Fyodor saw his mother’s name flash on his phone screen, but he felt no urgency to answer. He already knew what the call was about—more money for his younger brother, Alexey. That was the only reason she ever contacted him. Every time he refused, she would lash out with accusations, her words sharp and unrelenting.
“You should have gotten rid of you when I had the chance! My grandmother even told me a method, but I took pity on you. You never should have been born! I never loved your father; he took advantage of my weakness, and now you’re draining the life out of me!”
Fyodor never understood what he had done to deserve such treatment. He had always been a good student, worked hard, and managed to secure a university spot without costing his mother a dime. To make things easier for her, he even moved into a dormitory so she wouldn’t feel burdened by his presence. Despite everything, he still longed for her love. As a child, he had secretly watched her cradle Alexey with affection, speaking to him tenderly, teaching him with patience and care. With Fyodor, there were only harsh words and indifference.
At first, his stepfather treated him and Alexey equally, but over time, he began to mirror his wife’s behavior. Fyodor became the household scapegoat—the one to yell at when something went wrong, the one to blame when frustration needed a target. Living in the dormitory was lonely, but at least there was peace. Perhaps because of his painful childhood, he found it difficult to connect with his classmates. The only place he felt safe was the library, surrounded by books. Unlike people, books could not betray or hurt him. He lived through the stories of the characters, imagining himself as someone worthy of love—if only in fiction.
After university, Fyodor secured a job and rented a small apartment. He had no intention of returning to a home where he was not wanted. Then, unexpectedly, his mother called. She wanted to meet. She apologized, claimed she had been wrong, and admitted to treating him unfairly in the past. Having been starved of affection his whole life, Fyodor desperately wanted to believe her. He saw it as a chance to finally experience the love he had always craved.
Soon, she began inviting him to family gatherings, calling him just to ask how he was doing. He felt happy, unaware of where it was all leading.
At first, she asked for small favors—helping Alexey with his university studies, writing his essays, preparing reports, completing coursework. She spoke sweetly, praised him, told him how smart he was and how much they needed him. It was the kind of praise he had never received before, not even when he earned a gold medal in school or secured a university scholarship. When she whispered that Alexey was not very bright and needed his help, Fyodor felt a sense of importance he had never known.
Then Alexey barely graduated, and financial problems began. The calls became more frequent. His mother needed money—always for Alexey, who had either gotten into trouble or found himself deep in debt. Fyodor gave her nearly everything he earned, cutting back on his own needs just to meet her endless demands.
Eventually, even Alexey’s father, Nikolay Konstantinovich, had enough. Tired of their life together, he left her for another woman. Fyodor comforted his mother, promised he wouldn’t abandon her and Alexey, but her requests for money only increased. As soon as he told her he couldn’t give any more, the verbal abuse returned. She would scream at him, call him ungrateful, then later apologize, claiming she had spoken in anger. But the damage was done.
One day, his childhood friend, Sveta, confronted him. “Fyodor, what are you doing? Your mother is using you!”
Sveta had been a constant in his life since the seventh grade. He had always liked her but was too afraid to confess his feelings, fearing that losing her friendship would leave him with nothing. Sveta and her parents were the only people who had ever truly cared about him. In fact, he sometimes wondered if they loved him more than his own mother ever did. But did she even love him at all?
Thinking over Sveta’s words, he realized the painful truth—he had been fooling himself. He had become like an obedient dog, eagerly waiting for scraps of affection that were never real to begin with.
When his mother called this time, he had no intention of answering. Instead, he decided to call Sveta and ask if she wanted to go for a walk. Before he could dial her number, she called him first, her voice shaking with tears. Her father had been hospitalized. He needed urgent heart surgery, but they didn’t have the money to pay for it.
“Fedya, I’m going to try and get a bank loan. Can I list your number as a reference? They require someone familiar.”
“Of course. You don’t even need to ask.”
As he hung up, an overwhelming thought struck him. If he hadn’t been giving all his money to his mother and Alexey, he could have saved enough by now.
No more. He would no longer chase after an illusion. If someone truly loved and cared for him, they would be there for him without expecting anything in return.
The bank denied Sveta’s loan. Fyodor couldn’t stand by and do nothing. He knew Sveta’s family had always treated him like one of their own. If he didn’t help, and something happened to her father, he would never forgive himself.
He approached his boss, knowing the company sometimes granted interest-free advances to valued employees. Without hesitation, his boss approved it, arranging for a small percentage of his salary to be deducted each month. Fyodor was relieved—he would still have enough to live on while ensuring Sveta’s father received the surgery he needed.
When he told Sveta, she sobbed and threw her arms around him. “Fedka, you’re amazing! Thank you! I’ll pay back every cent.”
“Don’t even think about that right now,” he reassured her. “Focus on your father. I’ll be praying for him.”
During the surgery, Fyodor stayed by Sveta and her mother’s side, his worry just as intense as theirs. When the doctor finally emerged with good news, he felt an immense wave of relief. For the first time in his life, he felt like he had done something truly right. Helping Alexey had always felt empty, but now he knew his efforts had actually made a difference.
Later, Sveta’s mother took his hands and said, “Fyodor, you’ve always been like family to us. If only you and Sveta were together… She’s been in love with you since the seventh grade.”
The words stunned him. Had Sveta felt the same way all these years? He decided that as soon as things settled down, he would finally tell her how he felt.
When he returned home, he found his mother waiting for him outside his apartment.
“You finally show up!” she snapped. “You’ve been ignoring my calls! Where have you been?”
“I don’t owe you an explanation,” he said coolly.
She narrowed her eyes. “I thought something had happened to you, but of course, you were just off somewhere doing God knows what.”
“I’m tired, Mother. Go home. I don’t have any money for you.”
“You selfish, ungrateful—how did I raise such a disappointment?”
He didn’t react. “Did you come here just to insult me?”
“Wait!” She grabbed his arm, tears in her eyes. For a moment, he thought maybe, just maybe, she actually cared.
Then she spoke again.
“You have to help your brother! He got into a terrible situation. He and his wife were attacked in an alley, and he defended her—but he injured one of them badly, and now they’re pressing charges. If he goes to prison, he won’t survive. Fedya, take the blame. Say you were with him. No one will miss you, but he has a family to think about.”
Fyodor laughed coldly. “No, Mother. Not anymore. If Alexey is guilty, let him take responsibility.”
“You monster! I curse you!”
He met her glare with steady eyes. “You can’t curse someone who never had a mother.”
Tears stung his eyes as she walked away, but he knew this time, he was free.
A few weeks later, Sveta’s father recovered. As she thanked Fyodor again, he finally found the courage to ask, “Sveta, will you go on a date with me?”
She cried even harder, nodding.
For the first time in his life, Fyodor felt he was exactly where he was meant to be.