Kristina woke up at the crack of dawn this morning; she needed to hurry to the store while the bread was still fresh and before her favorite cheese curds, which she thought were perfect for tea, were snapped up. She quickly pulled on jeans, a sweater, and her old comfortable sneakers. Outside, it was still grayish; the summer sunrise had just begun over the high-rises of their neighborhood.
Approaching the front door, she noticed her nephew’s toys scattered on the hallway floor: a small car with worn-out wheels, a plastic tractor without a scoop—they were left from yesterday when her friend visited with her son. Kristina smiled, gathering them onto the shelf. “It’s nice that the house sometimes echoes with children’s laughter, even if it’s not mine,” she thought. She didn’t have children of her own yet: either her career or other reasons got in the way. And she didn’t have a husband—she had recently broken up with a boyfriend who turned out to be “not ready” for a serious relationship.
She quickly tossed her wallet and phone into her bag and stepped onto the landing. The warm air and sunlight promised a magnificent summer day. She took the elevator down, stepped into the courtyard—there were already grandmothers bustling about, and two students were smoking on a bench. “Everything seems as usual,” Kristina thought. She nodded to a neighbor:
“Good morning, Aunt Valya!”
“Hello, Kristina, up early?”
“Yes, I’m off to get some bread.”
The neighbor smiled, adjusting her headscarf. Kristina headed to the nearest “Pyaterochka,” fortunately just a five-minute walk away. After shopping, she had a full bag: bread, cheese, yogurts, fruits, a couple of cans of canned peas (just in case for a salad). As she walked to the checkout, she estimated that she should be out of the store in about 20 minutes. Indeed, she encountered a small queue but quickly paid.
Finally, she left the store and walked back along the cozy courtyard path. She felt warm inside, as a day off lay ahead—she could take care of household chores without rushing.
However, approaching her apartment building, she noticed something strange: in the entrance, where a glass porch led, a woman with a child in her arms was struggling, and a little further away, a man was arguing with someone on the phone. Kristina walked past them—the people were unfamiliar to her, perhaps someone’s guests.
She was about to enter the entrance when she suddenly heard a muffled moan or cry echoing somewhere below the stairs. A child’s? She stopped and listened. The crying was barely audible, a half-tone, as if very weak. Her heart skipped a beat: “Could someone have dropped a child?” She took a few steps inside, leaning against the cool wall.
“Do you hear crying?” she asked the random people who entered behind her.
“No, I don’t hear anything,” one man waved her off.
Another woman shook her head: “Probably just your imagination…”
But Kristina was sure she had heard something real. She decided to follow the sound. Walking a bit deeper into the nook between the garbage chute and the stairwell, where old furniture was usually stored, she noticed a small bundle. And from there, definitely—a faint child’s voice, crying. Her heart froze: “Could it be a baby?” She bent down, carefully lifted the edge of the blanket. What she saw shocked her to the core: an infant, a tiny one, maybe a week old, no more. Pale cheeks, lips blue from cold or—God forbid—malnutrition.
“Oh my God,” she exhaled, feeling her hands tremble.
The baby was wrapped haphazardly in some old thin blanket, without even a proper diaper. “This is just abandoned!” flashed through her mind. “Who could do such a thing?!”
Kristina felt horror and pity in her heart. She immediately dialed 911:
“Hello, ambulance? I… I found a baby in the entrance. It looks like he was abandoned. Please come quickly, the address is…”
The operator clarified the details, and Kristina tried to contain her panic: “Yes, alive, but crying…” After finishing, she crouched down in front of the bundle:
“Shh, little one,” she whispered, though the baby could barely hear. “I won’t hurt you, everything will be okay…”
The infant shuddered, fell silent for a second, as if sensing the warmth of her voice. “Boy or girl?” she wondered. Lifting the blanket, Kristina saw that it was a boy. Her heart ached with the realization: completely alone, without a name, without a mother.
Neighbors passed by; some, seeing the scene, paused, curiously peering in. Kristina exclaimed:
“Guys, help, someone take off their jacket to cover him, it’s drafty here!”
A young woman, about 18, pulled off her windbreaker:
“Wow… What a tiny thing. Here, take this, cover him.”
“Thank you,” Kristina nodded.
While waiting for the ambulance, an elderly woman ran up, throwing up her hands: “Oh, monsters! Who abandons a child!” Her exclamations seemed to panic the already nervous Kristina. A man in a tracksuit suggested: “Maybe take him to an apartment?” But Kristina feared unnecessary movements: “What if the doctors need to examine him on the spot.”
After 15 minutes, a siren wailed in the courtyard. Paramedics with a stretcher hurried to the entrance. Kristina was already trembling, holding the baby close to warm him. A middle-aged female doctor touched him and raised her eyebrows:
“Alive, but weak. Needs to go to the hospital immediately. Are you the mother?”
“No, I found him…” she swallowed the lump in her throat. “Looks like he was abandoned.”
“Understood,” the doctor pressed her lips together. “Alright, we’ll take him. Give us your contact information; the police will contact you later.”
Kristina, automatically dictating her phone number and passport details, felt her heart pounding. The medics wrapped the baby in a special warm blanket, placed him on the small stretcher. “A boy,” the doctor murmured, “such a tiny one.”
Kristina followed them outside, watching as the ambulance drove away. A couple of neighbors nearby continued to gasp: “Can you believe it! What kind of mother does that? Horrible!”
She stood with her hands down, forgetting even about the bag with bread and cheese curds she had left somewhere in the entrance. In her mind echoed: “Can people really do that? Abandon a newborn in the entrance like trash…”
That same day, Kristina couldn’t return to her usual routine. Coming home, she placed the bag of groceries in the kitchen but didn’t have the strength to cook. She called her friend Oksana:
“Oksana, can you imagine… I found a baby today. Right in the entrance!”
“What?” Oksana gasped. “Are you serious? How could that happen?!”
Kristina incoherently recounted all the details.
Oksana was in shock, offered: “Maybe I should come over? Are you okay?”—”I guess so, but my head is spinning. Come over, I’d be glad.”
Around six in the evening, Oksana arrived with a cake; they poured tea.