There were three sisters living in the house: the eldest Zoya, the middle Ulyana, and the youngest Stefa. Stefa was six years old. She loved carols, loved snow, and most of all, loved Saint Nicholas. Grandma told stories about him every winter, and Stefa knew his name by heart.
The older sisters have been laughing lately:
"Stefa, do you still believe in Saint Nicholas? He's not here! It's Mom and Dad who put out the presents.".
"That's not true," Stefa insisted. "He is. I know.".
"Prove it. Have you ever seen him?"
Stefa was silent. She didn't see. But her heart knew. And the heart is not mistaken.
On the night before Nicholas Day, the sisters went to bed. Zoya and Ulyana fell asleep quickly - they were tired. And Stefa lay with her eyes open. The moon shone through the window. In the corner stood a small Christmas tree. The girl whispered: "I won't fall asleep. I'll see you.".
An hour passed. Two. Stefa's eyes were already closing — but she kept them open, biting her palm. And suddenly — in the silence — she heard: a very soft knock. Not on the door. But as if… from behind the window. Stefa got to her knees. She looked out the window.
The snow was falling in big, big snowflakes. And among them walked someone in white robes. A tall golden mitre. A crutch in his hand. A white beard — like a cloud. Saint Nicholas.
Stefa held her breath. She quietly made her way to the door of the children's room and peeked out. Saint Nicholas was standing by the Christmas tree. He took out small, small wrapped presents from his pocket. One for Zoya. One for Ulyana. One for Stefa. He put them under the tree.
And then he turned around. He looked straight at Stepa. And smiled.
"Don't be afraid, little one. You're doing great for waiting.".
"I knew you were here," Stefa whispered.
— I knew. And that's why you see. And your sisters will see later. When their hearts are ripe again. If you don't prove it to them, they'll recognize it themselves. And now — run to bed. In the morning, you'll tell me — and you'll understand one thing: you don't need to prove the truth. You have enough of it in you.
Stefa nodded. She ran back to bed. She closed her eyes. She smiled. In the morning the sisters woke up, saw the presents, and gasped. And Stefa said, «I saw him. He was coming. A prince in white. With a mitre.» The sisters laughed. She didn’t argue. She just looked out the window. There was a small mark on the snow beneath it—like a thin crutch. Stefa knew. And she had had enough.
💛 He who believes, sees. And he who laughs, just overslept.