The father left—walking out on his partner and their young child. It’s a story we’ve all heard before, so common that most people hardly react anymore. Some even joke about it: “He went to buy bread and never came back.”
At times, these fathers are turned into heroes in stories—maybe they’re sailors, astronauts, or secret agents. Kids often imagine these things because it’s easier than accepting the painful truth: he left because he chose to. Pretending there was a good reason hurts less than feeling unwanted.
But what happens when it’s the mother who leaves?
That’s the reality Alexey Dultsev had to face.
One morning, he sat at the kitchen table, head in his hands, listening to the ticking clock. He was worn out, both in body and spirit. Across from him sat his three-year-old daughter, Karina.
With her green eyes, rosy cheeks, and curly hair, she looked like a little doll. She poked at her porridge, eyes glued to the cartoons in the background.
Karina wasn’t his daughter by blood—she was his stepdaughter. Her real mother, Zhenya, had left.
“Where’s Mommy?” Karina asked with a pout. “Why does she get to stay home and I have to go to kindergarten?”
Alexey wasn’t ready for the question. He stumbled over his thoughts.
“She… had something important to take care of,” he said, turning to the sink to keep busy. “Maybe you’ll stay with Grandma Tamara for a bit.”
Karina’s smile faded. “I don’t want to go! It’s scary there. Grandma says a monster eats bad kids. She yells at me. She calls me a ‘child of sin’…”
Alexey flinched at the name Tamara—Zhenya’s mother. She was strict, cold, and deeply religious—not the warm, loving kind of grandmother. But he didn’t have any other choice. That day, he drove Karina to her grandmother’s village.
As soon as they arrived, Karina clung to him, crying.
“Please don’t leave me!”
Tamara grabbed the girl and scolded her harshly. As Alexey drove away, he looked in the rearview mirror—and saw Karina running after the car, tears streaming down her face.
“Daddy! Don’t go!”
He hit the brakes, jumped out, and picked her up in his arms.
“I’m sorry. I’m not leaving you. Ever.”
Tamara yelled after him, but Alexey didn’t look back. He took Karina home.
He had met Zhenya about a year and a half earlier—a beautiful woman who easily drew people in. At first, she didn’t mention she had a daughter. Karina was living in the countryside with her grandmother. Zhenya only brought it up once their relationship became serious.
Alexey came from a simple background—his dad was a plasterer, and he had worked his way up through different construction jobs.
By his mid-twenties, he was doing well—he co-owned a small renovation business. When he learned about Karina, he was surprised but didn’t hesitate. He insisted they bring her to live with them in the city.
Zhenya agreed, though she wasn’t thrilled. She said daycare would be better for the child. They eventually got married, and Alexey officially adopted Karina. For a little while, things felt normal.
Then everything fell apart.
His business partner, Danil Svitov, had been laundering money. When the authorities caught on, Danil fled the country—Zhenya went with him.
She left only a note: “I don’t want this life. Give Karina back to her grandma.”
Alexey was heartbroken—not for himself, but for Karina. Her mother didn’t just walk away—she threw her away.
But Alexey stayed. He raised Karina alone, even as he lost his company and good name.
He took any job he could find. He learned how to braid her hair, cook the meals she loved, and help her through her nightmares.
He wasn’t just pretending to be a father—he became one.
By the time Karina turned eight, she was full of life, smart, and head over heels for K-pop, with a short haircut that matched her bold personality.
Alexey knew all of Karina’s favorite stars. He swapped his old rock playlists for BTS, stopped cooking liver and onions—her most hated dish—and became a lasagna expert.
But when she turned ten, everything changed.
One cold morning, Karina looked unwell at school. During gym, a boy joked, “Karina’s pregnant!” The other kids laughed, and she broke down crying. A teacher pulled her aside.
“I kissed a boy once,” she sobbed. “His sister said that’s how you get pregnant. My belly’s getting big… and today there was blood…”
The teacher quickly understood—Karina had started her first period.
She was terrified. No one had ever told her what to expect.
Alexey rushed to the school. Overwhelmed, he said, “I thought we had more time. She’s still my little girl…”
At the hospital, doctors confirmed it was puberty—but also found a non-cancerous ovarian tumor. It explained her swollen belly and early development. She needed surgery.
Thankfully, the surgery was a success.
Alexey took time off work to be with her—reading stories, playing games, and staying close through her recovery.
One evening, her teacher, Kristina, visited with books and kind words—and slowly became a regular part of their lives.
She helped guide Alexey through the challenges of raising a girl—how to talk about periods, how to shop for clothes, and when to simply listen.
Over time, Kristina and Alexey grew close. They eventually got married.
Karina now had two parents. Not connected by blood, but by love.
The home that once felt heavy with sadness became full of warmth, laughter, and safety.
And Alexey came to see that this—this love, this family—was the greatest life he could have ever hoped for.