After 10 years, mother returns to the abandoned home where she had left her one-year-old kid and discovers something that makes her cry

Over ten years ago, something terrible happened in Yaroslavl, a Russian City.

One day quite some time ago, a neighbor heard that a baby was crying in a house not far away, but at the time he didn’t think about it a whole lot and went back to his daily life.

In the days that proceeded, he noticed that the baby continued to cry inconsolably, even though no one had seen any signs of life from the house, there were never lights on or any sign of activity at all.

The neighbors really started to worry and called the police to investigate.

When the police got into the house it was derelict and empty, the people who had lived there before had taken all their things, cleared the house, and disappeared.

The only thing that was left in the house was their own little baby, how awful!

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The little girl was one year old and they found her on a dirty cold floor all on her own for many days!!

The authorities investigated further and discovered that the baby was called Liza Verbitskaya, although her parents were nowhere to be seen, in fact, no one could find them or knew where they were.

Little Liza was taken to a doctor and she recovered in the hospital for a good number of days to make sure she really was nursed back to health after her ordeal.

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While she was in the hospital there was a woman called Inna Nika, she was there looking after her sick son and was there day and night.

One particular day she happened to hear a scream from the hospital room next door and had a look inside the room, out of curiosity and concern, to see what was going on. Little Liza was there in the room and Inna felt a maternal pull toward the little girl.

From that day forth, Inna visited Liza every day and came with clothes, food and toys for her.

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Inna was about to visit Liza one day, like every other day, but Liza was not there, she had gone. She found out that the little girl was thought to be strong enough to be released from care at the hospital to an orphanage.

Inna felt so empty and really yearned to be reunited with the little girl again, so much so that she made the decision to go and find her!

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When she did find her she felt that there was no doubt in her mind, she wanted to adopt the little girl. Inna began the adoption process as soon as she could and after a lot of paperwork Liza was given permission to live with Inna and her family, where she loved her like one of her own.

When Inna adopted Liza, with the paperwork and delays, she was nearly two. She was so afraid of loud noises she couldn’t chew food! She had been very traumatized…

Inna was more determined than ever to give the little girl the ware and love that she had always needed and her dark times were clearly in the past.

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Liza found it difficult to learn to walk, but as she got older Inna joined her with a dance school, she hoped that she would become more comfortable in herself and it would bring her out of her shell.

Exactly why, nobody will be 100% sure, but with all the love and the care she received from her adopted mom, it wasn’t long before Liza bloomed like another girl of her age.

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Liza was really dark skinned unlike her siblings and stuck out like a sore thumb, it really was not easy as she began to grow up. Inna always said to her daughter that she should never listen to others as they are easily driven by jealousy.

The now teenage Liza has won several beauty contests, many talents show and worked her first job as a fashion model. Such an amazing contrast to how her life started and how she has succeeded!

Living Across from a Cemetery, I Saw a Baby Left by One of the Graves on Halloween Night

Now, those days were long gone, but I still cherished the traditions. Each year, I decorated my house with cobwebs, pumpkins, and spooky lights, and waited for the neighborhood kids to come trick-or-treating. It brought a little light into my otherwise quiet life.

Just two years ago, I had walked the same streets with my daughter, holding her tiny hand as we went door to door. It feels like a distant dream now, a beautiful memory that slipped away too soon. Losing her shattered me, and it broke my marriage with John as well. We couldn’t find a way to heal, and we drifted apart under the weight of our grief.

That night, after handing out candy for hours, I realized my bowl was empty. With a sigh, I hung a “No More Treats” sign on the door. A familiar ache settled in my chest—the kind that never fully goes away.

My house stood directly across from a cemetery, a place that unnerved most people. It didn’t bother me. The rent was cheap, and I’d never been one to believe in ghosts. I made myself a cup of cocoa and sat by the window, half-expecting to see some teenagers playing pranks among the gravestones.

But what I saw instead made my heart skip a beat. Near one of the graves was what looked like a baby car seat. I blinked, thinking it was a trick of the light, but the shape didn’t waver.

I grabbed my coat and hurried outside, the chilly October air biting at my skin. The cemetery was eerily still as I walked closer to the grave, every step filled with dread. When I finally reached it, my breath caught in my throat. There, in the car seat, was a tiny baby, fast asleep.

“Oh my God,” I whispered, kneeling down to pick her up. She was so small, completely unaware of the cold night air around her. “How did you get here?” I asked softly, knowing there would be no answer. I held her close and rushed back to the house.

Once inside, I laid her gently on the couch and noticed a note taped to her car seat. With trembling hands, I unfolded it. The note read, “Amanda, one and a half years old.”

That was all. No phone number, no explanation. Just a name. I searched the car seat for more information, but there was nothing. I looked down at Amanda, who stirred slightly, and felt my heart twist. What was I going to do with her?

Without thinking, I called the police. They listened as I explained the situation, but when they told me there were no reports of a missing child, frustration bubbled inside me. Still, they asked me to bring her in.

At the station, Amanda sat quietly in her car seat, her wide eyes gazing up at me as though she already trusted me. When the officers said she’d be placed in the care of social services, a sudden surge of protectiveness washed over me.

“Can she stay with me, at least for now?” I asked, my voice steady though my heart raced.

After hours of paperwork and background checks, they agreed. Amanda was coming home with me.

The days that followed were a blur of bottles, diapers, and sleepless nights. It had been so long since I’d taken care of a little one, but it all came back to me piece by piece. Every morning, I bought her toys, read her stories, and watched as her giggles filled the quiet spaces of my house. She became the light I didn’t know I needed.

It wasn’t always easy—some nights, her cries were impossible to soothe. But even in those difficult moments, I found joy. Amanda had filled the void in my heart, a place that had been empty for so long. The more time we spent together, the more attached I became.

One morning, as I fed Amanda breakfast, there was a knock at the door. I opened it to find a police officer standing with an elderly woman by his side.

“Jessica,” the officer said gently. “This is Amanda’s grandmother, Carol. She’s here to take her back.”

My heart sank. Amanda had become so much a part of me that the thought of letting her go felt unbearable. But Carol was her family. I had no right to keep her.

Carol stepped forward, smiling warmly. “Hello, sweetie,” she said, reaching for Amanda. Every instinct in me screamed to hold on, but I slowly handed her over.

The moment Amanda left my arms, she started to cry. Her little hands reached for me, and it was like a dagger to my heart. Tears stung my eyes as I watched her go, but I knew I had no choice.

Before leaving, Carol handed me a basket and thanked me for taking care of Amanda. As soon as they were gone, I collapsed on the couch, tears flowing freely. It felt like I had lost my daughter all over again.

Later that night, I stared at the basket, too heartbroken to eat. Something nagged at me, though. I picked up the thank-you note Carol had left and read it again. The handwriting looked familiar.

My heart raced as I ran to my room and grabbed the note that had been left with Amanda’s car seat. Holding the two side by side, a chill ran down my spine. The handwriting was the same. Carol had abandoned Amanda at the cemetery.

Without hesitation, I grabbed my phone and dialed a number I hadn’t called in a long time.

“John, hi,” I said, my voice shaking.

“Jess?” he sounded surprised. “Is everything okay?”

“No,” I admitted, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on me. “I need your help.”

“I’ll be right there,” he said, his voice firm.

John arrived in under twenty minutes. I told him everything—about Amanda, the cemetery, and Carol’s deception. He listened quietly, and when I finished, he asked the question I’d been dreading.

“What do you want to do?”

“I want to take her back,” I said, my voice strong with conviction. “Amanda belongs with me.”

John nodded, and from that moment, we worked together. It was a long battle—endless meetings with lawyers and tense confrontations with Carol—but we didn’t give up. Weeks later, we stood in court, ready to fight for Amanda’s future.

Carol broke down on the stand, admitting that she had left Amanda at the cemetery because she could no longer care for her. The court revoked her custody, and I was granted temporary guardianship—with the possibility of adoption.

As I walked out of the courthouse, Amanda resting peacefully in my arms, I couldn’t stop smiling. She was mine, and I would do everything in my power to keep her safe and loved.

John walked beside us, his expression calm but content. “You’re going to be an amazing mom to her,” he said softly.

I smiled at him, my heart full of gratitude. “Thank you, John. I couldn’t have done this without you.”

As we walked away from the courthouse, I felt a renewed sense of hope. Halloween had always been special to me, but now it meant something even greater—it brought Amanda into my life.

And perhaps, just maybe, it was bringing John back into it, too.

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