On the outskirts of the city, in a quiet and peaceful place, there was a small establishment called “Corner.” This place did not strive for popularity among the fashionable crowd but mainly attracted locals with its homely atmosphere. For the third year, Alina had been working there.
On the eve of a new workday, the young woman was methodically wiping the tables, lost in anxious thoughts about the upcoming rent payments. Her financial situation had grown increasingly difficult ever since her mother passed away. She had to take on extra work hours, and the long-cherished dream of obtaining a higher education had gradually faded away.
— Alina, wake up! The guests will be arriving soon, — came the voice of Zina, the experienced, elderly cook.
Startled, Alina hurried off to the kitchen. Strict but fair, Zina always treated her warmly, feeding her during lunches and occasionally giving her some baked goods.
— Coming, Zina Petrovna! — Alina replied, straightening her apron.
The day passed slowly: guests arrived and left the café, and she continued to perform her duties — taking orders, engaging cordially with clients, and serving food. By the end of the day, her legs reminded her of the long hours of work.
When there was little time left before closing, the door creaked open, and a man in an impeccable suit entered. His expensive accessories, especially his watch, spoke of significant wealth. He chose a seat by the window, pulled out his phone, and began typing something quickly.
Approaching with a notepad, Alina politely inquired about his order. The man looked up, and something like surprise flashed in his eyes, as if he recognized someone from his past.
— Bring me a double espresso, — he said, continuing to scrutinize the young woman intently.
This somewhat embarrassed her. She hurriedly jotted down the order, still feeling his persistent gaze upon her.
When it came time to settle the bill, Alina noticed a large banknote tucked under the receipt — she had never received such generous tips before. When she tried to return the money, she heard only a soft phrase: “Keep it, you deserve it.”
The following days repeated monotonously: the man came in, ordered coffee, and left generous tips. Zina Petrovna, noticing yet another gift of fate, asked with concern, “What does that gentleman want from you?”
— I have no idea, — Alina shrugged. — He just comes in, drinks coffee, and leaves money.
— Be careful, girl, — warned the cook. — Rich men don’t throw around their generosity like that.
Indeed, the man made no attempts to initiate conversation or show any ill intent. He simply came, observed, and left generous sums.
One evening, he left an amount equal to Alina’s monthly earnings. Unable to contain herself, she chased him down in the parking lot.
— Wait! — she exclaimed, holding the money in her hands. — What does all this mean?
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