[The Decision to Pursue IVF]
On a serene spring morning in Oslo, sunlight gently streamed through the curtains, warming the cozy living room. Krista sat on the sofa, hands clasped, her gaze lost in the scenery outside. Olga entered, carrying two steaming cups of coffee. Placing one in front of Krista, she sat beside her.
_ You seem pensive this morning.
Olga said, her gentle blue eyes fixed on her lover.
Krista sipped her coffee before turning to face Olga.
_ I've been thinking a lot, Olga. About our plans.
Olga tilted her head, eyebrows slightly raised.
_ And what have you decided?
Setting her cup down, Krista took Olga’s hand.
_ I want to be the one to carry our child.
Olga’s surprise was brief, quickly replaced by calm understanding.
_ Are you sure, Camellia? Pregnancy isn’t easy, especially with your medical history. I only want you to feel safe and comfortable.
Krista tightened her grip on Olga’s hand, her green eyes resolute.
_ I’ve thought this through. I know it will be hard, but I want to experience this journey – from the moment the baby is just a tiny life inside me until the day it’s born.
After a moment of silence, Olga gently cupped Krista’s cheek.
_ You know, Camellia? I love how brave you always are. But please remember, we can do this differently if you're not ready. I don’t want you to feel like you have to do this for me.
Krista smiled softly and rested her head on Olga’s shoulder.
_ I’m not doing this for you, Olga. I’m doing it for myself. I want to conquer my fears and prove that I’m strong enough to be a mother. And you’re the only one I want by my side on this journey.
===
[Olga’s Journal]
"Today, Krista told me she wants to carry our child. I can’t say I’m not worried – about her health, about the pressures this journey might bring. But looking into her determined eyes, I know this isn’t a rash decision. She’s ready to face it all, and I’ll be by her side – not just as her lover but as her teammate."
[The IVF Journey Begins]
A faint winter morning light filtered through the small kitchen’s windows, casting a gentle golden hue. Krista sat at the dining table, lightly stirring her tea, eyes fixed on the snow falling outside. On the table lay a neat stack of IVF paperwork, along with a pen Olga had carefully placed for them to sign together.
_ Camellia, have you had breakfast yet?
Olga’s warm voice pulled Krista from her thoughts. Krista turned to see Olga approaching with a plate of toast in hand.
_ Not yet. I’m just… a little nervous.
Placing the toast on the table, Olga sat beside Krista.
_ It’s normal to be nervous. This is a big step, but we’re doing it together. I’m here.
Krista smiled faintly, though her green eyes still held a hint of unease.
_ You always make everything seem so simple.
_ Only because you’re overcomplicating it.
Olga teased, and their shared laughter lightened the weight in the room.
That same day, Krista and Olga attended their first health checkup at the Oslo hospital, its bright lights and sterile air adding to Krista’s unease. Olga held her hand tightly as they stepped into the clinic.
The doctor, a middle-aged woman with a kind smile, began explaining the preliminary tests.
_ We’ll conduct a full health assessment for both of you, from hormones and uterine health to egg and sperm quality. This process requires patience.
She reassured, her calming gaze meeting Krista’s.
Krista nodded, trying to steady herself.
_ I just… worry about my health. I’ve had a history of…
The doctor interrupted gently.
_ I’ve reviewed your records, Krista. The past doesn’t define everything. What matters is the present and your determination.
Olga’s reassuring black eyes met Krista’s as she squeezed her hand.
_ We’ll get through this, Camellia.
===
[Olga’s Journal: Krista's confession]
"Today, we started our IVF journey. The first steps were just health assessments, but each one carried its own blend of worry and hope. I know this won’t be easy, especially given my own struggles with depression in the past. But with my lover beside me, I feel a little stronger. She always knows how to make me laugh and believe that everything will be okay. I don’t know what the future holds, but for now, we’re taking this step together."
[The First Days]
The initial days of IVF were far from easy. Krista had to administer daily hormone injections, leaving her frequently tired and irritable.
One evening, as Olga carefully prepared the injection, Krista quipped.
_ Are you sure you weren’t a nurse in a past life?
Olga laughed.
_ If I were, I wouldn’t need to Google the instructions every time I prepared the medication.
Their shared laughter eased some of the tension, offering Krista a moment of lightness amidst the challenges.
Later that night, as they lay side by side in bed, Olga gently stroked Krista’s fiery red hair.
_ What do you think about the future, Camellia?
Olga whispered, her voice soft in the stillness.
Krista smiled, her eyes reflecting hope.
_ I think about peaceful mornings, waking up to our child’s laughter. I think about Christmases spent decorating the tree together and the sound of little footsteps running through the house.
Olga tightened her embrace, pressing a kiss to Krista’s forehead.
_ We’ll have all of that. No matter the challenges, I believe we’ll overcome them. Together.
===
[Olga's Journal]
"Krista is embarking on a journey she knows will be arduous. But within her, I see resilience and a spark of hope. Each day, I love her more – not just for her courage, but for how she always strives for our future."
[Unsuccessful IVF]
Krista sat quietly in a chair near the window, the dim winter afternoon light of Oslo streaming through the curtains, casting a melancholic glow on her face. In her hand, she still held the results from the doctor—a cold and clinical confirmation that the IVF procedure had failed.
Olga stood behind her, her worried gaze fixed on her partner. More than anyone, she understood the depths of Krista’s disappointment and the self-recrimination she carried.
_ Camellia, don’t torture yourself.
Olga gently walked over and sat beside Krista, who didn’t lift her head, her green eyes brimming with tears.
_ Olga, I’ve done everything wrong. I wasn’t good enough. I… failed.
Olga clasped Krista’s hand tightly, as if to lend her strength.
_ You haven’t failed, Krista. IVF doesn’t always work on the first try. This isn’t your fault.
_ But I’m the one carrying the baby!
Krista sobbed, her voice choked.
_ I was supposed to protect our child, but I couldn’t. I’ve let you down.
_ No, never!
Olga’s voice was firm.
_ I’m proud of you, Camellia. I’m proud of your courage, of how hard you’ve tried. We knew this journey wouldn’t be easy, but we agreed to face it together. Neither of us bears this burden alone.
Krista finally looked up, her tear-streaked face meeting Olga’s.
_ But what if I can’t… What if I’m not capable of being a mother?
Olga pressed a tender kiss to Krista’s forehead, a gesture of reassurance.
_ You have nothing to prove to me, Krista. I love you for who you are, not for your ability to carry a child. Our family isn’t defined by the outcome of one IVF attempt. It’s defined by the love and patience we share.
===
[Olga’s Journal]
"Today was a hard day. Krista received the news that our first IVF attempt was unsuccessful. I could see the pain in her eyes—the pain she tried to hide so I wouldn’t feel sad. But I know Krista blames herself.
I held her tightly, telling her we’d get through this together. Yet deep inside, I felt helpless too. I can only hope that, with time, she’ll realize her worth isn’t tied to things beyond her control."
In the days that followed, Krista grew quieter. She stopped playing the piano and no longer joined Olga in their music sessions. She spent hours sitting alone, staring out the window, as if searching for an answer she couldn’t find.
One evening, when Olga returned home from an orchestra rehearsal, she found Krista cleaning the kitchen—something Krista rarely did. But as Olga looked closer, she noticed Krista’s trembling hands. Concerned, Olga approached her.
_ What are you doing?
_ I just wanted to do something useful.
Krista murmured softly.
_ I don’t want to be a burden to you.
_ You’re never a burden, Krista.
Olga replied, taking her hand.
_ We’ll get through this. But I need you to trust yourself, the way you’ve always trusted me.
Krista and Olga decided to take a break before continuing their IVF journey. Olga convinced Krista to resume therapy, helping her confront her fears and self-blame.
One day, after a therapy session, Krista said to Olga:
_ The therapist said I need to learn to accept that not everything is within my control. But you know what, Olga? That’s harder than I thought.
_ You don’t have to do it alone, Camellia.
Olga said, wrapping her arms around Krista.
_ We’ll learn to accept it together.
[A Guiding Lullaby]
In the pitch-black expanse of her mind, Krista stood in a desolate field, the icy wind tangling her fiery red hair. In her arms, she cradled a small, warm child with red hair like hers and bright green eyes that sparkled like emeralds.
_ Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.
Krista whispered, her voice trembling but determined.
But around her, the wind grew fiercer, howling accusations she couldn’t silence. The ground beneath her cracked, splitting apart as if to swallow her whole.
_ I won’t let you go!
Krista screamed, clutching the child tightly. But when she looked down, the child began to fade. The tiny hands gripping her shirt grew translucent.
_ No! No! Don’t leave me!
Krista’s panicked cries echoed as tears streamed down her face. She tried desperately to hold on, but the child slipped away like sand through her fingers.
_ I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…
Her sobs rang out in the emptiness until she realized she was alone. The child was gone, leaving only her empty hands and a heart that felt crushed.
"Krista…"
A voice called out, though no one was there. Only darkness and cold surrounded her.
She collapsed, clawing at the dirt as if to find any trace of the child. But there was nothing.
Krista jolted awake, her breathing ragged, her back damp with cold sweat. The faint glow of the nightlight reminded her she was in her bedroom with Olga, not in that nightmare. Yet the fear lingered, heavy on her chest, as if the dream hadn’t let go.
Olga stirred immediately, sensing Krista’s unease.
_ Camellia, what’s wrong?
Olga asked, her voice hoarse from sleep. But Krista didn’t respond. She hugged her knees, curling into herself like a child seeking safety.
_ Krista, did you have a nightmare?
Olga gently asked, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.
_ I… I dreamed about the baby… and I couldn’t protect it. It disappeared right in my arms, Olga. I couldn’t do anything.
Hearing her partner’s broken voice, Olga tightened her embrace, trying to calm Krista’s trembling.
_ It was just a dream, Krista. Only a dream. I’m here, and we’ll face everything together.
But Krista shook her head, tears streaming down her face.
_ What if… what if it’s true? What if I can’t be a mother? What if I end up hurting our child the way I was hurt?
Olga cupped Krista’s face, forcing her to meet her eyes.
_ Camellia, you don’t have to be perfect to be a mother. I know you’ll love our child with everything you have, and that’s enough. But first, you need to forgive yourself. You’re no longer defined by your past.
Krista remained silent, her eyes still clouded with pain.
_ But what if I fail…
_ Then we’ll face failure together, just as we’ve always stood by each other.
Olga replied firmly, holding Krista close as she cried like a child in her arms.
===
[Olga’s Journal]
"Tonight, Krista woke up from a nightmare. She dreamed she couldn’t protect our child, that the baby disappeared in her arms.
She cried, and the pain in her eyes cut through me. I wanted to take all her fears and carry them for her, but I know I can’t. The only thing I can do is stay by her side and remind her she’s not alone in this.
Krista is the strongest person I know, yet she’s also the hardest on herself. I don’t know what challenges motherhood will bring, but I know one thing for certain—with the love Krista has for our child, she’ll overcome anything."
It took a long while before Olga finally felt Krista relax in her arms. Exhausted from the tears and confessions of the night, Krista leaned against Olga’s chest, her breathing uneven, as if the nightmare still lingered.
Olga softly ran her fingers through Krista’s fiery red hair, feeling the strands slide between her fingertips. An idea struck her, and she began to hum a lullaby, her deep, warm voice filling the quiet room.
_ "Спи, мой маленький ангел, спи,
Мир уснул в тишине ночи.
Пусть звёзды тебя берегут,
И сны твои будут добры и чудны."
(Sleep, my little angel, sleep,
The world has drifted into the silence of night.
Let the stars watch over you,
And may your dreams be kind and wonderful.)
Olga’s gentle singing flowed like a stream, easing the ache in Krista’s soul. Though she didn’t understand all the words, Krista felt comforted by the unspoken tenderness Olga conveyed.
_ Olga…
Krista whispered weakly.
_ Shh, go to sleep. You’ve been through enough tonight.
Olga replied softly, continuing to sing, her arms never leaving Krista.
Hearing this, Krista finally relaxed, her breathing steadying as she drifted into sleep. Even as Krista slept, Olga kept singing, determined to shield her partner from any nightmare that dared return.
===
[Olga's Diary]
“Tonight, I sang for Krista. I don't know if she understood the lyrics, but I believe her heart felt the meaning.
Watching her sleep peacefully in my arms, I silently promised myself that I would never let fear harm her again.”
[IVF – Pausing to Heal]
The small living room of their home in Oslo was bathed in soft, golden light from the floor lamp in the corner. Krista Taylor sat on the sofa, her fingers idly brushing the rim of a steaming chamomile tea cup. Across from her, Olga Metkina sat, her dark eyes tenderly watching her partner, as though waiting for Krista to speak.
_ Olga…
Krista’s voice, hoarse from prolonged silence, broke the stillness.
_ We need to talk about this.
Olga tilted her head slightly, her eyes filled with concern.
_ About the IVF?
Krista nodded, her green eyes avoiding Olga’s.
_ I’ve thought about it a lot—about pregnancy, about having a child—and I’ve realized that I’m not ready.
_ Not ready?
Olga repeated softly, without a hint of judgment in her voice.
_ I don’t want to lie to you, Olga.
Krista tightened her grip on the tea cup.
_ I’ve tried convincing myself that I’m okay, that I can handle it. But the truth is… I haven’t fully overcome my depression. I still have bad days, sleepless nights, and… I don’t want to take the risk. A child deserves to be loved by a strong mother, not someone still fighting their own darkness.
Olga remained silent, her eyes glimmering with empathy as she listened intently to Krista’s every word.
_ I don’t want you to be burdened.
Krista continued, her voice breaking.
_ You are the light of my life, Olga. You deserve a perfect family. And if that means leaving me to find something better…
_ Krista, stop.
Olga interrupted, standing and moving to sit beside Krista. She took Krista’s hand in hers and gave it a reassuring squeeze.
_ You think I want a perfect family? I don’t need that. I just need you. My Camellia, you are my family.
Krista looked up at Olga, tears filling her eyes.
_ But aren’t you disappointed? I can’t give you what you want.
_ What I want is for you to be happy and true to yourself. I won’t force you to do something you’re not ready for. We can pause the IVF process. What matters most is your health and happiness. A child can wait, but I can’t bear to lose you.
Krista broke down, but this time, it wasn’t out of despair. She felt an overwhelming sense of comfort from Olga’s unwavering love. Leaning her head against Olga’s shoulder, she felt as though a heavy weight had been lifted from her chest.
_ Thank you.
Krista whispered.
_ Thank you for not giving up on me.
_ There’s no need to thank me.
Olga smiled, gently stroking Krista’s fiery red hair.
_ We’re a team, remember? And our team doesn’t need to rush. When the time comes, we’ll build our family together, the right way.
===
[Olga's Diary]
"Today, Krista courageously voiced what I knew she’d been holding back for weeks. She admitted that she isn’t ready for pregnancy, isn’t ready to be a mother.
I didn’t feel sad or disappointed. On the contrary, I felt proud. The fact that she can face herself and her deepest fears is a significant step in her healing journey.
We’ve decided to pause, not because we’ve failed, but because we want to give each other time. And I believe that, when the time is right, we will build our family together, in the most fulfilling way.”
[Starting Anew]
That afternoon, Olga decided to coax Krista into sitting by the piano in their living room.
_ Let’s play something.
Olga’s voice was gentle but firm.
_ I’m not sure I can still play well.
Krista sighed, letting her fingers hover over the piano keys without pressing them.
_ You don’t have to be perfect.
Olga replied, resting her cello on her shoulder.
_ You just need to play. I’ll follow your lead.
Krista glanced at Olga, worry flickering in her green eyes. But the patience and encouragement in Olga’s gaze convinced her. Placing her hands on the keys, she began to play the opening notes of a piece they once performed together.
The melody from the piano filled the room—not flawless, but brimming with emotion. Olga quickly joined in, her cello’s soothing tones supporting every note Krista played.
When the music ended, Krista turned to Olga.
_ It feels like… music is healing me, little by little.
_ It is, Camellia.
Olga said, placing the cello aside and taking Krista’s hands.
_ Music has never been a burden. It’s a part of you, and I believe it will always guide you back to yourself.
That winter morning in Oslo, gentle sunlight streamed through the windows, casting a serene glow across the room. Krista sat at the piano, her fingers resting lightly on the keys without pressing them. Behind her, Olga stood with her cello, her soft blue eyes watching her partner with quiet affection.
_ You don’t need to conduct an orchestra, Camellia.
Olga said, her voice warm like a flowing stream.
_ I don’t need you to be a great conductor. I just need you to be my Krista—the one who can sit here and play whatever melody she wants.
Krista looked down at the keys, a flicker of unease in her green eyes.
_ You don’t understand, Olga. I used to be a conductor, the one leading an entire orchestra. And now…
_ And now, all you need to lead are your own hands.
Olga interrupted, drawing a long, resonant note on her cello, the sound filling the room.
_ Music doesn’t judge you. Neither do I.
Krista took a deep breath and pressed a key, producing the first note. The melody started slow and hesitant, but gradually, it flowed more smoothly as she allowed herself to be immersed in the sound.
Olga accompanied her on the cello, drawing each note with care, like a patient guide. In that moment, words were unnecessary; their hearts beat in unison.
That evening, the two of them sat on the sofa, wrapped in a warm wool blanket, with a cup of hot cocoa in hand. Krista leaned on Olga’s shoulder, her voice soft yet sincere.
_ Olga, I think I need more time before returning to work. I want to make sure I’m truly ready.
_ I understand.
Olga replied, setting her cocoa down and wrapping her arms around Krista.
_ There’s no need to rush. The orchestra can wait, but your health and happiness are what matter most to me.
Krista gave a faint smile but then grew more serious.
_ But I don’t want to stay idle for too long. I want to come back, but not as a conductor constantly feeling pressured to prove something. I want my music to truly come from the heart.
_ And I believe you’ll achieve that.
Olga said, placing a gentle kiss on Krista’s fiery red hair.
_ Let’s take it one step at a time, okay? First, we’ll play music at home, then move to small rehearsals. And when you’re ready, I’ll always be there, right by your side.
Krista nodded, a glimmer of hope shining in her green eyes.
===
[Olga’s Journal]
"Today, for the first time in weeks, I saw Krista play the piano again. Her music was as beautiful as ever, though there was a bit of hesitation in the opening notes. I didn’t say it out loud, but my heart felt so full it nearly brought me to tears.
She’s still fighting her own battles, but every note she plays is a step forward, a way of asserting that she won’t let her illness consume her life. I’ll be here, day by day, to remind her that she’s not alone."
[In Silent Sunlight]
Krista began noticing the smaller details in life - soft morning light, the faint scent of coffee, the rustling leaves outside the window.
One day, as Olga played the cello in the living room, Krista sat on the sofa, her eyes half-closed.
_ What are you doing?
Olga asked, pausing mid-piece.
_ Listening to you play
Krista replied, her lips curving into a faint smile.
_ Your music… it always makes me feel at peace.
_ I play for you, Camellia. Every note is for you.
===
[Olga’s Journal]
"Today, I played the cello in the living room, as usual. But something was different.
Krista sat on the sofa, the afternoon light streaming through the window, making her red hair glow like fire. She wasn’t doing anything, just quietly leaning back, her eyes half-closed as if savoring every note.
When I stopped mid-piece and asked, 'What are you doing?' she answered simply, 'Listening to you play.'
Her lips curved into a faint smile—not a radiant one, but enough to make my heart pause. Krista said my music made her feel at peace.
I didn’t respond immediately, but one thought filled my mind: every note I play is for her.
When she smiled—that smile, oh God—it was so beautiful that I had to remind myself to breathe. It wasn’t just a smile; it was a sign that maybe, just maybe, everything would be okay. That in Krista’s world, once shrouded in darkness, light was slowly breaking through.
For moments like these, I could play forever. Not for a performance, not for an audience, but for the person sitting on that sofa—my Camellia.
Perhaps, out of all the music I’ve ever played, the most beautiful piece is this moment. Just the two of us, with music flowing softly in the sunlight."
[A Memorable Event]
After a long absence from the stage to focus on healing, Krista Taylor finally returned to the spotlight.
The stage lights illuminated Krista as she stood on the conductor’s podium. Her red hair, neatly tied back, glowed brilliantly under the light. A sleek black suit accentuated her commanding yet elegant presence. The orchestra of the Oslo Philharmonic reached the climactic finale of Beethoven’s Symphony No. 9, powerful and overflowing with emotion.
From the lead cellist’s chair, Olga Metkina watched Krista’s every gesture intently. Her cello seemed to come alive, perfectly in sync with Krista’s baton. In that moment, it was as though they were speaking a language only they understood—music.
As the final note faded, the concert hall erupted into thunderous applause. The audience rose to their feet, endlessly praising the performance. Krista bowed, her eyes momentarily catching Olga’s gaze. In Olga’s expression, there was not just admiration but a warmth filled with love.
After the concert, Krista and Olga were guided backstage to meet a special elderly couple. The husband held an old but well-maintained violin, while the wife, elegantly dressed in a fur coat, cradled a small wooden piano model—a simple yet meaningful memento.
_ You were both magnificent.
The husband said, his eyes bright with excitement.
_ We’ve been playing music together for over 40 years, but tonight’s performance reminded us of those early days.
Krista tilted her head slightly, her curiosity piqued.
_ Forty years? How did you sustain it for so long?
The wife took her husband’s hand, a gentle smile gracing her face.
_ Music was the first language we ever spoke to each other. Every time we played, no matter what happened, it reminded us why we fell in love in the first place.
Olga chuckled softly, instinctively intertwining her fingers with Krista’s slender hand.
_ That’s the most beautiful story I’ve ever heard. But what’s the real secret?
The husband smiled and replied,
_ Don’t strive for perfection. Let the music guide your heart, not the audience. When you play with the one you love, you’ll understand.
Returning after the performance, Krista sat at the piano in the living room. Her gaze was distant, as though she were replaying the words of the elderly couple in her mind. Olga approached from behind, gently placing a hand on her shoulder.
_ What are you thinking about, my Camellia?
Krista turned around, looking deeply into Olga's blue eyes.
_ I’m thinking... how lucky we are to have each other. But sometimes, I wonder if I’m strong enough to hold onto this forever. I’m afraid... I’ll let you down.
Olga shook her head softly, sat down beside Krista, and held her hand.
_ Krista, no one is perfect. I don’t need you to be an exceptional conductor or someone who never makes mistakes. I just need you to be yourself. We’ll get through everything, even the hardest times, together.
Krista looked at Olga for a long time before a gentle smile spread across her face.
_ That couple made me realize something. Music and love can coexist. We don’t need to make everything perfect; we just need to do everything with our hearts.
Olga smiled and placed a kiss on Krista’s forehead.
_ And the rhythm of your heart is the most beautiful music I’ve ever heard.
===
[Olga’s Journal]
“Tonight, I met a remarkable couple – people who have sustained their love through music for over 40 years. Their words made me reflect deeply.
I used to think that in order to keep a relationship, I had to be perfect. I had to be someone who never made mistakes, who never faltered. But now, I realize that isn’t true.
The love Krista and I share doesn’t need perfection. What it needs is sincerity, is heart. And I understand now that the music that brought us together in the first place will be what helps us overcome any challenge.
No matter what happens, I know I’ll never have to walk alone again. Krista is my light, and her love is the greatest strength I could ever have.”
December 20, 2024
The days leading up to Christmas were colder than ever in Oslo. Snow blanketed the streets, and the warm glow of yellow lights from small windows illuminated the city. Inside Krista and Olga’s cozy home, the soft notes of piano music filled the air – Krista practicing “Silent Night.” Standing beside her, Olga held her cello, her eyes sparkling.
_ What do you think about the idea of visiting an orphanage on Christmas Eve?
Olga asked as the music ended. Krista raised an eyebrow, her hands resting on the keys.
_ You mean to perform?
_ Not just perform, my Camellia. I think we can bring music to the children. After all, Christmas is about spreading love, isn’t it?
Olga stepped closer, placing a hand on Krista’s shoulder. Krista didn’t respond immediately, but a mixture of hesitation and hope rose in her heart. Perhaps this would be a way to ease into the idea of motherhood.
December 24, 2024
Encouraged by Olga, the two visited an orphanage that day. The scene of the orphanage on Christmas Eve was heartwarming. Strings of twinkling lights adorned the hallways, a large Christmas tree decorated in vibrant colors stood in the main hall, and the laughter of children echoed everywhere. Krista and Olga entered carrying two large boxes of small gifts and a cello.
Krista, wrapped in a warm red sweater, felt her heart lighten as she saw the radiant faces of the children. Olga, clutching her cello, tilted her head and smiled softly at Krista.
_ Are you ready, my Camellia?
Krista nodded, her green eyes glowing with tenderness.
_ Always ready when you’re here with me.
The two took their places in the center of the room, surrounded by children of all ages sitting cross-legged on the floor, their eager eyes fixed on the two musicians. Krista’s fingers glided gently over the keys of the orphanage’s old piano, producing the opening notes of “Silent Night.” Olga joined in with the deep, warm tones of her cello.
The children sat silently, listening, with some softly singing along to the familiar melody. The warm atmosphere of Christmas Eve filled the room, like a healing balm for everyone present.
After the performance, Krista and Olga sat on the floor to chat with the children. A little girl, about five years old, with vibrant red hair and sparkling green eyes, shyly approached Krista.
_ Excuse me...
The girl’s voice was small but clear. Krista leaned down, smiling warmly at the child.
_ Yes, sweetheart?
The girl hesitated briefly before suddenly hugging Krista, her face pressed against Krista’s chest.
_ You’re just like my mom!
Krista froze, her eyes wide in surprise. She turned to Olga, who was covering her mouth to stifle a laugh.
_ Your mom?
Krista asked gently, stroking the girl’s messy red hair.
_ Yes!
The girl nodded, her eyes shining with joy.
_ So... can you be my mom?
A wave of emotion surged in Krista’s heart – warmth, sweetness, but also a touch of sadness. She didn’t know how to answer and simply hugged the girl tightly.
_ What’s your name?
Olga sat down beside Krista, her voice soft.
_ Emma.
The girl replied, her voice like a whisper.
_ People say I’m naughty, but I’m really good. If you become my mom, I promise I’ll be good!
The childlike innocence of the statement made Krista’s heart ache. She took a deep breath, looking down at Emma and said:
_ Emma, I don’t know what the future holds, but I promise you this – you will always deserve to be loved, no matter who it’s from.
Before they left, Emma ran up and handed Krista a small drawing she had made with colored pencils. It depicted two women – one with red hair and one with brown – holding the hand of a red-haired child.
_ You’re my mom, and this is my other mom too.
Emma explained, pointing at the drawing.
_ I want both of you to be my family!
Krista looked at the picture, tears streaming down her face. Olga stood beside her, wrapping her arms around Krista gently.
_ Emma, thank you for this gift.
Krista said, her voice trembling.
_ Thank you for coming here.
Emma replied, hugging Krista’s leg. They lingered, reluctant to part, until Krista and Olga’s silhouettes faded into the twinkling lights of the winter night.
===
[Olga’s Journal]
“Today, we visited an orphanage and met a little girl named Emma. Her red hair bore an uncanny resemblance to Krista’s, and the way she hugged Krista, calling her ‘Mom,’ brought Krista to tears.
Krista didn’t say it, but I know that moment touched the deepest part of her heart. Perhaps this was the moment we needed – for Krista to believe that, no matter how hard the past has been, she still deserves love and a family.”
[The First Challenge]
The adoption process in Norway was not merely a series of bureaucratic steps. For Krista, it was like navigating a mental labyrinth, where she had to confront the deepest and most direct questions about herself—questions she wasn’t always prepared to answer.
During the first interview, Krista sat across from the social welfare officer in a modestly decorated room. Beside her, Olga’s gentle gaze seemed to offer her strength. Yet, each question posed felt like a blade slicing into her mind.
_ Ms. Krista, we understand you’ve undergone treatment for depression. Could you share how that might impact your role as a mother?
The question echoed, freezing the room. Krista clenched her hands on her lap, trying to stay calm. It felt as though every vulnerability, every fear, every scar of her soul was being laid bare under an unforgiving light.
After a long silence, Krista finally spoke, her voice trembling but resolute:
_ I don’t believe my past health issues will affect my ability to be a mother. But I also won’t deny that they once made me feel weak.
Olga placed her hand on Krista’s, squeezing it lightly in reassurance. Then she turned to the social worker, her eyes radiating fierce protectiveness.
_ But it’s precisely what Krista has overcome that makes her the incredible person I love. I believe her experiences are not a weakness but a strength. She deeply understands pain, and that will make her a mother who loves and heals.
Olga’s words brought tears to Krista’s eyes. She turned to her partner, her green eyes brimming with gratitude.
Weeks of interviews and evaluations later, Krista and Olga received joyous news: they were approved to be temporary foster parents to Emma. When the little red-haired girl’s small steps crossed into their cozy home in Oslo, the atmosphere seemed to glow.
Emma brought with her an innocent smile and the curiosity of a child. She quickly became attached to Olga, calling her “Mama O” within days. Every evening, the three of them gathered by the fireplace, reading stories together or listening to Krista play the piano.
Yet Krista couldn’t fully shake her worries. She feared she wasn’t good enough, wasn’t perfect enough for the role of a mother. But every time she saw Emma sitting by the piano, her eyes captivated by Krista’s fingers dancing across the keys, those fears began to fade.
One snowy evening, as flakes gently fell outside the window, Emma suddenly hugged both women and declared:
_ Mama Krista, Mama Olga, I love you both so much!
Krista froze for a moment, as if her heart had been squeezed by an overwhelming wave of emotions. She turned to Olga, tears streaming down her cheeks.
_ You are worthy of love, and you deserve a family.
Olga whispered, pulling Krista and Emma into a tight embrace. In that moment, amidst the warm glow of the fireplace and the genuine love of those around her, Krista realized that every scar, every sorrow she had endured was worth it—because it had led her to this.
[Little Sun]
The small home in Oslo had never been so lively. Since Emma moved in, the once-peaceful space was now filled with laughter and the pitter-patter of little feet running everywhere.
Krista stood in the kitchen, trying to focus on making a cup of coffee but constantly distracted by Emma’s giggles from the living room.
_ Mama Olga, higher! Higher!
Emma’s voice rang out, prompting Krista to turn around and witness a scene that made her laugh and sigh simultaneously: Olga, crouched on the carpet, lifting Emma into the air like an airplane. Emma spread her arms wide, her red hair flying, her blue eyes sparkling with joy.
_ Olga, what are you planning to do if she falls?
Krista called out, raising an eyebrow at her partner.
_ Don’t worry, my Camellia.
Olga replied, laughing, slightly out of breath.
_ Emma’s the best pilot, aren’t you, sweetheart?
_ Yes, I am!
Emma nodded enthusiastically before pointing at Krista.
_ Mama Krista, come play too!
Krista shook her head, setting her coffee down.
_ You two are already turning the house upside down, and now you want me to join?
Olga winked mischievously while Emma jumped out of Olga’s arms and ran straight to Krista, hugging her legs.
_ Mama Krista, please play with me! Mama Olga is out of strength!
_ Who says so?
Olga exclaimed, feigning a glare at Emma but collapsing onto the carpet with a laugh, clearly exhausted. Krista sighed, bending down to pick Emma up, looking directly into her green eyes—eyes that mirrored her own.
_ Alright, little pilot. But just for a while, okay? I’ve got work to do.
Emma squealed in delight, planting a loud kiss on Krista’s cheek before pointing and giving her “commands” for their playtime.
At dinner, Emma couldn’t sit still. She spun her fork, swung her legs under the table, and kept asking:
_ Mama Krista, why don’t you cook something more interesting?
_ More interesting? Like what?
Krista raised an eyebrow, pretending to be serious.
_ You know, this spaghetti is the pinnacle of culinary creativity.
_ But Mama Olga says you’re not a good cook...
Emma said matter-of-factly, making Olga burst into uncontrollable laughter.
_ If I didn’t intervene, she’d probably feed you spaghetti every day.
Olga teased, placing another bite of pasta on Emma’s plate.
_ But it’s okay because I’ll always be here to save the day.
_ Are you two conspiring against me?
Krista clutched her chest dramatically, feigning hurt. Her playful gesture made Emma giggle, and then the little girl suddenly sat upright, looking intently at Krista.
_ Mama Krista, sing! Mama Olga said you sing beautifully!
Krista froze, glancing at Olga—this was clearly her partner’s doing. Olga simply shrugged with a challenging smile.
_ I’m a conductor, not a singer, Emma.
_ But I want to hear you sing!
Emma pleaded, her eyes shimmering with tears.
Krista sighed in defeat and softly hummed a classic Christmas carol. Her gentle voice filled the room, and when the song ended, Emma clapped enthusiastically while Olga looked at Krista with pride in her eyes.
_ I love you both so much.
Emma whispered, lowering her head to eat again, her cheeks flushed. Though her words were quiet, both women instinctively responded in unison, as though it was second nature:
_ We love you too, Emma.
[9 PM: Bedtime Routine]
When the clock struck 9 PM, Krista and Olga tried to coax Emma into bed. The little girl protested vehemently, attempting to stretch her time awake by requesting another story.
_ Emma, you’ve already picked three books.
Krista said, trying to keep her voice firm but still gentle.
_ Now it’s time for bed.
_ But Mama Olga tells stories so well!
Emma clung to Olga’s hand, shaking it lightly. Olga simply smiled and placed her hand on her daughter’s forehead.
_ Listen to Mama Krista, little rascal. I promise I’ll tell you an even longer story tomorrow.
Olga said, then Emma pouted but eventually lay down obediently, pulling the blanket up to her chin. Her eyes closed, but she still murmured,
_ Mama Olga, Mama Krista, I love you both.
Krista bent down and kissed Emma’s forehead, whispering:
_ We love you too, Emma.
As the room dimmed, Krista and Olga lingered at the doorway, their hands intertwined, watching the little girl drift into sleep.
_ We’ll manage this, won’t we?
Krista whispered.
_ Not just manage...
Olga replied, gently pulling Krista out and closing the door behind her. She placed a soft kiss on her partner’s lips.
_ We’ll do our very best.
[Day Two: The First drawing]
The second day began with the sound of small footsteps running down the hallway and a cheerful voice calling out:
_ Mama Olga! Mama Krista! Wake up, I’m hungry!
Olga buried her head in the pillow, trying to steal a few more quiet moments. But Krista, used to waking early, sat up and reached out to ruffle Emma’s hair as the girl stood beside the bed.
_ All right, little pilot. I’ll make breakfast for you.
_ But I want Mama Olga to cook!
Emma insisted.
Still under the covers, Olga mumbled sleepily.
_ I’m not a private chef.
Amused by her partner’s grogginess, Krista laughed and tugged Olga’s hand.
_ Then today, both mamas will cook. How does that sound, Emma?
The little girl clapped her hands in excitement and led both mothers into the kitchen.
While Krista prepared pancakes, Olga fiddled with the coffee machine. Emma stood on a chair, carefully sprinkling powdered sugar over each pancake.
_ You’re doing great, Emma
Krista praised.
_ And what about Mama Olga? Is she good at this?
Emma asked, glancing at Olga, who had just spilled some coffee onto the counter.
_ Of course she is.
Olga said, quickly wiping the mess and flashing a reassuring smile.
After breakfast, Emma pulled a box of crayons from her small suitcase. She sat on the living room carpet, drawing with intense focus. Krista, seated on the sofa with a book, glanced at her.
_ What are you drawing?
_ A family picture.
Emma replied without looking up, engrossed in her work.
When the drawing was done, Emma held it up proudly. It was a simple but colorful depiction of herself standing between two women—one with red hair, the other with brown. Surrounding them were a small house and a Christmas tree.
_ This is me, Mama Krista, and Mama Olga!
Emma said enthusiastically, pointing to each figure in the picture like she was presenting a masterpiece. Her adorable manner made Olga laugh as she pulled Emma into a hug.
_ It’s beautiful, Emma. We’ll hang it on the wall.
Krista looked at the drawing, her blue eyes reflecting deep emotion. She whispered:
_ Thank you, Emma.
Emma tilted her head at Krista, then walked over and hugged her tightly.
_ I love Mama Krista the most.
Krista froze for a moment before wrapping her arms around Emma, feeling her heart soften with each word from the little girl.
[Afternoon: Pilot Training]
Emma couldn’t stay indoors for long. She tugged Olga outside to the snowy yard.
_ Mama Olga, I want to fly again!
_ Are you sure, little pilot? Mama Olga barely recovered from yesterday’s flying session.
Krista teased, leaning against the doorway, watching the two. Hearing her partner’s jab, Olga pretended to glare, then lifted Emma and spun her around in the yard, both of them laughing. She shot back.
_ I’ll do even better than yesterday!
Krista stood watching, her heart filled with a mix of joy and worry. She knew she still had fears about being a parent, but moments like these reassured her that everything would be okay.
[Bedtime Story and Goodnight Kiss]
Before bedtime, Emma picked the fairy tale The Snow Queen from the bookshelf. She climbed into bed and nestled between Krista and Olga.
_ Mama Olga, you read it! Mama Krista isn’t as good at it!
Emma declared. Krista playfully rolled her eyes but handed the book to Olga. Opening the first page, Olga began reading in her gentle voice. Emma listened intently, her eyes wide as Olga described the part where the Snow Queen captured young Kai.
_ I’ll never abandon anyone like that.
Emma mumbled, resting her head on Krista’s shoulder. Olga paused, stroking Emma’s hair as if to soothe her.
_ We know you won’t, because you’re so special.
Olga said softly.
When the story ended, Olga and Krista each kissed Emma’s forehead and wished her goodnight.
_ Mama Olga, Mama Krista, I love you both.
Emma murmured before drifting off to sleep.
As the room dimmed, Krista and Olga stood at the doorway, hand in hand.
_ We’ve made it this far, haven’t we?
_ We’ll do everything, because I believe we can.
===
[Olga’s Diary]
"Today is the second day Emma has been at home with us, and if there’s one word to describe my feelings right now, it’s 'complete.'
The morning began with the sound of little feet running down the hallway and Emma’s clear, cheerful voice calling us to wake up. Honestly, I had been hoping for a few more quiet minutes in bed — but when I saw her eager face, how could I possibly stay under the covers? Krista, as usual, was already up, and Emma quickly ‘allied’ with her to drag me out of bed.
We made breakfast together, a scene that was both chaotic and endearing. Emma stood on a chair, sprinkling powdered sugar onto pancakes with the seriousness of a little artist. Meanwhile, I tried (and failed) to operate the coffee machine without spilling anything. Luckily, Krista only laughed and didn’t complain much — a rare occurrence, considering how much of a perfectionist she usually is in the kitchen. Maybe Emma’s presence softened that side of her.
The morning passed gently, and then Emma brought out a box of crayons. She sat on the living room carpet, drawing with intense focus. Her first family picture — so simple yet enough to move me deeply. She drew Krista and me standing next to her, with red hair and smiles that I knew Emma had imagined for us.
Krista stared at the drawing for a long time, her eyes reflecting something indescribable. When Emma hugged her and said, “Mommy Krista, I love you,” I saw her tremble slightly. In that moment, I knew that part of Krista’s fear had melted away.
---
The afternoon was spent outside, with Emma pulling me into the yard to “practice flying.” She’s so much like me — energetic, adventurous, and always ready to push boundaries. Krista stood by the door, half-smiling and half-worried. I knew she still doubted whether she could be a good mother. But when I looked into Krista’s eyes, I saw love — a gentle yet fierce love that she didn’t realize she had already given to Emma.
I picked Emma up and spun her around in the snowy yard, her laughter echoing through the crisp air. Moments like these made me believe that, despite the challenges, we were on the right path.
---
In the evening, while reading Emma a bedtime story, I realized something small but important: Emma had chosen us, not the other way around. She had brought her innocence, trust, and love into our lives without hesitation.
When she rested her head on Krista’s shoulder and said she loved us, I saw tears fall from Krista’s eyes. And as we stood by the door, watching Emma sleep, Krista took my hand and whispered:
“We’ve made it this far, haven’t we?”
I didn’t answer right away, only squeezed her hand tighter. Because I knew the road ahead would still be long. But I also knew that with her by my side, we could face anything.
And tonight, as I sit here writing this, my heart is full of gratitude. Grateful that we found Emma, grateful that Krista grows stronger each day, and grateful for a family I never dared to dream of.
[Spring of Hope]
Oslo, 2025
The grand hall in Oslo gradually quieted after the prolonged applause. Krista stepped down from the podium, her heart filled with mixed emotions. Her speech was not only a gesture of gratitude but also an admission — to herself, to Olga, and to everyone who had followed her journey.
In the hallway outside, Olga stood waiting with little Emma in her arms. The girl’s fiery red hair and sparkling green eyes radiated excitement as she spotted Krista approaching. Emma jumped down from Olga’s arms and ran toward Krista, her small hands reaching up to embrace her mother. As she hugged her tightly, the little girl’s bright voice rang out:
_ Mommy Krista! You did it! You’re the best!
Krista crouched down, opening her arms to catch Emma. She held her tightly, feeling the warmth of her tiny body spread through her like a healing balm. Her voice trembled with emotion as she whispered:
_ Thank you, my little pilot.
Watching the tender scene, Olga finally stepped forward, her gaze soft as it lingered on the two people she loved most.
_ You did so well, Krista. I told you, you’ve always had more strength than you think.
Krista looked up at Olga, her eyes shining with deep gratitude. But before she could respond, Emma tilted her head, her small brows furrowing in curiosity.
_ Mommy Krista, Mommy Olga.
Emma asked, her voice soft yet clear:
_ What is depression? Does Mommy Krista have it?
The question stunned both Krista and Olga into silence. They exchanged glances, as if searching for the right words. Krista took a deep breath, then knelt down to Emma’s level, her gaze gentle but serious.
_ Emma, depression is like a big dark cloud that sometimes appears in your mind. It makes Mommy feel sad, tired, and sometimes unable to see the light in life. But what’s important is that even with that cloud, I always have you and Mommy Olga to help me through it.
Emma tilted her head, her bright eyes shining as if she were thinking deeply.
_ So, is there a way to make the cloud go away, Mommy?
Olga crouched beside Krista, wrapping an arm around her shoulder.
_ Yes, Emma. With love, patience, and help from doctors, too. Sometimes it takes time to chase the cloud away, but what matters is that Mommy Krista doesn’t have to do it alone.
Emma nodded, seeming to understand. She leaned closer, wrapping her arms around both Krista and Olga, and whispered:
_ I’ll help you chase the cloud away, too.
Krista smiled, tears streaming down her face.
_ You already have, Emma. You’re the light I needed.
Olga stood and gently wiped the tears from Krista’s cheeks. She smiled and placed a soft kiss on her wife’s forehead.
_ Let’s go. Our family has a walk by the lake waiting.
At the lake outside Oslo, the evening light faded, casting a golden glow over the water’s surface. Emma skipped along the gravel path, occasionally bending down to pick up dry leaves. She turned and asked, her voice bright:
_ Mommy Olga, can we fish here?
Olga laughed, her eyes sparkling.
_ Do you want to be a pilot or a fisherman?
_ Both!
Emma exclaimed, making Olga laugh as she picked the little girl up. Krista stood watching them, her heart swelling with a rare sense of peace. She turned to Olga and said softly:
_ Thank you for not giving up on me.
Olga took Krista’s hand, her deep blue eyes holding a quiet promise without the need for words.
_ You’ll never have to face anything alone, Krista. We’re a family, and we’ll always have each other.
And as the sun set beneath the vast Norwegian sky, Krista felt that no matter what lay ahead, she had found her light — in Olga’s love and Emma’s laughter.