went out on the street, determined to carry out my plan. The first man I met was a man in worn clothes, sitting right on the sidewalk. In his hands, he had a bun, which he ate as if it were the most important meal of his life.
“How angry he’s going to be when he finds out I chose a homeless man over him,” I thought, a bitter smile on my face.

And indeed, my husband was furious when he found out everything. Our marriage fell apart completely, and we divorced. But soon I discovered I was pregnant.

The father was that same man from the street.

At first, I thought about getting rid of the child. I couldn’t imagine raising a “homeless man’s son.” But gradually something changed inside me. A strange feeling grew in my chest — as if this child had been given to me by fate. I decided to keep him.

In the room, I saw a familiar face. It was him. The same man. But not dirty and exhausted — in a white coat, composed and confident.