The maid, moved by compassion, fed the orphan while the employers were absent. When the affluent couple returned, they could hardly believe what they saw.
Yulia Antonovna had served the Grigoryev family for many years—Vladimir and Lyudmila. On this particular day, the couple was away, and after finishing her chores, Yulia sat by the window to relax.
Her attention was drawn to a small, frail boy walking near the fence of their property. Dressed in ragged clothes and looking lost, he seemed to be wandering aimlessly.
«Perhaps he’s hungry,» Yulia thought with sympathy for the boy. She glanced at the clock in the living room, deciding the couple wouldn’t return soon, and stepped outside.
«What’s your name?» she asked gently, addressing the boy, who was focused on the street. «Vasya,» he answered, peering up at her with cautious eyes.
«Come with me, Vasya. I’ll give you some fresh apple pie,» Yulia offered kindly, and without hesitation, the boy followed her. His stomach had been growling from hunger all day—he hadn’t eaten anything yet.
In the kitchen, Yulia carefully cut a large piece of pie and placed it before the hungry child. «This is delicious!» Vasya exclaimed, eagerly biting into the soft pastry.
«My mother used to bake pies like this,» he added with a bittersweet smile. «Where’s your mother?» Yulia asked, her voice soft. The boy stopped eating, his eyes lowered in sorrow.
«I’ve been looking for her… She disappeared,» he said quietly. «Don’t worry, eat up,» Yulia reassured him. «You’ll find her, I’m sure of it.»
At that moment, the front door creaked open, signaling the return of Vladimir and Lyudmila. Yulia stiffened as she heard their footsteps.
«And who do we have here?» Vladimir asked in surprise, peering into the kitchen. His eyes widened when he saw the boy. «Yulia, who is this?» he demanded sternly.
«This child is looking for his mother. He was hungry, so I decided to feed him,» Yulia responded calmly, shrugging slightly. «So now you’re taking in strays? And our opinion doesn’t matter anymore?»
Vladimir protested angrily. Hearing these harsh words, Vasya’s eyes filled with tears. «I’ll leave,» he whispered, placing his half-eaten pie back on the plate.
But before he could move, Lyudmila stepped forward, her voice gentle. «Wait, child. Tell me, where are you from? Where did you lose your mother?»
Lyudmila had always been more compassionate than her husband, though Vladimir often criticized her for being too kind. Yet, he never managed to change her caring nature.
«I live with my grandfather, but he’s mean. He always scolds me, sometimes even hits me. So, I ran away,» Vasya confessed, pulling a faded photograph from his pocket.
«These are my parents. We used to live together,» he said, wiping away his tears as he handed the picture to Lyudmila. As Lyudmila looked at the photo, her breath caught in her throat.
The woman in the picture was their daughter, Varya! «Volodya, look! It’s our Varya!» she cried, her voice trembling as she passed the photo to her husband.
Vladimir took the photo slowly, his expression one of disbelief. «Vasya, how did you get this?» he asked, astonished. «I stole it from my grandfather,» Vasya explained.
«There’s an address on the back, so I came here. I thought maybe my mother lives here,» he added, beginning to calm down. «My grandfather always says my mother abandoned me, but I don’t believe him!»
Lyudmila was in shock. «It can’t be… It can’t be!» she repeated, recalling how their daughter, Varya, had once run away with a Gypsy named Manush.
They hadn’t heard from her in years, and then, after her return, she had been involved in an accident. That day had shattered their lives, leaving them alone in their large home.
«Where’s your father?» Vladimir asked. «He’s gone. He was buried six months ago,» Vasya replied, his voice breaking. The couple stood stunned. They had found their grandson.
«We’ll take you in,» Lyudmila said softly, taking Vasya’s hand. «Will my mother come?» the boy asked anxiously. «Your mother is with your father now,» Lyudmila answered sadly.
Vasya’s face went pale at the response.
A few days later, the adoption papers were finalized. The boy’s grandfather didn’t object, as he was content knowing his grandson would be cared for by a wealthy family.
Yulia Antonovna was overjoyed. Thanks to her kindness that day, the Grigoryevs had found happiness once again.
Over time, Vasya was no longer the hungry, ragged child. He was now a well-dressed young boy, polite and loved, embraced by his new family.
