“Leave me alone! I didnt promise to marry you! Maybe its not even yours? So go waltz around, and Ill be on my way,” said Viktor, annoyed, to the stunned Valentina. She stood there, unable to believe her eyes or ears. Was this the same Viktor who had confessed his love and carried her in his arms? The same Vitya who called her Valyushenka and promised her the world? Before her stood a confused, angry stranger Valyushenka cried for a week, waved goodbye to Vitya forever, andgiven her age (she was already thirty-five), her plain looks, and slim chances of finding lovedecided to have a child anyway.
Valya gave birth on time to a loud baby girl, naming her Masha. The girl grew up quiet, easy, and caused no trouble, as if knowing that no amount of screaming would change anything. Valya treated her daughter decently, but it was clear she lacked real maternal lovefeeding, clothing, and buying toys, but never hugging, soothing, or playing with her. Little Masha often tugged at her mother, only to be pushed awayalways busy, tired, or with a headache. That instinct never seemed to awaken in her.
When Masha turned seven, the unthinkable happenedValya met a man. Not only that, she brought him home! The whole village buzzedfrivolous Valya! The guy was unreliable, not from around here, no steady job, living who-knew-wheremaybe a scammer! Valya worked at the village store, and he unloaded delivery trucks there. Thats how their romance began. Soon, Valya invited her newfound “fiancé” to move in. Neighbors scorned herbringing a stranger home! What about her little girl? And the man was silent, impossible to talk tomust be hiding something. But Valya ignored them. She knew this was her last shot at happiness.
Soon, opinions changed. Valentinas house, long neglected without a mans touch, needed repairsIgor (that was his name) fixed the porch, patched the roof, and straightened the fence. Every day, he worked, and the house transformed. Seeing his skill, people asked for help.
“If youre old or truly poor, Ill help for free. Otherwise, pay mecash or food.”
Some paid with money, others with preserves, meat, eggs, or milk. Valya had a garden but no livestockhard without a man. Now, their fridge had cream, fresh milk, and butter. Igor was a jack-of-all-tradesfixing, building, cooking. And Valya, never a beauty, glowedsofter, kinder, even smiling (who knew she had dimples?).
Masha grew up, started school. One day, she watched Igor workeverything effortless in his hands. Later, visiting a friend, she returned at dusk and frozeswings stood in the yard, swaying in the breeze, calling to her.
“Are these… for me?!”
“Of course, Mashunya! Test them out!”
Masha swung wildly, wind whistling in her earshappiest girl alive.
With Valya leaving early for work, Igor took over cookingbreakfast, lunch, pies, casseroles. He taught Masha to cook, set tables. So many talents in that quiet man. In winter, he walked her to and from school, carrying her bag, sharing storiescaring for his sick mother, selling his apartment to help her, being cheated out of his childhood home by his brother.
He taught her to fish at dawn, patience on the riverbank. That summer, he bought her first bike, teaching her to ride, dabbing her scraped knees with iodine.
“Shell hurt herself!” Valya fretted.
“Shell live. She must learn to fall and get back up,” he said firmly.
One New Year, he gifted her brand-new skateswhite, beautiful. At midnight, after a feast they prepared together, cheers and clinking glasses, laughter filled the house. The next morning, Valya and Igor woke to Mashas shrieks
“Skates! Real ones! Thank you, thank you!” She clutched them, tears of joy streaming.
At the frozen river, Igor cleared snow while she helped. He taught her to skate, holding her hand until she stood steady, then skated freelyno falls. Ecstatic, she hugged him:
“Thank you… for everything. Thank you, Papa.”
Now Igor criedjoyful, wiping stealthy tears that froze in the cold air.
Masha grew up, moved to the city to study. Life threw challenges, like for anyone. But he was always thereher graduation, food deliveries so his “little one” wouldnt go hungry. He walked her down the aisle, waited outside the maternity ward, adored his grandkids like his own.
And then, as all must, he left. At the funeral, Masha and Valya stood grieving. Tossing a handful of earth, Masha whispered:
“Goodbye, Papa… You were the best father. Ill never forget you.”
In her heart, he stayed forevernot “Igor the stepfather,” but her father. Because a father isnt always the one who creates you, but the one who raises you, shares your pain and joy, stands by you… always.
