boy with. So, she rented a one-bedroom apartment and posted flyers saying she could work as a full-time nanny in her own home. This brought in extra money. Out of habit, Olivia budgeted every cent for the bare essentials. In the midst of this whirlwind, a bit of light finally reached Olivia's street: her son, who had been predicted to be completely non-verbal and unresponsive, knew his letters, could count to ten and back, and interacted with the children Olivia nannied. Doctors told her she was doing the impossible: the boy was achieving things many healthy children his age had mastered.
***
It seemed Olivia was a magnet for trouble. How else could you explain what happened one early evening? As she was returning from the store, she was surrounded by a group of drunk young men behind some garages. One knocked her down, another covered her mouth, and a third assaulted her. It happened so fast—ten minutes was all it took. Then they vanished. It took Olivia half an hour to clear her head and struggle to her feet. Then she brushed herself off and went back to the store for bread. For bread, because her sons had to be fed at home.
In 그 moment, Olivia felt as if she had split in two. She wasn't just one Olivia; there were two of them. One had heavy weights on her feet, her whole body ached and throbbed, and she wanted to scream but had lost her voice. The other Olivia remembered only that her sons were waiting at home. That she had left the younger one with the older one. That she absolutely had to get back. And Olivia went back. She told the boys she was going to hop in the shower for a minute. She stood like a statue under the freezing water, thinking only of not screaming, of not frightening the children. The next day, she was forced to nanny her own and other people's children. Forced, because without the money, her children would go hungry. Now Olivia tried to leave the house as little as possible. But when she finally had to go out, she ran into the director of the private preschool where she had worked before her maternity leave.
He stopped, said hello, and asked how she was. She didn't have time to answer because a young man walked up to the director and said:
"Dad, the ATM ate my card. Give me some cash!"
Olivia, to keep from falling, instinctively grabbed the director's arm and suddenly screamed:
"Is this your son? He's the one who did this to me! I recognize him! I'm going to the police right now!"
The director turned pale, jerked Olivia aside, and hissed:
"Don't you dare! Or you'll never see your children again!"
Olivia knew he meant it. He was a wealthy man with connections. There were rumors he was involved with local organized crime. He had opened the preschool just to mask his past. Olivia also realized the director believed her; he knew she was telling the truth. She guessed he had probably bailed his son out of similar situations many times before. Olivia wrenched her arm away and, for the first time in her life, said:
"To hell with both of you!"
She walked home without looking back.
***
One might ask—though it's unclear who would answer—isn't that too much grief for one person to bear?
Olivia certainly asked that question many times. She likely felt utter despair after each blow. But her children always came first. For their sake, Olivia overcame what seemed insurmountable.
Summer arrived. The children Olivia nannied at home went away to summer camps and vacations. Once again, she was short on rent money. Then, unexpectedly, the mother of one of the toddlers Olivia watched came to see her. She said their summer plans had changed; she and her husband weren't going anywhere, but they had a lot of urgent work in the city. She invited Olivia to move into their country house for the season. Naturally, she was to bring her two sons. They would have their own room and meals. A housekeeper they knew well was taking care of the food. And Olivia would receive a salary.
"Olivia," the mother said, "I'm really counting on you! My son, Leo, is so attached to you and your boys. We haven't brought him to you for only three days, and he hasn't stopped asking when he can go see 'Auntie Olivia'!"
Olivia happily agreed.
Now she and her children lived in wonderful conditions: a large house, a magnificent yard with a great playground, a pool, and flowers everywhere.
Daria, the homeowner, and her husband left for work early every morning. They were building a volunteer center where they planned to open two rehabilitation classrooms for children with mobility, speech, and hearing issues. They were in a rush because they wanted to open the center by September 1st. There was so much work: paperwork, renovations, equipping the center, and hiring staff. Sometimes Daria didn't see her son Leo for days. She left while he was still asleep and returned after he was in bed.
Daria would go into his room late at night, sit on the edge of his bed, and look at her son. She would kiss him quietly. Then she would stop by Olivia's room and tell her how grateful she was, saying she had no doubt Leo was happy with such a nanny. Olivia was equally grateful to have met someone like Daria. She told Daria more than once that not only were the children happy there, but she was too. She even joked that she needed to go on a diet because she could feel herself gaining weight.
***
In early August, as Olivia was coming out of the pool with the children, she suddenly stopped. She realized—or rather, felt—that she was pregnant. After putting the children down for their nap and asking the housekeeper to keep an eye on them, Olivia went to the clinic. Her suspicion was confirmed—and how. On the ultrasound, the doctors saw five embryos.
Several doctors and the clinic director gathered in the office. They knew Olivia's situation; they knew she was raising a child with special needs. They began by saying the pregnancy had to be terminated. They cited her social situation and medical risks. The director said she would prepare all the paperwork necessary for a termination. Olivia listened in silence. In those few minutes, she had already made her decision: she would not kill the babies. When she said this, her doctor blurted out:
"You're out of your mind! You can't handle a brood like that!"
There were more comments from the other doctors. Different words, but the same meaning: how can you give birth when you have no home of your own, no husband, and no decent job? Seeing that Olivia wouldn't budge, the clinic director gave her an ultimatum:
"If you want to keep the babies, find another clinic to manage this crazy pregnancy. You won't be seen here!"
Late that evening, after the children had run themselves ragged and were fast asleep, Olivia went out onto the porch and sat heavily on the steps. Her mind was blank. It turns out it's possible to have no thoughts at all, except for the conviction that these were her future children. They were alive! The only way to get rid of them was to kill them, and then spend the rest of her life remembering that she had killed her own children.
Olivia didn't notice Daria approaching until she sat down beside her.
"Olivia," Daria said, "what happened?"
Never having been encouraged to share her troubles as a child, Olivia didn't even realize how she ended up telling Daria everything—from her life with her parents and siblings to her refusal to end the lives of her unborn children.
Then Daria began to cry. She spoke about a sin on her own soul—how she had terminated her first pregnancy at a late stage, giving in to doctors who insisted the fetus had severe abnormalities.
"And I killed him!" Daria sobbed. "And he's never once appeared in my dreams... He probably hasn't forgiven me. But you, Olivia, you're doing the right thing! I will help you with everything I can. My husband will understand and help too."
Daria found a doctor who agreed to manage Olivia's pregnancy. She convinced Olivia to go on bed rest in the hospital a month before the due date. She said the children would have another nanny for that time—she and her husband would find the very best. Olivia needed to carry these babies and stay healthy herself. Olivia stayed in the hospital until the birth. Word that quintuplets might soon arrive spread to the city's health department, and they kept the situation under control. At City Hall, they scrambled to find a way to provide a house for a large family. Specifically a house; Daria had explained clearly that a home with its own yard was much better, reminding them that Olivia was already raising a son with special needs whom she had refused to give up. Daria pulled strings and contacted two local TV stations. They agreed that once the babies were safely born—which everyone hoped for—they would air the story immediately and appeal to various foundations and kind-hearted citizens for the help Olivia and her children would need.
But even then, things turned out differently. Olivia, attended by two teams of the most qualified medical professionals, gave birth not to five, but to eight tiny babies, each weighing no more than a pound. And these little ones, whose lives hadn't been taken but gifted, fought to breathe and move their tiny fingers.
Even the veteran medical staff couldn't hold back tears. First, they had never delivered so many children at once from one mother. Second, those children were so determined to live! Soon, the entire country knew that eight children had been born simultaneously to one mother in their city. There had been a couple of similar cases before, and fortunately, all those children had survived. Now, another set of "eight" was added to the rare global list. Olivia and her children were in newspapers and on the news. It wasn't just a news story; it was a tribute to a mother's strength and to the skill of the doctors who delivered and saved eight tiny lives.
Olivia was discharged from the hospital when the smallest of the babies reached three pounds. Many people met her with flowers and balloons. From day one, two visiting nurses were assigned to the family. Olivia and her children moved into a new, fully furnished home with everything needed for a comfortable life. It was a unique case—not just of the birth of octuplets, but of genuine care from the community.
Daria stayed involved in every aspect of the family's life. She organized a rotation of volunteers to help at Olivia's house. Daria often visited with Leo, who was greeted joyfully by Olivia's older sons and soon introduced to the other eight. The octuplets were mischievous, a bit sly, and constantly in motion. Not just Daria, but everyone wondered how Olivia and her older sons could tell them apart—the resemblance was absolute. There were five girls and three boys, but they all looked remarkably like their mother and their older brothers.
Daria once asked Olivia:
"Do you ever think about the nightmare that led to these children?"
"No, Daria, I don't. They are my children and mine alone. Each one is a favorite. Ever since I was a little girl, I wanted a house full of children to love..."
Then Daria, along with her husband, who was a lawyer, decided it was time for the scoundrel behind the garages to answer for what he had done. She remembered how his wealthy father had threatened Olivia. The predator had to be punished. Daria and her husband went to see the father. They explained that they would go public with the case unless the son voluntarily agreed to pay child support for all eight children and a massive settlement for emotional distress. Daria's husband had already calculated the sum needed to build a small private preschool next to Olivia's house.
"Otherwise," Daria said, "prepare for court. DNA will prove these are your son's children. By the way, we didn't come alone. We have film crews and journalists waiting."
The father surrendered. He realized that otherwise, public scandal and prison for his grown child were unavoidable. He accepted the terms. After paying everything, including the full amount of child support until the children turned eighteen, the family left town. Olivia hadn't expected this. She couldn't believe that justice—something she hadn't even dared hope for since childhood—was finally served.
***
Five years passed. Next to Olivia's house, another building rose—her own private preschool. It soon became the most popular in the city. Olivia placed love for children at the center of everything and, with Daria's help, hired a staff that felt the same. Then, Olivia's own personal happiness arrived. Once again, Daria played a role. She introduced Olivia to a widowed father who was raising three children on his own. At first, Daria asked if Olivia could take the children into her preschool. Olivia couldn't say no to Daria. She had to add three more beds and three more seats at the dinner table. The newcomers were outgoing children and fit right in. Olivia, knowing their story, often thought about their father; such men are rare. Her relationship with him developed cautiously. Olivia knew she had ten children of her own, and even with government help, raising them was no small feat. The one thing she never doubted was her love for them. But she saw that same love in this single father—not just for his own, but for all children. And for her, too.
When he asked her to be his wife, Olivia accepted immediately. She thought to herself: if not him, then no one.
Today, a large, happy family lives together. There are many children—thirteen in all. Their parents couldn't tell you on the spot who is "biological" and who isn't. But the children feel it. They always feel whether they are loved or not. And when they are loved, they respond with that same love. In short, Olivia achieved what she had dreamed of since childhood: her own home, many children, and a lifetime of mutual love.
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