All happy families are alike; each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.

Ivan Braginski had managed to fall in love with Katya, the serf who watched over his two newborns, Andrei and Dmitri. Every day, he would stand by the door and stare as the woman would lull either child back to sleep had they become upset or woke from their dreams.

Natasha, his wife, adored her children. At least, that was what she said. But it was difficult for her to keep up with two of them. If Andrei began to cry, then so would Dmitri. And if Dmitri would cry, then Andrei would howl as well.

It was too much for poor Natasha, who was fragile and delicate and became sick when frustrated. Simply, the mother loved her children when they were likable and disliked her children when they were difficult.

Ivan sometimes wondered if she could tell them apart.

So he would regard Katya with an odd sort of veneration, as she seemed to value his children whether they relaxed within her arms or kicked and wailed.

One morning, that sweet serf sat within the rocking chair kept within the children's room-the same rocking chair meant for Natasha- Dmitri resting within her lap. Katya looked as though she had fallen from Heaven. The light made her hair golden and her pale flesh porcelain. And his son was so calm, entirely joyous with a few of her dainty fingers inside his minute hand.

Katya caught him.

Her lips bent themselves into a slight grin.

"Am I doing something wrong, Mr. Braginski?" Those angelic blue eyes held a tinge of happiness.

"No. Not at all." Pause. "Do you like children, Katya?"

"Yes. You have sweet boys." Finger tips moved the small amount of blond lacing Dmitri's brow.

"Can you tell them apart? Sometimes I wonder whether or not I'm getting them mixed up."

"I think I can. This one is Dmitri." Katya's mouth debated over words for a moment. "Might I make a suggestion?"

"Yes, of course."

"It might be easier to label them….perhaps sew the first letter of their names into their clothing. Or maybe something along those lines."

"Well, how do you tell them apart?"

"To be honest, I'm not even certain. I think…I think I can just tell."

"Oh, I see." Ivan looked at his children, the one within Katya's lap and the one still contained within the crib. "Are they good?"

"Yes. They're very good. Andrei is a bit rowdier, but that's alright. He's a sweet baby."

The man nodded, uncertain of what to say. He wanted to spill his entire heart to that strange saint. And it was almost as though he could. But Katya was a serf. She was not meant to know his woes and fears and troubles.

So, those cool sapphire eyes ate the sun filtering through the window.

"I'm going to borrow Andrei."

"Of course sir. Do whatever you please."

So Ivan's gigantic hands stole the sleeping infant from his blankets, the child not even stirring. And gently, with eyes full of pride, the man took his little son to Natasha, who was sitting upon the sofa in one of the parlors, reading a novel. She had finished breakfast and dressed, prepared for a long day of doing nothing and smelling of pricey fragrance.

"Hello, Darling." Attention did not even shift from those long pages.

"Hello, Natasha. Can you tell me which baby this is?"

"Well, why do you ask?"

"I can't tell which one is which."

"That's horrendous! I've they're your children!"

"But they look exactly the same."

"Well, that one is Dmitri." A chocolate was fetched from the bowl sitting next to the couch. "Look, you can tell by his…" A moment was taken to chew and another few lines were read. "Nose."

"Nose?"

"Yes. It's different than Andrei's. I don't know, dear. You simply have to tell."

"…Are you certain this one is Dmitri? He looks like he might be Andrei."

"No, that's Dmitri." Another bite of chocolate. "How is that-oh? Katya doing? Yes. That's her name. I'm not quite sure I trust her with my children."

"I think she's doing a fine job. If you don't trust her with your babies, why not take care of them yourself?"

"It's so stressful. You wouldn't understand, Ivan. You didn't have to push them out of your body-you just had to watch." More confections to that full mouth. "Why don't you put Dmitri back? He looked tired."

"He's already asleep. And I'm fairly certain this one is Andrei."

"Well, if you're certain, why did you ask?"

Ivan only managed to sigh, eyes hooking to the peaceful thing contained within his strong arms. "I'm not certain why I asked, Natasha. I suppose I wanted to make sure I was correct. Good-bye."

"Good-bye."

So the father took Andrei back to his room, lowering him into that happy dungeon, catching a glimpse of the woman who truly should have been the mother; she was sitting in tranquility with the other son, who wore contentment easily as skin. Those tiny legs even kicked in their dreamy delusion, soft noise arising from gaping lips.

"Did everything go well, sir?"

"Yes, Katya. It went perfectly well."

There was a long pause.

"Mr. Braginski, would you like me to get back to work?"

"No. I want you to stay with them." The two met glances. "Would you like me to remain here? Is it boring?"

"Sir, my opinion isn't important."

"Please, answer my question."

"Mr. Braginski, I would love to watch over your children. I adore them."

Ivan only smiled-a subdued sort of grin. He honestly wished more could be offered. "I'm going to my office now."

"Good-bye, sir."

"Good-bye."

And that was that.