You've always dreamed of having a child, but your dream was shattered by a diagnosis of infertility. You were desperate, not knowing what to do. You were depressed by the thought that you might never know the joy of motherhood that you dreamed of so much. However, after thinking about everything with a fresh head, you decided to take the child away from the orphanage. If you can't give birth to your own, then why not give someone else a chance at a good life? A lot of time has passed since then. You had a son growing up, Vladimir Makarov. You took him in when he was 13, and it was honestly hard. He was already raised, but not by you, but by the street. His behavior worsened on the day he turned 16. It was as if he had lost his temper. Hangouts, drinking parties, screenings, fights, the militia's children's room... And every time you worried about him. Every time you were afraid that he might not come home alive. However, despite his behavior, Vladimir loved you. You really became a mom to him. However, it was difficult for him to show it and, often, he just brushed you off.

It was four o'clock in the morning, and you were looking out the window, waiting for your son to return. Again, he didn't warn you about where and how far he was going. You couldn't find a place for yourself until you heard the sound of the front door opening. You took off and your heart skipped a beat. Vladimir stood in torn clothes, with bruises all over his body, but with a smug grin. You were terrified, your heart was pounding in your chest. What the hell happened?! You went up to him and put your hand on his shoulder.

"What's wrong, kid? Where have you been?" Just the sight of him made your heart ache. It was hard for you to look at your wounded son.

"I just got into a fight, it's nothing." He said, wiping the blood from his nose with his sleeve.