We adopted a 4-year-old girl – a month later she came to me and said: “Mom, don’t trust Dad.”
A month later, after we adopted Zhenya, she looked at me with her big eyes and whispered:
— Mom, don’t trust Dad.
Her words echoed in my head, and I wondered what secrets my husband might be hiding.
I looked down at my little girl, her big, attentive eyes and her shy, uncertain smile. After so many years of waiting and hoping, she was finally here – our little girl.
Oleg was literally beaming. He couldn’t take his eyes off her, as if he wanted to memorize every feature, every expression on her face.
“Look, Marina,” he whispered, his voice full of admiration. “She’s just perfect.”
I smiled slightly and put my hand on Zhenya’s shoulder.
“She’s really amazing.”
We’ve come such a long way to get here. Visits to doctors, long conversations, endless paperwork with documents. When we first met Zhenya, I knew right away that she was our little girl.
She was so tiny, so quiet, but I already felt that she was ours.
A few weeks had passed since we officially adopted Zhenya, and we decided to take a little family trip. Oleg leaned down to her, smiling:
“How about some ice cream? Please?”
Zhenya looked at him, then up at me, as if waiting for my reaction. He didn’t answer right away, he just nodded slightly, pressing himself against me.
Oleg smiled softly, but there was a slight uncertainty in his voice.
“Okay, let’s go get some ice cream then! Let’s make it a special experience.”
Zhenya stayed by my side the whole time. Oleg walked ahead of us, turning back now and then, smiling, trying to talk to him. But every time he asked a question, his fingers tightened on my hand, and his gaze returned to me.
When we got to the cafe, Oleg went to the counter to order for him.
“Maybe chocolate? Or strawberry?” his voice rang with joy.
Zhenya looked at him, then looked up at me again. He said, barely audible,
“I’ll have vanilla.”
Oleg looked confused for a moment, but then he smiled.
“Vanilla, then vanilla.”
Zhenya seemed pleased, but I noticed that he hardly looked at Oleg at all. He ate in silence, staying by my side. His gaze was alert, attentive, but he said nothing. Maybe he just needed more time, I thought.
Later, when I put Zhenya down, he unexpectedly squeezed my hand a little tighter than usual.
“Mom?” he whispered uncertainly.
“Yes, baby?”
He looked away, then back at me. His eyes were serious and wide.
“Don’t trust Dad.”
I froze, my heart skipping a beat. I knelt down by his bed and gently brushed his hair from his forehead.
“Why do you say that, baby?”
Zhenya shrugged, her lips pulling into a sad grimace.
“You talk strangely. As if she’s hiding something.”
It took me a few seconds to find an answer. I tried to speak as kindly as possible.
“Zhenya, Daddy loves you very much. He just wants you to feel at home. You know that, right?”
She didn’t answer. She just snuggled deeper under the covers. I sat next to him, holding his hand, trying to figure out where he got this idea. Maybe he was just scared? Maybe it was harder for him to get used to it than I thought? But when I looked into his serious eyes, I felt a slight unease.
When I came out of his room, Oleg was already waiting for me at the door.
“How are you?” he asked, his voice ringing with hope.
“He fell asleep,” I answered quietly, carefully watching his reaction.
“Good,” he seemed relieved, but I noticed his smile trembled a little. “I know this is a new world for him. For all of us. But I think everything will be fine in time. You think so too, don’t you?”
I nodded, but I couldn’t get Zhenya’s words out of my head.
The next day, while I was cooking dinner, I heard Oleg calling in the living room. His voice was tense, muffled.
I froze, wiped my hands on the towel, and listened.
“It’s harder than I thought,” he said, almost whispering. “He’s… too attentive. Zhenya notices more than I expected. I’m afraid he’ll tell Marina.”
My heart started pounding. Will he tell me? What will he tell Marina?
“It’s just… it’s hard to keep it a secret,” Oleg continued. “I don’t want Marina to know… at least not until the right moment comes.”
I clutched the edge of the kitchen table, trying to process what I’d heard. What shouldn’t I know?
After a few seconds, he ended the conversation and went into the kitchen. I suddenly turned toward the stove, trying to act as if nothing had happened.
“It smells delicious,” he said, and hugged me.
I forced myself to smile, but everything inside was tight.
Later, when Zhenya was already asleep, I couldn’t take it anymore.
“Oleg,” I began, sitting down opposite him. “I heard your phone conversation.”
He looked up, a shadow of surprise crossing his face.
“What did you hear?”
“You said Zhenya could tell me something. That it was hard for you to keep secrets. Oleg… what are you hiding from me?”
He looked at me, tense at first, then his face softened.
