Vitaly Settles Down at His Desk with a Laptop and a Cup of Coffee to Finish Some Work—Suddenly, an Unknown Number Calls: “Are You Vitaly Dmitrievich? This Is the Maternity Hospital. Do You Know Anna Izotova?”—A Shocking Death, a Daughter He Never Knew About, and a Life-Changing Decision at the Savelovsky Maternity Ward

Friday, 18th May

I settled into my study laptop at the ready, a mug of Yorkshire tea by my side intent on finishing off some work before the weekend really began. Thats when my mobile vibrated, displaying an unknown number.

Hello, David speaking, I answered, already a bit wary.

Is this David Thompson? An elderly mans voice, polite but solemn, came through the line. Im calling from St. Marys Maternity Hospital. Do you know a Miss Emily Turner?

I frowned, racking my brains. Emily Turner? No, Im afraid that name doesnt ring a bell. May I ask what this is about?

The man paused, the silence stretching a little too long. Emily passed away yesterday during childbirth. Weve contacted her mother and she told us youre the father of the child. His words landed heavily, leaving me bewildered.

Father of? I I dont understand. Ive never met this Emily Turner. Is this some kind of mistake?

He spoke more slowly, as if each word were a verdict. She had a baby girl yesterday. And if youre David Edward Thompson, youre listed as the father. Well need you to come into the hospital tomorrow. There are decisions to be made.

My mind whirled uncontrollably. What sort of decisions? I asked, but he simply told me to come in and ask for Dr. Nicholas Porter, and then ended the call.

Phone still in hand, I tried to process what Id heard.

Emily Who on earth is Emily? I muttered, pacing the lounge. This must be a misunderstanding

I tried to think logically, but could feel my nerves waver. Nine months thats how long pregnancies last, isnt it? Its May now, so that puts me in September last year. What happened in September?

My gaze landed on my forgotten tea, now gone cold. In September ah, right. Brighton. Two weeks by the sea for work. Suddenly, a face surfaced in my memory a blonde, blue-eyed girl I met by the Brighton Pier. Emily.

I didnt remember much more. I hadnt exactly kept track of anyone I met while travelling. Ive never been married forty years old and quite content on my own. Id never wanted children, never even considered it. My life was just the way I liked it. Besides, I barely knew Emily.

Yet now, apparently, she was gone. So young. Early twenties at most. The thought jarred me. In the silence that followed, a knot Id never felt before took hold just below my ribs. A mixture of confusion, pity, maybe even regret.

A child The word felt foreign, as if spoken by someone else. Her mother should take the baby shes the grandmother, after all. And whos to say this baby is even mine?

As I finally resolved to meet Dr. Porter the next day and sign whatever forms necessary to put this all to rest, I found that settling down to sleep was impossible. My thoughts spun relentlessly, and something deep within refused to let me forget.

That night, flashes of memory flickered. Emilys laughter as she ran across the beach, the way she looked at me with pure affection, her playful teasing about my terrible dance moves. Shed been so alive, and now The weight of it all pressed down, and for the first time in years, I found my eyes stinging.

The next morning, I made my way to St. Marys feeling utterly unprepared. Dr. Porter met me in the corridora tall, dignified man in his sixties. I barely listened to his words, distracted by the hush of the hospital and my own racing thoughts.

Do you want to see your daughter? he asked softly.

I shook my head, focusing instead on finding Emilys mother. She was seated on a bench just outside the ward, a frail woman draped in a black scarf, face ravaged by grief.

Hello, I managed, my voice barely a whisper.

She looked up at me, her eyes echoing the pain Id been trying to ignore.

My names Helen. Helen Turner. Im Emilys mother, she said quietly.

Im David, I replied, fumbling for words. Im very sorry

She told me about you, you know. Now shell never tell me anything again, Helen said, tears spilling over.

I swallowed hard, unsure what to do or say.

Finally, Helen dabbed her eyes and pleaded, Please dont turn your back on the baby. I cant bear the idea of my granddaughter going into a care home. Im not strong enough to raise her alone. I have a heart condition All I ask is that you acknowledge her as your daughter; Ill bring her up myself, I promise. You wont be troubled.

I thought she looked hardly older than me, this woman asking for the impossible.

Come on then, I said, leading her back to Dr. Porters office.

How do I do this? I asked nervously. How do I officially recognise the child?

DNA test, David. Dr. Porter nodded. Also, have you chosen a name for your daughter?

Again I hesitated, feeling caught off guard. A name… I hadnt thought

Would you like to meet her? the doctor offered gently.

Again I shook my head, voice barely audible. Not yet.

Within a few days, the test results confirmed that the child was indeed mine. The hospital handled the papers, and the arrangements for Helen to raise her granddaughter were set. I told myself Id send money, buy whatever was needed, but nothing more. That seemed manageable.

Then, on the day the baby was to be discharged, I saw a nurse walking towards us with a tiny bundle wrapped in an elaborate, frilly pink blanket. My heart thudded in my chest as Helen reached out, then turned to me and asked, Would you like to meet her?

Before I could answer, Dr. Porter called Helen into his office. With barely a thought, Helen handed the baby to me. Suddenly, I was holding my daughter.

She was warm and so small, smelling of milk and baby powder. Then she made a sound a squeaky little mew, like a kitten before bursting into hearty cries. Surprised, I glanced down and was struck by her resemblance to me. It was as though I was looking at my own reflection as a baby.

My knees gave way and I sank into a nearby chair, gently rocking her out of instinct. She quietened, big blue eyes meeting mine, then gave what looked suspiciously like a smile.

Helen returned just then. Let me take her back, she said softly, reaching out.

No, its all right. Ill look after her, I blurted out, surprising myself. She just smiled at me.

I couldnt help but grin with a strange, fierce pride. Lets go home, Helen, I said quietly. All three of us, together.

Today, as I write this, I realise life can turn in a moment, and you never really know who you are until youre suddenly needed by someone small and helpless. Maybe the lesson is that love, however unexpected, is sometimes enough to change even the most stubborn heart.