Marina watched her son trying on a new suit. Tall, well-built, dark-haired—tomorrow her boy was getting married, and it was hard to believe. Ilya carefully studied his reflection in the mirror. He turned around, nodded in satisfaction, noting that the suit fit perfectly. “Fashionable outfit,” the young man turned to his mother. “And the color is good, it looks expensive.”

“It is expensive,” thought Marina, but aloud she said: “I’m glad you like it. I’ll definitely shed a tear at the wedding as soon as I see you in full dress.”

Ilya finally turned away from the mirror: “Mom, are you going to the wedding or what? We agreed that you wouldn’t be there.”

“We agreed, son? I thought you were joking.”

“What jokes?” The son nervously paced the room. “Did you forget what Vika’s parents are like? The wedding will be full of elites. You’ll feel like a poor relative there. I’ll start worrying about you. Mom, do you want to ruin such an important day for me?”

The son sat down next to Marina on the couch, took her hand, and gently squeezed it: “Mommy, just imagine how out of place you’ll look among those dolled-up ladies. My heart would break from such humiliation. And think about how you’ll feel. We’ll come the day after, okay? Have some tea or champagne. You can congratulate us, give us your gift.”

Marina’s heart clenched with hurt. Her own son was ashamed of her to such an extent that he was prepared to appear at his own wedding like an orphan without kin. “Why would I look out of place?” the mother retorted. “I have an appointment with a good hairdresser, I’ll get my nails done. I’ll wear a decent dress.”

“What decent dress? That blue old thing!” Ilya snapped and paced the room again.

“So that’s it.” He stood in front of his mother. “If you don’t understand the nice way, I’ll tell you straight. I don’t want to see you at the wedding. I may be… but I’m ashamed that my mother is a cleaner. I don’t want you to embarrass me in front of Vika’s relatives. Is that clear?”

Marina was shocked by her son’s confession and could not utter a word. Ilya silently took his backpack, proudly flaunted his suit, and headed for the exit. At the threshold, he stopped: “I’ll say it again, don’t come to the ceremony. No one there will be glad to see you.”

Ilya had left a few hours ago. Twilight had set in, and Marina just sat on the couch in complete stupor. She was so shocked that she couldn’t even cry. Tears came a bit later when the woman turned on the light and pulled an old album with family photos from the dresser. This album contained her entire unembellished life. Memories crashed down on Marina with such force that it was hard to breathe. An old worn photo. There she was, a two-year-old girl with blue eyes, gazing intently into the lens. Her colorful dress clearly second-hand. Beside her, a thin, strange woman with a vacant look and a foolish smile. Even in the poor photo, it was evident that the woman was in high spirits.
Marina was two and a half when her mother lost parental rights and disappeared from her daughter’s life forever. As she grew older, the girl never tried to find her wayward mother. Why bother?

A group photo. Ten-year-old Marina with rebellious golden curls stands in the second row, third from the left. Life in the orphanage was no picnic.

The institution where Marina was raised resembled the troubled shelters from documentary films about the nineties. Cooks were caught stealing food, educators didn’t mince words, and the director turned a blind eye to bullying, uninterested in the methods older children used to maintain discipline.

Three attractive girls in waitress uniforms flirtatiously posed for a photographer on the porch of a building with a crooked sign. After school, Marina didn’t think too much about choosing a profession and quickly got a job as a waitress at a roadside café called “By the Road.” The salary was small, but the tips generously left by customers compensated for this.

Twelve-hour shifts were exhausting, but Marina did not despair. She liked her independent life. Her room in a shared apartment was spacious and bright, and the neighbors, an elderly couple, turned out to be friendly. She had enough money, although not much, and unexpectedly discovered a talent in herself. It turned out that she knew how to dress stylishly on a dime. By buying clothes from second-hands, she remade and altered them into fashionable items. In a summer meadow in the forest, a happy and laughing Marina sat on the grass with a crown of flowers, embraced by a handsome dark-haired guy wearing a similar crown. Many years have passed, but Marina’s heart still skips a beat at the sight of this photo.

She had been working at the café for about a year when she met Maxim. That summer morning, the café was unexpectedly crowded. Marina rushed around the room with a tray, serving impatient customers, and suddenly tripped, spilling tomato juice on a guy by the window. A bright red stain spread across his light shirt. Marina was lost for words, realizing that the shirt was expensive. Before she could recover, Stas, the café administrator, rushed to the table and began fussing, threatening her with dismissal.

“Why worry so much?” the guy smiled, handing Marina the keys to his car. “Don’t worry, I’m going to my parents’ country house. There’s a clean shirt in the car. Could you bring the backpack from the back seat?”

“I’ll bring it, Maxim Nikolaevich,” Stas offered helpfully, snatching the keys. “Otherwise, this chicken might break something in your car too.”

Left alone with the client, Marina finally managed to apologize: “Please forgive me, this is the first time this has happened. I swear, I will compensate you for the damage.”

Maxim replied. “It’s nothing serious.”

Maxim extended his hand. She responded with a handshake and then dared to look at him for the first time.

Stas brought him the backpack and escorted him in order to a back room to change. When he passed by Marina, Stas remarked sarcastically:

“What are you waiting for? Has your shift ended?”

While she was just taking payment from a loving couple, she heard a cheerful voice behind her: “Marina, could you spare me a minute of your attention?”

Maxim, in a fresh blue shirt, was sitting at the same table. “Will you take my order?”

“Of course.”

Serving the attractive visitor, the girl felt awkward. Stas personally escorted the guy to the door, then winked at Marina, “Don’t be upset, I purposely snapped at you, otherwise he might have made you pay for the shirt. It costs more than your salary.”

“How do you know this guy?”

“That’s Max Skvortsov, the mayor’s son. Everyone in town knows him.”

By that evening, Marina was so exhausted from the day’s hustle that she had forgotten about the morning incident. She only desired to get home and collapse into bed.

It was already dark outside. Suddenly, a light foreign car pulled up to the café. On closer inspection, Marina recognized the car. What was the mayor’s son doing here?

Maxim jumped out of the car and headed straight for Marina. He approached and handed her the flowers: “Have you finished work? Sorry, I didn’t know what kind you like, so I chose white roses. But I promise that from now on, I’ll only give you your favorites.”

Marina was completely bewildered.

“I’m actually courting you. Besides, the evening is so lovely, maybe we could go somewhere?”, Max said, laughing.

Everything that was happening seemed like a magical dream. Marina realized that she was ready to go anywhere with him. Yet she quickly came back to reality. She remembered she was dressed in old jeans and a simple t-shirt.

“Thank you, but I’m tired, I can’t today”, Marina said regretfully.

“Then tomorrow?” Max was persistent.

The next day they met, never to part again. It was love at first sight. Maxim was an economics student. He had successfully passed his summer exams, and they started seeing each other every day.

Max introduced Marina to his university friends. Together, they often went swimming and barbecued in the wilderness. It was the brightest, most carefree, and unforgettable time of Marina’s life. She never experienced such happiness again.

Marina and Maxim had already started planning their wedding, but all their dreams about the future collapsed. Maxim’s cousin saw him on the street with some ragamuffin and reported it to daddy-the-mayor. Marina’s life turned into a nightmare.

The Skvortsov family disapproved of their relationship. It was understandable. The only son and a girl from an orphanage. Maxim’s mother called hundreds of times a day, demanding that Marina leave him. Maxim’s cousin came to the cafe and caused a terrible scandal.

Then, neighbors also reported that some people had been asking about Marina for an hour.

“Recently one lady”, confirmed Yakov Ivanovich, a neighbor in the apartment, “offered us good money if we confirmed that you were a drug addict and a prostitute. I threw her out.”

Marina told nothing to her fiancé. She knew that his opportunity for an overseas student exchange was being decided at that moment. Apparently, he was also under pressure, because a worry settled in his eyes. Sometimes he would look tensely at his beloved’s face, but, seeing her gentle smile, he would sigh with relief.

Two weeks before Maxim’s departure, Marina received a phone call.

“This is Nikolai Borisovich, Maxim’s father. You must break up with my son before he leaves. Tell him you have another man. If you ignore my words, you will bitterly regret it.”

The mayor hung up. Marina was ready to give her life for Maxim, how could she possibly give up the man she loved so deeply?

When her beloved flew to London, events began to unfold around Marina that she still remembers as a bad dream. Stas, bribed by the city’s mayor, suddenly accused the waitress of a major shortage, and the girl was arrested.

Marina was in sh0ck by her boss’s vile act. As the case quickly went to court, she had no doubt that the truth would soon come out and these horrible charges would be dismissed.

The trial was like a farce. The lawyer provided by the state barely stayed awake during the proceedings. In contrast, the prosecutor tried his hardest. Every day, Marina hoped that Maxim would appear and save her, but a friend informed her that, according to rumors, the boy was planning to continue his studies in England.

Marina was sentenced to three years. It was only in prison that she learned she was expecting a child.

Marina tried not to think about the time she spent in women’s prison—it was too painful. Overwhelmed by emotions, she quickly turned the page of the family album. The photo showed her dark-haired, gray-eyed little boy. Marina tenderly ran her finger over the image. Her son was so affectionate and clever. Only God knows what it cost her to raise him alone.

After serving a year and a half, Marina was released. Her child had not been taken away. Outside, a myriad of problems awaited her. No one wanted to hire a young woman with a small child, especially one with a criminal record.

Her neighbor Yakov Ivanovich helped get little Ilyushka into daycare, Marina was able to work tirelessly. She worked as a cleaner in a restaurant, cleaned offices in the evenings, worked at a car wash on weekends, and sewed pillowcases and duvet covers at night.

She didn’t look back at the past—why suffer unnecessarily? Once she accidentally met a former friend who told her that the roadside café owner, Stas, had gone bankrupt, Mayor Skvortsov had moved to Moscow with his family after receiving a promotion, and his son had married a beauty from the capital a year ago.

Marina wiped away her tears and went to clean floors at the restaurant. She needed to raise her son.

She always tried to please him with tasty food, expensive toys, fashionable clothes. She was ready to do anything to fulfill all his wishes, as much as possible. If Ilya needed a new gadget, he calmly talked to his mother about it, knowing she would find the necessary amount, or at worst, take on extra work.

Certainly, in that Ilya had grown into such an insensitive egoist, she was to blame too. She never complained to him about being tired, never took sick leave, always gave him the tastiest pieces at dinner. No wonder her son never once considered the price his mother paid for the money. And now he was ashamed of her and didn’t want her, a cleaner, to attend his wedding.

«I understand,» Marina sighed bitterly, then turned to Ilya’s portrait on the wall. «Son, I’ve indulged you for 25 years, but this time I’ll do as I see fit. Forgive me.»

She got out of bed and pulled out a box from the nightstand, where she traditionally kept her savings. Plus, her monthly salary was on the card—enough for an outfit, hairstyle, and a visit to the beautician.

Marina’s appearance at the registry office caused a real stir.

She always looked younger than her years, but after visiting the beauty salon, she seemed to have shed a decade. The guests, especially the men, sneakily glanced at the blonde woman in an exquisite blue dress. During the ceremony, the mother, wiping away tears, admired her serious, slightly bewildered son and his charming bride. It was good that she had come here. After the ceremony, all the guests congratulated the newlyweds. Ilya stealthily made his way through the crowd to his mother and whispered:

«So my request means nothing to you? I hope you’re not going to the restaurant?»

«I won’t,» Marina nodded. «I’ve already seen everything I wanted.»

«Hello!» a flushed Vika rushed up to them. «Marina Anatolyevna, you look stunning! The parents invite you to go to the restaurant with them.»

«Thank you, but it’s time for me to leave.»

«What do you mean, time?» Vika was indignant. «Ilya, what’s happening?»

«Really, Mom, where are you rushing to? It’s your only son’s wedding,» Ilya invited his mother to the restaurant with a forced smile.

When it was time for parents to congratulate the young couple, Marina took the microphone:

«Children, be happy, love each other for a lifetime…»

As she descended from the small stage, the woman nearly bumped into a tall man in an expensive suit.

«It can’t be,» said Maxim, blocking her path. «Marishka, is it really you? What are you doing here?»

«Maxim?» Marina couldn’t believe her eyes.

«The bride’s father is my business partner, he invited me to the wedding. What a handsome son you have.» Maxim, nervously, took Marina’s hand. «Maybe we could step aside, talk by the window? Are you here alone, without a husband? I’ve been divorced for 10 years now, and I don’t have any children.»

They talked for an hour. Maxim told how his father, having flown to him abroad, informed him that Marina had met another guy and moved to Moscow with him. Shocked, Max didn’t believe his father but, fearing to humiliate his beloved with suspicions, decided to first find out the truth from his best friend. The friend went to the roadside café but didn’t find the girl there. The owner and waitresses unanimously confirmed the information received from the father.

«I nearly went mad with grief then, stayed in England for another six months, then returned to Moscow. My dad got promoted, then I got married. Was I happy all these years? Not a minute. Only in my youth with you. But how have you been living all this time?»

«Let’s not talk about sad things,» Marina suggested. «It’s a wedding, after all. I’ll tell you everything later, but now invite me to dance.»

Guests couldn’t take their eyes off the beautiful couple. Ilya watched his mother and didn’t recognize her. He suddenly thought that his mom was a very attractive woman who had given up her personal life for him. For the first time in his life, Ilya felt truly ashamed. Then he noticed that his mother, arm-in-arm with some wealthy man, was heading towards the exit, and caught up with her on the porch.

«Mom, where are you going?»

«I’m leaving. That’s what you wanted,» the mother reminded.

«Mom, I’m sorry, but where are you going with this man?»

«I’m ready to go with him to the ends of the earth,» Marina sincerely confessed. «By the way, meet your father, Maxim.»

Ilya looked bewildered at Marina. She paused and added with a smile:

«Yes, it looks like we have a very long conversation ahead. But not today. Today is a wedding!»

On Thanksgiving Eve, I Took in an Abandoned Child Only to Uncover My Boyfriend’s True Intentions — Story of the Day

On Thanksgiving Eve, a single moment unraveled everything I thought I knew about love, family, and the future I’d planned. One unexpected encounter forced me to face a choice I never saw coming.

My cart was brimming with everything needed for the perfect Thanksgiving Eve: turkey, cranberry sauce, pumpkin pie, and even a bouquet of fresh flowers for the centerpiece. It was a ritual I loved, a chance to create something warm and special, even if Paul and I hadn’t fully agreed on what “special” meant for our future.

Passing the baby aisle, I couldn’t help but slow down. Rows of soft onesies and tiny shoes drew my gaze. I imagined the life I longed for—children laughing, little hands helping set the table. Paul hadn’t warmed to the idea yet, but I told myself he would someday.

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“I need to grab some wine,” Paul said suddenly, pulling me from my thoughts. “Why don’t you finish up here? I’ll meet you at the car.”

“Okay. Don’t be long.”

He leaned in, kissed my cheek lightly, and walked away toward the liquor section. Before I could reach for the whipped cream on my list, a frantic voice startled me.

“Excuse me! Please, can you hold her for just a minute?”

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I turned to see a woman, her face pale and her eyes darting around. Without waiting for my answer, she placed a small child in my arms.

“I’ll be right back!” she said hurriedly and disappeared into the aisles.

The little girl was so light in my arms, clutching a well-worn stuffed rabbit and staring up at me. Her light curls framed her face, giving her an angelic, fragile look.

“Uh… hi there,” I said, crouching down to her level and carefully setting her on her feet. “What’s your name?”

“Ella,” she whispered, holding her rabbit closer.

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“That’s a beautiful name.

I glanced around, hoping to catch sight of her mother, but the aisle was empty. Minutes ticked by, turning into ten. Unease settled deep in my stomach.

I couldn’t wait any longer, so I walked with Ella to the security desk to seek help to locate her mother. The staff quickly made an announcement over the intercom, but no one came forward. Ella pressed herself against my side.

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“Mommy said I’d spend the holidays with a new mommy,” she whispered.

The words hit me like a blow. My throat tightened as I fought back the surge of emotion.

“Lisa?” Paul approached, holding a bottle of wine in one hand and frowning as he took in the scene.

“What’s going on?” he asked, glancing between Ella and me.

I explained quickly, my words tumbling out.

“We need to take her to the police,” Paul said firmly. “They’ll know what to do.”

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I hesitated, looking down at Ella. Her tiny hand was still gripping mine like I was the only thing anchoring her to safety.

“Paul, I…”

“This isn’t something you can solve, Lisa,” he interrupted. “It’s not safe to keep her with us.”

I nodded, feeling a heavy weight settle in my chest as we walked to the car. Ella climbed into the backseat. She didn’t cry or fuss, she just stared quietly out the window as the streetlights flickered past.

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***

Paul drove in silence. I glanced at Ella. Her small figure looked so vulnerable huddled in the back seat. With every passing mile, the pull to protect her only grew stronger.

“Is that turkey in the bag?” Ella’s small voice broke the silence.

“Yes,” I said, turning slightly to meet her gaze. “It’s for Thanksgiving dinner.”

“What’s Thanksgiving?” she asked, tilting her head as though trying to puzzle it out.

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“It’s a holiday where we celebrate everything we’re thankful for,” I explained. “We gather with family, share a big meal, and spend time together.”

She frowned slightly. “I’ve never had a Thanksgiving. Is turkey good?”

The simplicity of her question hit me harder than I expected.

“Turkey’s delicious. And cranberry sauce, too. Have you ever tried it?”

Ella shook her head, clutching the rabbit closer. “No. Mommy says holidays are for other people.”

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My heart ached for her. As the police station came into view, I felt my pulse quicken.

“Paul, pull over,” I said suddenly, pointing to a gas station on the right.

“What?” He glanced at me, his brows knitting together. “We’re almost there, Lisa. Let’s just get this done.”

“Please, Paul. I need a moment to think.”

With a huff of frustration, he turned into the gas station and parked by the pumps. I unbuckled my seatbelt and stepped out into the crisp November air.

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Paul followed. “What are you doing?”

“I’m not sure we should take her to the station yet. She’s just a child, Paul. She’s never had a Thanksgiving dinner. She’s never even tasted turkey.”

“And how is that our problem?” he shot back, gesturing toward the car. “Lisa, this isn’t our responsibility.”

“Maybe not. But doesn’t she deserve one happy evening? One night where she feels safe and loved?”

“Are you serious right now? You want to bring a stranger’s kid into our home? Do you even hear yourself?”

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I nodded. At that moment, Paul strode to the car, opened the back door, and motioned for Ella to get out.

“Paul, wait…” I started, panic rising in my chest.

“Good luck, Lisa,” he said coldly, climbing back into the driver’s seat.

Without another glance, he pulled away, leaving Ella and me standing at the gas station.

“It’s okay,” Ella whispered, looking up at me with a brave smile.

Her words both broke and steadied me. I knew I couldn’t turn back.

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***

Ella and I returned to the store. As we wandered through the aisles, I let her pick out a few extra decorations—paper turkeys, bright orange streamers, and even a tiny plush turkey she hugged tightly as if it were a long-lost friend.

“Can we get these too?” she asked, pointing to a pack of colorful paper napkins with cartoon pilgrims on them.

“Of course,” I said, smiling. “Anything else?”

She tilted her head thoughtfully, then grabbed a bag of marshmallows. “These.”

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I couldn’t go back to Paul’s place, but thankfully, I had my small apartment. It wasn’t festive or particularly grand, but it was mine. So, arriving at my apartment, we began the transformation.

Ella’s enthusiasm was contagious as she helped unpack the bags. Later, she insisted on stirring the cranberry sauce, her small hands gripping the wooden spoon tightly as she stood on a step stool.

“Is this okay?” she asked, looking up at me.

“It’s perfect,” I assured her. “You’re a natural.”

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The apartment began to glow from the warmth Ella brought into the space. When the turkey was finally ready, I carried it to the table, and Ella gasped as if I had presented her with a treasure.

“It’s so big,” she whispered, her eyes as round as the plates I’d set out.

“Let’s eat!” I said, pulling out a chair for her.

She hesitated, standing by her seat. “This is like a real Thanksgiving, right?”

“It is. The realest one I’ve ever had.”

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We sat together, and Ella’s laughter rang out as she tried cranberry sauce for the first time, her face scrunching up before she declared it “weird but good.”

Ella sat on the floor, cradling her plush turkey and staring at the glowing candles.

“Tomorrow, it’ll be over. I know I can’t stay.”

I knelt beside her, pulling her into my arms. “Ella, I wish you could. But tonight is ours, okay? No one can take this away.”

She nodded against my shoulder. “Thank you for today. It was the best day ever.”

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Meanwhile, a sharp knock at the door shattered the moment. I opened the door to find two representatives from Child Protective Services standing there. Behind them, Paul stood silently.

The CPS worker knelt at Ella’s level. “Hi, sweetie. We’re here to take you somewhere safe.”

Ella’s grip on my arm tightened. “Do I have to go?”

“They’ll take good care of you. I promise.”

Her small hand slipped from mine as they gently led her away. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and she kept looking back at me, her turkey clutched tightly to her chest.

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***

As the door closed behind the CPS workers, I stood frozen, the emptiness of the apartment settling over me. Ella’s laughter still echoed faintly in my ears, but the warmth of the evening had vanished. I barely registered Paul’s footsteps as he walked up behind me.

“Well,” he said casually, his tone almost cheerful. “Let’s head to my place. We can still have that Thanksgiving dinner we planned.”

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I turned to him slowly. “Paul… are you serious?”

My voice wavered, caught somewhere between disbelief and anger. He frowned slightly as if he couldn’t quite grasp what I was upset about.

“What? I know tonight’s been… different, but we can still salvage it. I’ve got everything ready back home.”

“Paul,” I said, my words sharp, “how can you even think about that right now?”

“Is this about earlier? Look, I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have left you two like that. I… I overreacted.”

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I stared at him. “You weren’t thinking clearly? Paul, a little girl needed one evening of love, of feeling like someone cared about her!”

He stepped closer, his hands raised in a gesture of appeasement.

“I get it. And I’m sorry. But Lisa, you can’t let this ruin everything. We’re good together as we are. Why complicate things with kids?”

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“Paul, this isn’t just about Ella. I’m 36. It’s about the family I’ve dreamed of.”

“Lisa, I love you. Isn’t that enough?”

“Not really. Not in the way I need us to be.”

“You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“Yes. I am.”

“I guess this is it, then,” Paul muttered, heading for the door.

I didn’t stop him. The life I had imagined with him was nothing more than an illusion.

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***

That night, sleep was impossible. I lay awake, my mind replaying every moment with Ella. By morning, I drove to CPS and explained my intentions. The caseworker warned me of the challenges.

“These processes take time. It won’t be easy.”

“I’ll wait,” I said without hesitation. “However long it takes.”

Weeks passed. Finally, on Christmas Eve, the call came. My approval had been finalized. Ella was coming home.

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When I opened the door to see her standing there, her small face breaking into a smile, the weight of the past months disappeared. She ran into my arms, hugging me tightly.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“Welcome home, Ella.”

That night, we decorated a Christmas tree together, stringing lights and hanging ornaments. Ella became my miracle, the heart of every holiday to come, and the family I had dreamed of for so long.

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