The day little Ando came into the world was filled with light and happiness.
"Congratulations, you have a baby boy," said the midwife, carefully holding the newborn.
The room filled with the baby's first cry—a sound that changed the young family's life forever.
"Dear, have you thought of a name?" asked the young mother, looking tenderly at her husband.
The father tilted his head slightly, peering into his son's tiny face.
"I thought, maybe we could name him after your grandfather?"
"So, Ando," she smiled. "Well hello, Ando. That's your name now."
Two weeks
The small apartment filled with new sounds and smells. A baby crib occupied the corner of the bedroom, and a feeding bottle appeared on the kitchen table. The mother and father, both teachers at the local school, took turns soothing the baby when he woke up at night.
"You know," whispered the father, holding his son, "when he grows up, I'll show him all the amazing places your grandfather told us about."
Three months
"Look, look! He's smiling!" The mother leaned over Ando, who was lying on a blanket in the living room.
The baby's tiny face lit up with a smile that melted his parents' hearts.
"Wait, just a moment," the father grabbed the camera, clicked the shutter, capturing the moment. "Grandma and grandpa will be delighted!"
Six months
"And here comes grandma!" exclaimed the mother, opening the door.
An elderly woman with kind eyes entered the apartment, holding a bag of treats.
"Now, where's my little champion?" She knelt down before Ando, who was crawling on the floor and immediately moved toward her, making joyful sounds.
One year
Ando sat in a high chair with a small cake topped with one candle in front of him. Around him gathered his parents, grandparents, and several family friends.
"Happy birthday, little one!" His parents helped him blow out the candle, and everyone applauded.
Ando, not quite understanding what was happening, happily clapped his hands along with everyone else.
One year and three months
Ando, wobbling, took his first independent steps from the wall to his father's outstretched arms.
"Come on, son, you can do it!" encouraged his father.
Three uncertain steps, and the little one fell into his father's embrace, who then twirled him around the room.
"Our boy is growing up!"
One and a half years
"Ma-ma!" Ando clearly pronounced, sitting on the floor among his toys.
"He said 'mama'!" she exclaimed excitedly, lifting her son into her arms. "Say it again!"
"Ma-ma!" repeated Ando, pleased with the effect he had produced.
"And 'papa'," his father asked hopefully, coming closer. "Say 'papa'."
"Ma-ma!" the little one stubbornly repeated, causing his parents to laugh.
Three years
"Look, this is daddy's motorcycle," explained the father, showing Ando his old motorcycle with a sidecar. "When you grow up a bit more, we'll all ride together to visit grandma and grandpa on it."
Ando's eyes lit up with excitement. The motorcycle seemed magical to him.
"I'll drive too!" declared the little boy.
"Absolutely," laughed his father, "but not before you turn eighteen."
Four years
"Get ready, son! Today we're going to grandma and grandpa's village," his mother was packing things into a small bag. "Take your teddy bear."
Ando was delighted—he loved visiting his grandmother, who always baked his favorite pies and told amazing stories.
His father had already brought the motorcycle out of the garage and was checking if everything was in order.
"The weather is great, we'll get there quickly," he said with a smile when his wife and son came out of the house.
Ando climbed into the motorcycle's sidecar, and his mother sat beside him, embracing him. Dad started the engine, and they set off.
The road was familiar—they had traveled it many times. Ando watched the trees and fields rushing by, listened to the sound of the wind and engine, felt the warmth of his mother's arms.
And then everything happened too quickly.
His father's shout. The screech of brakes. A sharp turn of the handlebars.
A tractor, suddenly appearing in their lane.
Impact. Darkness.
Fragments of memories.
Sirens.
People in white coats.
Bright light.
"The boy is regaining consciousness! Quick, call the doctor!"
Ando opened his eyes. Everything was blurry. White ceiling. Strange sounds. Pain.
"Mom?" he whispered. "Dad?"
But only strangers were around him.
"Lie still, little one," said the nurse. "Everything will be alright."
The days in the hospital blended together. His leg, encased in a cast, hung on special ropes attached to the ceiling. Metal pins protruded from under the white shell of the cast, which doctors had inserted to hold the shattered bones together.
In the hospital, the boy was often visited by different adults. Stern women from social services with folders of documents. Relatives with eyes red from crying. Friends of his parents who stroked his head and secretly wiped away tears.
But Ando barely understood anything. The severe concussion had erased everything that happened before the hospital. His memory had become a blank slate. The boy often lost consciousness, sinking into darkness, and when he regained consciousness, he would ask again and again:
"Where are mom and dad? When will they come?"
The adults exchanged glances and promised that they would explain everything soon.
One day, a couple—a man and a woman—came to his ward. They talked with the doctor for a long time, and then approached Ando's bed.
"Hello," the woman said softly. "My name is..."
A faint glow flickered by the window. The world around him began to swim. Sounds became distant, blurred. Darkness engulfed his consciousness again.
When Ando regained consciousness the next time, he was no longer in the hospital. The white ceilings and smell of medicine had been replaced by a cozy room with blue wallpaper. He lay on a soft bed under a warm blanket. Beside him sat an unfamiliar woman, who carefully adjusted the pillow under his head.
"Oh, you're awake," she said quietly. "How do you feel?"
Ando blinked, trying to understand where he was and who these people were. A man looked into the room, and behind him—a little girl with dark pigtails that curled slightly at the ends.
"Hi, I'm Tasha," said the girl, stepping forward and curiously examining him.
Ando's brain, either deliberately protecting him from trauma or by chance, had completely erased the memories of his real parents. Their appearances, their voices, their life together—everything had disappeared without a trace while still in the hospital. Now the boy was like a clean slate: knowing no one, remembering nothing.
A leg in a cast and two crutches leaning against the bed—that was all Ando brought into his new life, into his new family. Without a past, without memories, but with a whole life ahead of him.