Damir liked her reaction to his studying gaze.

He smiled back with his dazzling smile and winked at her.

He didn’t rush to ask her out, but the thought had crossed his mind. He liked her.

They walked for about an hour, maybe even an hour and a half, chatted and laughed.

Then he walked her home, thanked her, and promised to call.

The girl walked away full of hope and dreams.

Meanwhile, he headed home, caught up in entirely different thoughts.

The next morning during breakfast, his mother said she had taken a few days off to spend more time with him.

That made him happy, and he decided not to put off the serious conversation any longer.

Sitting down on the couch, he asked her to sit next to him.

«Mom, why am I dark-skinned and don’t look like you?» Damir asked directly, looking into her smiling eyes.

She looked a little confused, and her smile began to fade.

«Am I?» she shrugged, puzzled.

«Yes. I’m different.»

Damir’s voice was calm but confident. He didn’t look away.

«Well, maybe it’s your father’s genes…» she said, trying to reason, not understanding what her son was getting at.

«But I don’t look Tatar. He was Tatar too, wasn’t he?»

«We don’t know who his parents were… they died young…»

Damir watched her with a half-smile, answering her assumptions with silence.

“I don’t understand, son,” the woman said in frustration, turning her whole body toward him. “What are you trying to say?! I’ve never been with anyone except my husband, and I know exactly who your father is!”

“Mom, calm down, come on. I never meant to suggest anything like that,” Damir assured her, gently patting her on the shoulder. But feeling her tension, he sighed and, after a pause, continued.

“I love you endlessly, and I always will. You’re my mother – and nothing will ever change that.”

She blinked quickly, and her fear only grew with every word he spoke.

He sighed again and turned away. His tongue wouldn’t move.

She sat there, waiting for him to finish.

What terrified her most was the thought of losing him.

He knew that – and that made it even harder to speak.

After a short pause, Damir finally gathered his courage.

He took her small hand into his large palms and held it gently.

With warmth in his voice, he tried to continue.

“I recently found out that…”

“What??”

“That… we were accidentally switched.”

“Switched? Who was switched?”

“Me and him.”

“Him who?” The woman was turning pale, her mouth slightly open as she struggled for breath.

The thought that was forming in her head terrified her.

“Your real son. He lives in Canada. His name is Samad Saidi.”

«Her blood pressure spiked, but she's stable now, don't worry,» the doctor said as she walked out of the ICU.

Damir stood there holding his breath, waiting for the verdict. He scolded himself for telling his mother everything so directly, without preparation. He had no idea how to act now or what to do next. But thank God—it wasn’t a heart attack. The fainting had been caused by a sudden spike in blood pressure. By the evening, he brought his mother home.

«Are you going to Canada?» she asked weakly from her bed when Damir approached.

«My place is by your side,» he replied.

But three months later, a plane carried Damir to Montreal—toward his biological parents, and the young man who had unknowingly gifted him such a wonderful mother. He had decided to grant her wish and marry the neighbor girl—not only to ease her worries, but also because he genuinely liked Aaliya. Besides, none of the local guys had a bad word to say about her when he discreetly asked about her reputation. That settled it for him. A month after the hospital incident, they got engaged. Aaliya put on the headscarf and the ring—she became his official fiancée.