“Hello? Ambulance? Please, you have to come quickly… I just found a baby. A newborn. Someone left it here, in the entrance hall—just abandoned it…”
Kristina’s voice trembled as she held the phone tightly, her free hand hovering protectively over the tiny bundle in front of her.
That morning had begun so simply.
She was up at dawn, determined to beat the morning rush to the store. Fresh bread and her favorite curd snacks—those sweet, tangy little treats she loved to pair with tea—were often gone by mid-morning. Jeans, sweater, sneakers—her usual outfit thrown on in a practiced blur. Outside, the day was just beginning to stretch itself awake; the soft, silver haze of an early summer sunrise draped over the apartment blocks like a gentle promise.
As she opened her front door, her eyes caught the scattered remains of yesterday’s visit—her nephew’s old toys still lying in the hallway: a toy car missing two wheels, a tractor without its scoop. Kristina smiled faintly as she picked them up and placed them on the shelf.
“It’s nice… the sound of kids in the building. Even if they’re not your own.”
She had no children yet. There were reasons—her job, timing, or perhaps the recent breakup with a man who had turned out to be not nearly as ready for commitment as he claimed. She’d put her phone and wallet into her purse and headed out, unaware of what the morning truly had in store.
Downstairs, the courtyard was already waking up. Two students sat on a bench, chatting and smoking lazily. An older woman bustled about near the garden beds.
“Good morning, Aunt Valya!” Kristina greeted warmly.
“Out early again?” the woman smiled, adjusting her scarf.
“Just going for bread.”
The “Pyaterochka” store wasn’t far. She moved quickly, grabbed what she needed—bread, cheese, fruit, a few yogurts, and two cans of peas (in case she felt like making salad)—and joined a short line at the checkout. She was in and out in twenty minutes, humming a tune as she walked the familiar path home, her shopping bag swinging gently in rhythm with her steps. The warmth of the sun, the ease of the morning… everything felt so perfectly ordinary.
Until she reached her building.
Near the entrance, she noticed unfamiliar faces—one woman holding a child and pacing nervously, another man speaking into his phone in hushed tones. Guests, maybe. She didn’t give them much thought.
But as she pushed open the glass door, something made her stop in her tracks.
A sound. Faint. Almost too faint. A soft, stifled cry—like the echo of a whisper caught in the stairwell.
Was that… a baby?
Kristina froze. Her pulse quickened.
“Did anyone else hear that?” she asked the people behind her.
“I didn’t hear a thing,” one man said, brushing past her.
“Probably just your imagination,” muttered another woman.
But Kristina knew she wasn’t imagining it. The cry was real—and it was coming from the dim passage tucked between the stairwell and the garbage chute room. A place usually cluttered with old boxes and discarded furniture.
She followed the sound.
And there, amidst the shadows, she saw it: a small bundle. Her breath caught in her throat. She knelt and gently peeled back the edge of the blanket.
A baby. Tiny. Fragile. No more than a week old.
Its face was pale, lips tinged with blue. The makeshift wrapping was thin, thrown together. There was no bottle, no diaper, no note—just the child, alone.
Kristina’s hands trembled. Her heart felt like it was splitting in two.
Who could do this? Who could leave something so precious, so helpless… like this?
She didn’t waste a second. Her fingers, shaking, dialed the emergency number.
“Hello, ambulance? Please, hurry. There’s a baby here… I think someone abandoned it in the hallway.”
Her voice cracked as she looked down at the infant again, her soul already tethered to the life that had suddenly—desperately—entered hers.