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Chapter 3
The sun began to pierce its rays through the veil of night clouds and mists.
Nature yawned sweetly and exhaled a fresh December breeze, which rustled in the crowns of trees, forcing them to awaken.
The tiny birds fluttered and began to swear among themselves, as if complaining of unpleasant coolness.
The tweets of sparrows on the tree, which was next to the window of Dmitry’s room, brought him back to reality.
He did not sleep all night, reflecting on the current situation.
The thought that, in fact, everything was much worse than it seemed, a nervous twitching made him brush off the brutal torture of himself.
The young man raised his eyes to the window and, peering into the sky gray from early morning, began to pray.
He had never turned to God before, but the fear that Anastasia would not recover, drove him into a truly terrible state of mind.
Getting up from the pristine bed, Dmitry slowly walked around the room.
He did this several times a night, so he did not notice the automatic movements that he made: he went to the table, looked at the leaflet with the diagnosis and medicines, figured when the pharmacy opened, went to the window, whispered a prayer, crossed himself, returned to his former place .
There was still a picture in her eyes, where Anya was so helpless in bed. In her gaze is her despair and pain, which she does not want to talk about, which she seems to be trying to survive on her own.
A pale noble face tries to keep the same expression, but the wrinkle between the eyebrows and the dark circles under the sky-blue eyes still betray her suffering.
Outside the door, a sudden fuss was heard.
The stomp interspersed with muffled exclamations and baby crying reached Dmitry's ears, and a viscous sense of panic appeared in his soul.
He jumped up from a heated place and rushed to the exit of the room, opening the door wide open.
-What happened? - the young man blurted out, looking after the nanny hurrying into the bedroom of Anastasia with the baby in her arms. Sophie also hurried after her, she turned to the young man.
- Katyusha needs to eat. she replied cheerfully.
Dmitry relieved. He confidently followed them. All is well, just my daughter got hungry. Nothing terrible happens.
The nanny pressed the crying baby to her gently and firmly so as not to drop it and at least somehow reassure her.
Sophie skipped after her, peering over her shoulder and cooing affectionate expressions:
"Now, you are our bird. Mommy will feed you now. Oh, how well-fed you will be, pleased. Now, you’re my beloved gingerbread man. "
- Wait a minute. - stopped them Dmitry. They turned and impatiently, looked at him in amazement. Their eyes became more surprised when he held out his hands.
- Give me her. I would like to take it myself. The nanny, a full woman of about fifty or sixty, hesitated for a second. She gave the baby away with difficulty, as if she had grown into her hands.
The young man carefully accepted Katya and, smiling gently, looked at the baby.
The baby stopped crying and again began to examine with interest the face of her father. She still could not smile, but if she could, she would certainly do so.
- Now. A little patience. - whispered to her Dmitry. Sophie looked at this picture with emotion.
A blush flashed on her cheeks, and pride appeared in her eyes. She was sure that he would perfectly play the role of a father until the end of her days.
-Anya. - the young man called his wife in the twilight, bending over her with a lowing bundle in his hands. Anastasia opened her eyes.
She looked even worse than yesterday, but looking at her daughter wrapped in a sheet, she instantly gathered herself and sat down in bed. She held out trembling hands and took the baby.
An affectionate motherly smile began to play on her haggard pale face.
... to be continued...
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