A storm was raging outside. The wind was beating against the windows, snow was falling like a solid wall, the roads were buried so badly that you couldn’t take a single step.
When someone knocked on the door, the woman flinched — no one comes here on a night like this.
She carefully approached the door, opened it slightly — and saw a man about forty, in a thin jacket, sleeves soaked through.
In his hands he held an infant wrapped in a blanket.
— I’m sorry, — he said quietly, — my car got stuck on the highway. I’m alone with the baby, I can’t get to the city. Could we stay with you at least until morning?
The woman hesitated, but after looking at the baby, she softened immediately.
— Of course, come in. In weather like this you can’t stay outside.
She lit the stove, put the kettle on, warmed some milk.
— And where is the child’s mother? — she asked carefully.
The man looked away.
— She’s gone. I’m alone with him now.
He didn’t talk much, but there was no malice in his eyes — only exhaustion.
The woman made them a bed by the stove, brought an old blanket.
— Rest. In the morning the storm will calm down — you’ll be able to go.
But in the morning the woman discovered something terrible.
Continuation in the first comment.

In the morning she woke up from the silence.
The house was cold, the stove had long gone out.
On the table stood an empty mug and a note lay there:
“Thank you for the warmth and kindness. Forgive me for leaving without saying goodbye.”
The woman smiled — clearly, he didn’t want to wake her.
But when she looked out the window, she noticed that footprints led to the gate —
small ones, as if from children’s boots, and large ones, men’s.
The footprints led to the road and disappeared in the snowdrifts.
She was about to clear the table when her gaze caught the turned-on TV.
The news was on the screen. The presenter spoke in an agitated voice:
“Police continue searching for the man suspected of kidnapping an infant from the city hospital.
According to preliminary data, he may be dangerous.
Together with the child, he escaped in a dark-colored vehicle.
We ask everyone who has seen him to immediately report it to the police.
His photo is on the screen.”
The woman froze.
In the photo — him.
The very same man who had sat in her kitchen the day before, drank tea, nodded when she poured milk for the baby.
Her heart pounded. Her hands began to tremble.
“The child’s mother begs to return the baby alive.
She is certain the man headed out of town, in the northern direction…”
The woman ran to the window in panic.
The footprints were still visible — disappearing into the white emptiness.
She stood there, unable to move, and only now felt how the cold crept under her skin.