Stas wearily stared at the blank sheet of paper before him. His thoughts scattered like frightened birds, leaving him in complete silence. No ideas, no inspiration—neither today, nor yesterday, nor in the past few weeks. His restaurant, once his pride and the meaning of his life, was slowly sinking, and he seemed incapable of doing anything to change it. It wasn’t even a lack of knowledge or experience. Simply, his life had completely lost its color.
“Stanislav Sergeyevich, we have a client who wants to order a banquet,” came the voice of Nastya, one of the longtime employees of the restaurant.
Stas slowly lifted his head, as if every movement required all his strength.
“With us? Are you sure he didn’t mistake the place?”
“No, he says he’s been here before. He wants to celebrate an anniversary.”
“Maybe explain to him that the circumstances here are completely different now?” Stas said gloomily.
He started toward the door, but Nastya resolutely blocked his path.
“Stas, Valya has been gone for three years now,” she began, looking at him with concern. “But there are still people working here. You must come back to reality. If you don’t pull yourself together, we’ll have to close the restaurant.”
Her gaze was full of sympathy, yet it carried a firm resolve.
“I know, Nastya. But who cares? If the restaurant closes, so be it.”
“And what about you?” she asked, raising her voice. “You’re only 32, and you’ve already buried yourself alive. The restaurant was your shared creation. Valya poured her whole soul into it. She had such grand plans… Or are they no longer needed?”
Stas grew dark. He didn’t want to continue this conversation.
“Valya is gone,” he said quietly. “And her dreams are left only in the past.”
“And what about you?” Nastya repeated, stepping closer. “You chose this life, built it with her. Why are you now just giving up?”
For a while he remained silent, feeling her words penetrate the protective wall of indifference he had built around himself.
“Nastya, I understand everything you’re saying. I know you’re right. But I can’t change anything. Do you understand?” his voice trembled.
At that moment, a man entered the hall—the man who wanted to order the banquet. He carefully surveyed the room and addressed Stas:
“Good evening. We’d like to celebrate my anniversary here. We once celebrated my son’s wedding here, and we really liked it. I especially remember one woman, Valentina. She was incredibly attentive and helped with the organization. We were hoping she’d take care of our event again.”
Stas grimaced painfully and replied quietly:
“Valentina is no more. She died in a car accident along with our daughter three years ago. Perhaps you should look for another place.”
He turned and headed for his office, but the man caught up with him and grabbed his hand.
“So Valentina was your wife? You know what? You didn’t deserve her. She lived for this restaurant, poured her whole soul into it. And you let everything fall apart.”
Stas froze for a moment, then took a deep breath.
“Maybe you’re right. All the best.”
The man left, and Nastya, who had been watching, simply shook her head.
Three hours passed. Stas sat in his office, staring fixedly at one spot on the wall. Suddenly, a noise from the back yard distracted him. He rose, opened the door, and saw one of the waiters roughly pushing a vagrant off the restaurant premises.
“I can’t just leave him here! What, offer the owner something instead of payment? Get out of here!”
Stas noticed an elderly man being chased away. Something stirred within him—a feeling long suppressed by grief.
“Igor, what’s going on?” he asked, moving closer.
“Stanislav Sergeyevich…” the waiter hesitated, pointing at the vagrant.
The man, looking weathered by life, extended something toward Stas:
“Here, I didn’t bring this for nothing. I found it by the river. It’s golden, beautiful. And we haven’t had food for two days now.”
Stas instinctively looked at the homeless man’s hand, and his heart momentarily froze. The man was offering a bracelet, and it smoothly slipped into Stas’s palm. His gaze fixed on the ornament—he recognized it immediately. Once, together with Valya, they had designed it: each link symbolized a special date in their lives. One day, while swimming in the river, Valya had lost it. They had searched for it until dark, but to no avail. Stas had then thought that someone must have picked it up.
So many memories were tied to that bracelet. Stas coughed, trying to control his emotions, but his voice remained hoarse:
“Igor, give this man as much food as he wants. Any food! And make sure there’s enough for everyone.”
Igor looked at him in surprise, but nodded silently. Wasting no time, Stas returned to his office. He carefully placed the bracelet before him and closed his eyes, lost in memories. His fingers involuntarily lingered on one of the links. It was the day the restaurant opened. Valya had been overjoyed, jumping and clapping: “Our restaurant will be the best! We will have no equal competitors!”
Indeed, everything had been going according to plan until one day, a drunken driver crashed into the car carrying Valya and Angelina. Stas slipped the bracelet into his pocket and went out into the main hall. Everything seemed bleak and gloomy. He looked around: the waiters were lazily chatting, Nastya was scribbling something down, and the bartender was blatantly dozing off behind the counter.
“Attention for a moment!” His voice cut through the silence, and the entire staff immediately froze, staring in surprise at the boss who rarely left his office.
“Listen, our restaurant is closing for two days. During that time, we must clean every corner, repair everything broken, and replace what’s about to give out. Check the musical equipment, hire a new DJ—I haven’t seen the old one in a year. Nastya, bring me all the contacts of our suppliers,” he said with a slight smile. “I appreciate that none of you left while I… was away. I promise, we will bring the restaurant back to life. And also—everyone will get a raise and bonuses. Nastya will figure out how to implement an incentive system. I ask all of you—help me start from scratch.”
The waiters murmured their approval, and Nastya handed one of them a sign reading “Closed.”
“I’ll prepare the announcements soon,” Nastya said, then left the office. Stas looked at Igor, who was impatiently shifting from foot to foot.
“You’re the senior, right?” he said. “By this evening, I need a list of everything that must be purchased.”
A few minutes later, there was a knock at the door.
“Come in, Nastya,” said Stas, not taking his eyes off the papers.
She entered and smiled, stopping in front of his desk.
“What if we change the sign?” she asked, leaning toward him. “Maybe it’s time to refresh the restaurant’s image?”
Stas thoughtfully twirled a pen in his hand, then looked up.
“You know, any change now would be for the best,” he replied. “Nastya, may I ask you one question?” He put the pen down and sat on the edge of his desk.
“Of course, go ahead,” she said, shrugging slightly.
“I know the restaurant still exists solely because of you. You held the team together when I was… let’s say, incapacitated. Why are you still here? You’ve been offered jobs elsewhere with better conditions.”
Nastya lowered her eyes, as if pondering the answer. Then she quietly said:
“You weren’t called here for that, were you?”
Stas smiled, but his voice turned serious.
“Alright, we’ll definitely talk about it later. But now… can you find the contact information for the man who wanted to book the anniversary banquet?”
“Of course,” she nodded. “I’m sure we’ll arrange a celebration he won’t forget. He left his details and agreed to wait for a week.”
“Excellent. I need to take care of some documents, and you can go for now.”
Nastya was almost leaving when she suddenly stopped at the door.
“Stas?”
“Yes?”
“Welcome back.”
Her words made him smile. When the door closed, he took the bracelet from his pocket and, gazing at it, whispered:
“Valya, I will do everything just as you wanted. Our restaurant will be the best, I promise.”
Two months later, Stas stepped out of his office and looked around the hall. Today was the anniversary celebration. There were many guests, and every corner of the restaurant was filled with laughter and joy.
“What a full house!” he exclaimed, noticing Nastya. Approaching her, he playfully embraced her. “It’s all thanks to you. You organized everything wonderfully. How did such a treasure come to us?”
Nastya didn’t reply. She looked at him with a strange expression that seemed all too familiar to Stas.
“It can’t be…” he murmured.
Nastya quickly looked away, and within a second, her gaze returned to him as usual. Stas even shook his head, trying to dismiss the strange feeling. Perhaps it was just a trick of his imagination. He didn’t leave his office for the rest of the evening. Memories flooded in: it was Nastya who had introduced him to Valya. They had been friends, but Nastya was always there—helping and supporting them like a guardian angel.
“Stanislav Sergeyevich, may I come in?” Nastya peeked into the office.
“Yes, of course, come in.”
She sat opposite him.
“We’ve almost finished cleaning. Today’s revenue… it’s the highest we’ve ever had. And we even got two bookings from the anniversary guest for upcoming celebrations.”
“That’s wonderful!” Stas exclaimed. But noticing her sad look, he added, “But why do you look so upset?”
Nastya sighed.
“Stas, I want to quit.”
He froze, as if not believing his ears.
“You were there when everything was falling apart, and now that things are getting better, you want to leave?”
She lowered her eyes.
“I was there because you needed support. Now you’ll manage on your own. And also… from the moment we met, I knew I couldn’t bear to see you revert to the old ways when someone else comes into your life.”
Stas silently looked at her, trying to grasp her words. Nastya stood up, still looking at the floor. He realized his suspicions were not unfounded. A wave of heat rushed over him—he didn’t want her to leave. But why? Was it just because she was an irreplaceable colleague, or was it something more?
“Forgive me, Stas. I’m leaving. Here’s the report, and I’ll leave my resignation letter on the administrator’s desk.”
She headed for the exit, but he grabbed her hand.
“Wait! Nastya… maybe we should talk? Not just a few words, but properly, sincerely.”
“I can’t.”
“Nastya, I’m completely confused right now. I don’t want you to leave—and it’s not only because you’re the best employee. There’s something else that troubles me. Yesterday I couldn’t even imagine anyone replacing Valya, and today I realize it’s possible. Please, give me some time to sort out my feelings. Just a couple of months… Don’t leave me now.”
Nastya hesitated, but eventually agreed to stay. However, from that point on, an awkward tension settled between them. She began avoiding him, and the ease of their previous conversations vanished. Soon, Stas realized how much he missed it. A few times he tried to speak to her, but Nastya always skillfully dodged any serious discussion, distancing herself more and more.
“Hey, the boss is looking for you!” someone suddenly called out.
Nastya jumped, not having time to react. At that moment, Stas stepped out into the hall.
“Colleagues, may I have your attention for a moment?” he began. Everyone turned to him. “Since we’ve long ceased to be merely a team and have become a family, I don’t want to hide anything from you. You all know what has happened in my life. Time heals, the pain becomes less acute, and it seems the desire to live reappears.”
The waiters exchanged smiles as they glanced at Nastya. She, however, paled.
“Nastya, I ask you to be my wife. You made me go through all of this; you made me realize that without you, my life is empty.”
Tears welled in her eyes, and she, beaming with happiness, nodded in response.