— Did you think you could drag me to the registrar’s office with a baby bump? And your parents would just hand us the keys to a three-bedroom apartment on a silver platter?
Alina looked up at him.
— What do my parents have to do with this? We talked about this already…
— Let your dad stop acting high and mighty and just give his daughter some money for an apartment!
Alina sat on the edge of the tiled bathtub, clutching the positive test, listening to the clatter of dishes as Kirill banged around in the kitchen.
They had lived in perfect harmony for five years—or at least, that’s how it seemed to her.
The only things missing for complete happiness were a marriage certificate and their own apartment.
Kirill entered the bathroom without knocking.
He saw her face, then the positive test, and froze.
— What’s that?
— I’m pregnant, Kir. Eight weeks, according to this test.
He didn’t rush to hug her, didn’t drop to his knees. He just smirked.
— I see. So you’re going all in, huh? — he threw a towel into the laundry basket. — Planning to trap me into marriage with a baby bump?
And your parents are supposed to magically produce the keys to that spacious apartment, right?
Alina looked up at him.
— What do my parents have to do with this? We discussed this…
— We discussed that we’d have kids when we had stability! — his voice rose. — When your dad stops acting like he’s someone special and gives you money for a place of your own!
You know I can’t afford a mortgage right now. And I can’t afford a baby either.
But no, you just had to get yourself pregnant! Did you really think I’d stick around no matter what?
— I didn’t plan this, Kirill…
— Save those stories for your doctor’s office. This is your problem, Alina. Yours alone.
I’m not taking on that kind of responsibility.
Alina almost burst into tears.
He wasn’t happy…
***
He packed his things in an hour. No drama, no noise. He just threw what he thought was his into two sports bags.
Alina stood in the doorway, watching him methodically fold his t-shirts.
— Where will you go? — she asked as he zipped up the bag.
— To my mom’s. Or I’ll rent something smaller. I don’t need a palace, unlike some people.
— Kirill, this is our child. Do you understand that?
He straightened up, slung the bag over his shoulder, and looked at her as if seeing her for the first time.
— No, Alina. That’s your child. I’ll help… if I can.
But I refuse to live a lie.
I expected honesty, and what did I get?
When the front door closed behind him, Alina didn’t cry. She walked to the window and watched his gray car drive away from the yard.
His words about her parents echoed in her mind.
Yes, her dad was always a man of principle—a successful businessman who believed everything in life should be earned.
The next day, Alina went to see her parents.
Her father, Nikolai Stepanovich, listened as she told him he’d soon be a grandfather.
Her mother, Vera Pavlovna, just gasped and squeezed her daughter’s hand tightly.
— And where is that… partner of yours?
— He left. Said I deceived him. That he wanted an apartment from you, and since that’s not happening, there’s no family either.
Nikolai Stepanovich let out a deep sigh.
— A man should be a rock, Alina. Your Kirill is nothing. I warned you from the start that he was only after your dowry.
I told you all along, he was just after your inheritance.
I have plenty of money, you know that. But I didn’t work this hard just to feed a grown man who wouldn’t even bother to pay for a marriage license.
“Dad, he said you’re being stubborn…”
“Yeah, I’m being stubborn!” her father slammed his hand on the table. “I said: give your family a home, and I’ll help with a car and furniture.”
And how did he answer? ‘I’m not her husband.’ Well, there you go. So what do you want from me?
“Kolya, but she’s pregnant…” Vera Pavlovna added quietly.
“I can see she’s pregnant. I’ll help you, Alina. I’ll give everything to my grandchild. But that man is not allowed in my house.”
If he decides to come back—forget about my support.
I won’t leave you without financial support. I’ll buy you an apartment. For you and the baby.
But not a single millimeter of it will be in his name.
Do you understand me?
Alina nodded. She knew her father had a point, but somehow his logic offered her no comfort.
In fact, it just made things worse…
***
The months of pregnancy dragged on endlessly.
Alina kept working at the ad agency until the very end—she wanted to stay independent for as long as possible.
Kirill barely reached out. Every couple of weeks, she’d get a short message in her messenger:
“How are you feeling?”
Alina always replied curtly:
“Fine.”
And that was it.
He never offered money, never asked if she needed vitamins—he totally distanced himself from this “problem.”
One day, when her belly was so big it was hard to breathe, he called.
“I’ve been thinking…” he started awkwardly. “Maybe I was too harsh?”
“What are you talking about, Kirill?” Alina was surprised.
“Well, maybe we should try living together? We could rent a bigger place. My mom says the baby needs a father.”
“What about the ‘trickery’?” Alina replied with a bitter smile.
“I overreacted. You have to understand, it hurt my pride.”
Your dad acts like a king. He could have helped us get started, given us a leg up.
“He is helping, Kir. He’s buying an apartment for me. It’ll be in my name and our son’s.”
There was a long pause on the line.
“And under what conditions? Will I be able to register there?”
“No. That was his first rule. He doesn’t want to see you there.”
“Well your dad’s an idiot!” Kirill exploded. “He’s interfering in our lives again! So I’m just supposed to be a guest?”
No, Alina, that’s not a family! In a family, spouses own everything together!
He hung up on her. Alina didn’t even feel upset.
***
Labor was tough and lasted sixteen hours.
But when they placed that tiny, wrinkly bundle on her chest, Alina realized all her fears were meaningless.
Now she had someone to live for.
Kirill showed up for the hospital release, even brought a cheap little bouquet.
Nikolai Stepanovich arrived earlier. He stood by his black SUV, arms crossed, staring down his almost-son-in-law.
“Let me see,” Kirill asked as Alina stepped out onto the hospital porch.
She lifted the corner of the baby blanket.
“Looks like me…” Kirill whispered, reaching for the baby’s tiny face. “He’s got my nose. My chin, too.”
“Seen enough?” came Nikolai Stepanovich’s voice from behind. “Now step aside. Alina has a routine, and the baby needs to rest.”
Kirill bristled.
“I’m the father, you know! I have rights!”
“A real father is the one who paid for the hospital room and built the crib,” Nikolai Stepanovich snapped. “You? You’re just a biological donor!”
Go on, Kirill, don’t embarrass yourself. There aren’t going to be any gifts.
Kirill glanced at Alina, hoping for some support, but she stayed silent.
She looked at him now and couldn’t see the man she’d loved for five years.
“I get it,” Kirill spat out. “You’ll come crawling back yourself when your old man smothers you with his overprotection.”
He tossed the bouquet onto the bench and walked away without looking back. Alina didn’t take the flowers.
Alina handled the paperwork herself and gave her son her own last name.
She was living in a new apartment her father had bought.
Bright, spacious, with a view of the park.
Nikolai Stepanovich kept his word — the apartment was registered so that no outsiders could claim it.
Her parents helped, but her father always reminded her:
“On your own, Alina. You’re responsible for two now.”
Kirill sometimes sent money, five to seven thousand at a time. No messages attached.
Once a month, he’d text: “I’ll come by on Saturday.”
But every Saturday, something came up: the car would break down, or there’d be a crisis at work.
He never saw his son.
***
Alina was walking home with the stroller when she saw Kirill. He was sitting on the bench near the entrance, looking rumpled and defeated.
“Hi,” he stood up to meet her. “Can we talk?”
“Say what you need to say.”
“I quit my job. Well, actually, they asked me to leave. Had a fight with the boss.”
“Sorry to hear that. But how am I supposed to help?”
Kirill hesitated, shifting from foot to foot.
“I’ve got nowhere to live. My mom’s splitting up her apartment and moving in with my sister.”
I thought… maybe I could stay with you for a couple of weeks? Until I find work.
After all, I’m the father. The kid needs my attention.
Come on, give me one last chance!” Kirill tried his trump card. “Alina, do you really want our son to get teased by other kids?”
You know how cruel kids can be, they’ll call Nikitka names!
And a boy needs to be raised by his father.
Fine, I admit I was wrong, I overreacted back then. I want to make it up to both you and my son.
Can I move in with you, please?
Alina looked at him and snorted:
“My son’s name is Maxim,” Alina said coldly. “And you, ‘dad,’ can’t even remember his name.”
No, Kirill.
“What do you mean, ‘no’?” he asked, stunned. “Alina, don’t be so heartless! You live in a palace and I’m supposed to sleep on the street?”
“First of all, my father made sure his grandson is protected. Second, you yourself said you didn’t want the child. Why would he need your attention? He doesn’t even know you!”
“I was just under a lot of stress back then!”
“And I was pregnant and terrified. But I managed. You didn’t.”
“You have no right!” he raised his voice, drawing glances from passersby. “I’ll go to court to decide where the child lives! I’ll take the boy myself!”
“Where, Kirill? To the train station? Or to your sister’s place?”
Go ahead. The court will love seeing your five-thousand-ruble payments and your lack of a steady income.
Get out, Kirill! I don’t want to see you!
Suddenly, Kirill stopped—he realized his threats weren’t working anymore.
Alina was no longer that easily influenced girl who could be made to feel guilty. And she doesn’t love him anymore.
He turned around and walked toward the exit of the courtyard.
Alina watched him go.
***
That evening, her father arrived. He brought a huge bag of groceries and a new educational toy.
“Vera said that Maksimkin’s dad stopped by to visit today,” he mentioned.
“Is that true?” he asked as he walked into the kitchen.
“It’s true, Dad. He wanted to stay here for a while.”
Nikolai Stepanovich gave a little chuckle as he pulled a bottle of expensive olive oil from the bag.
“And what did you say?”
“I told him that was his problem.”
“Good,” he said simply. “Well done.”
“Dad, I found a job. Remote work at a big agency. I’ll start in a month at half-time. I’ll be able to pay the utilities and the nanny myself.”
Nikolai Stepanovich smiled.
“That’s the way. Help is just a crutch, Alina—it takes away your freedom. You need to walk on your own two feet.”
But remember—I’m always right behind you.
That evening, they spent a long time sitting in the kitchen, drinking tea, and talking about the future. For the first time in many years, their conversation was on truly equal terms.
***
Kirill never showed up again. From mutual acquaintances, Alina learned he had moved to another city, looking for a new “promising” partner with wealthy parents.
Alina is raising her son on her own, working, and basically supporting their little family.
She doesn’t deny her parents the pleasure of spoiling their only grandson.
Now she has a reliable support—the very “shoulder” she always needed—and the future doesn’t seem quite so frightening anymore.