A desperate orphan with a suitcase knocked on the door of a restaurant. The owner was stunned when he learned her last name.
“You will become the brightest star, the most talented of them all. You will be noticed, and your name will appear on every poster.”
Sofia cried, burying her face in the blanket covering her father. His hand, weak but still warm, stroked her hair.
“Don’t cry, my girl, don’t. You can’t fool fate. Listen to me, please,” he whispered.
Sofia lifted her tear-streaked face. Her father spoke in a barely audible voice, as though each word was a struggle:
“Just don’t interrupt. I have no strength left… There used to be two of us — Mikhail and I, Grigory. We were inseparable friends, we even swore by blood that our friendship would last forever. And then your mother came along. We both fell in love with her. You see, when love comes between people, friendship often takes a back seat. Your mother chose me, and Mikhail couldn’t come to terms with it.
But he’s a wonderful person. If things get really hard for you, you can turn to him. He won’t abandon you. He now owns the ‘Breeze’ restaurant. Remember this, Sofia. One day, it might save you. There’s more, but if he wants, he’ll tell you himself…
Remember: I love you with all my heart, I believe in you, and I know you’ll manage.”
Sofia hugged her father tightly, and suddenly his body tensed, then went limp.
“Dad! Dad!” Her scream echoed through the room.
They pulled her away from the bed. The doctors were running around frantically, but Sofia watched the scene as if from a distance. One thought kept spinning in her mind: “I am alone. I am completely alone in this world.”
The next day, after the wake, when the guests had left, the stepmother gave Sofia a cold look:
“Tomorrow, go find a job. I’m not going to feed you.”
“But I’m studying…”
“Studying, huh!” the stepmother mocked. “You won’t get full on songs. If you don’t find a job, you’ll be out on the street. Got it?”
“But this is my home!”
The stepmother jumped up, her eyes flashing:
“What? Your home? Ha! This is my home. I’m your father’s lawful wife. So shut up. And know this: I’m being nice right now. But I can be different.”
Sofia ran out of the room, slamming the door behind her. She cried all night, holding a photo of her father. By morning, she decided: her father had left enough money for her to finish her studies and try to fulfill his dream.
He had always wanted Sofia to sing. Since childhood, she had won competitions. Her teachers said it was hard to break through, but even if she didn’t, her voice would always feed her.
“Just imagine: anyone who hears your name — Sofia Grigoryeva — will never forget it,” they told her.
She smiled. Yes, her father had tried. She wasn’t just Grigoryeva, she was also Grigoryevna.
In the morning, Sofia got ready and went to class. She tried to be quiet so as not to wake the stepmother. She would study. No matter what. Her father had wanted that.
When she returned, she saw her stepmother on the porch. Sofia slowed down, hoping she would leave, but the stepmother stood there, not taking her eyes off Sofia.
“Well, did you find a job?”
“I was at school.”
Sofia tried to walk past, but the stepmother blocked her path.
“School, huh? You want to be a singer?” She put her hands on her hips. “What kind of singer are you? Your voice sounds like rusty hinges, you’re not smart enough. With your looks, you’ll be washing floors, not climbing on stage. I warned you.”
The stepmother pulled out a suitcase and a bag.
“Here, take your things and get out. Go sing in the subway, scare passersby. Maybe they’ll give you something.”
Sofia looked at the suitcase with wide eyes, but the stepmother went into the house and slammed the door. Sofia heard the locks click. She grabbed her things and ran out of the yard.
“God, please, let no one see this. Let Dad have peace where he is now!”
Sofia walked down the street, dragging the suitcase. There were no more tears, no more thoughts. She had no relatives. Her father and mother had both been orphans. She didn’t know what to do.
It was getting dark outside. She stopped. In front of her was the “Breeze” restaurant. The one her father had talked about. There was no other choice. She approached the door and knocked.
Mikhail himself answered. He was tall, with streaks of gray in his hair. His face, etched by the years, seemed to tighten the instant he looked at Sofia. He noticed the suitcase, and for a moment, he could barely speak.
“What’s your name?” he managed.
“Sofia,” she whispered, gazing at him. “Sofia Grigoryeva.”
He blinked rapidly, as if trying to stop tears. “Grigory’s daughter,” he muttered. “Yes… you have your father’s eyes.”
He paused, then stepped aside. “Come in. I was just about to close up.”
Sofia entered the quiet restaurant, which smelled of baking bread and fresh herbs. Tables were lined neatly with chairs turned upside down on them. It was closing time, and most of the staff seemed to have gone home. A single waiter was sweeping the floor near the back.
“How do you know my father?” Sofia asked. “He passed away, and before he died…” Her voice wavered. “He said I could come to you for help.”