Mikhail stared intently at the security footage. His restaurant had only been open a month, and hiring security wasn’t yet in the budget. Still, he knew some employees might help themselves to a little extra—some more than others. Everyone had their reasons. But he couldn’t let it jeopardize his business. He’d worked too hard, saved for years to open this place, and everything was going better than expected—until now.
The surveillance system had only been installed three days earlier, and already he’d spotted something troubling. The dishwasher leaving each night with a large bag. It meant she might’ve been doing it all along. Mikhail stood up decisively. It had to be stopped. The girl looked young and modest—didn’t strike him as a thief. But maybe she was hiding more than she let on.
He knew she left by the back door, always last, after the administrator locked up. The door couldn’t be opened from outside, so no one noticed her leaving. It was a perfect setup.
Just in time, Mikhail pulled up near the alley behind the restaurant and waited in silence, lights off.
Inside, Valya gently adjusted a bonnet on her sleeping baby.
“All done for today, sweetheart,” she whispered. “Hang on a little longer. Mommy will get you out soon.”
She double-checked the bag. The air holes were clear. Her daughter would be safe. Feeding had been done, and Angelina was already asleep. Valya knew she was taking a risk. If someone discovered her, they might take the child away. But she had no other choice.
Her milk had dried up, formula was expensive, and the baby’s needs quickly overwhelmed the small benefits she received. A neighbor could only babysit twice a week, and only in exchange for cleaning. When Valya got the job at the new restaurant, she hadn’t imagined how she would manage. But seeing the dish room, an idea formed.
It was risky. Still, with no other option, she tried. Angelina was just a month old when she began hiding her in the supply room. The baby was calm, slept most of the time, and the space was clean and quiet. Valya kept it spotless.
She had no family—raised by a dreamy grandmother who cared little for practical things. Since childhood, Valya had taken care of herself. When Andrey appeared, she fell hard and fast. She offered him her home. The moment he learned about the pregnancy, he vanished, taking everything valuable with him.
She didn’t call the police—ashamed and heartbroken, she shut herself off. Then strangers came, demanding she sell her apartment. When she refused, they threatened her. That day, her milk dried up completely. Reality hit hard.
Work became her lifeline. Weekly pay meant food and some peace. But she feared what might come next. How long could she keep hiding her baby? Lately, doubt crept in.
As she stepped outside with her bag, she froze. Mikhail stood before her.
“Well, well,” he said. “Let’s see what’s in the bag. Theft like that could ruin a place.”
Valya instinctively shielded the bag.
“I’ve never stolen anything. Don’t accuse me.”
“Then prove it,” he said. “Show me.”
Angelina stirred. With a sigh, Valya knelt and opened the bag. Mikhail stared in shock.
“A baby? Are you serious? Is this yours? You work while hiding a child?”
Valya picked up her daughter, holding her close.
“Am I fired?”
He hesitated. “Let me drive you. You live nearby?”
“Just a few blocks.”
“Then I’ll walk you. Give me the bag.”
On the way, Mikhail thought of his own childhood—an alcoholic father, a home filled with chaos. He’d been taken away and given a second chance. If no one had intervened, who knows what he might’ve become.
When they reached her apartment, he followed her up. At the door, she paused, unsure.
“I’d like a cup of tea,” he said.
She nodded. After settling the baby and preparing a small bottle, she joined him. He was already boiling water, having tidied up the kitchen a bit.
“You didn’t have to—”
“Tea’s better in a clean kitchen.”
They sat. The moment she relaxed, tears began to fall. Quiet at first, then uncontrollable.
“Tell me everything,” Mikhail said gently. “From the beginning. All of it.”
Valya spoke. Slowly at first, then faster, releasing months of pain. He listened, silent, eyes downcast, understanding too well what life’s cruelty felt like.
Afterward, he stood.
“Take a couple of days off. I’ll make some calls. We’ll figure something out.”
“For us?” she asked quietly.
“For you and the little one. I can’t turn my back on this.”
That night, he left money on the table. Enough for food and medicine. The next day, Angelina developed a fever. Valya ran to the pharmacy across the street, returned, and was just settling when the doorbell rang.
She assumed it was Mikhail. But at the door stood a smirking man. Two others followed. Uninvited, they entered and spread documents across the table.
“Have you thought about our offer?” the man asked.
“Leave now, or I’ll call the police.”
He laughed. “Go ahead. It’ll only make things worse for your baby.”
She stood her ground, refusing. He named a sum so low she laughed despite the fear.
“That wouldn’t buy a broom closet.”
“You’ll accept it soon. Or lose it all.”
He moved toward her—but stopped short, collapsing. Behind him stood Mikhail.
“Anyone else want to insist she sell?” he asked calmly.
The intruders scattered.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked Valya.
“I didn’t know they’d come back,” she whispered.
“Pack what you need. You’re coming with me.”
She stared at him, unsure.
“My place is safer. I’m rarely home. You and the baby shouldn’t stay here.”
They left. A neighbor peered out.
“Valya, your father come back? Guess I won’t be babysitting anymore.”
Mikhail smiled, white teeth gleaming.
“Thanks for helping,” he said warmly.
The neighbor slammed her door.
At his home, Valya stood in awe of the space. He showed her a large, bright bedroom.
“This will be yours.”
“But isn’t that yours?”
“I’ll take the other. You need the space.”
She hesitated but agreed.
While Mikhail ran errands, Valya made dinner. The kitchen was messy—just coffee mugs everywhere. Soon, she had dinner cooking. The baby gurgled on the couch.
Mikhail returned to the smell of food.
“Wow, I’m starving,” he grinned.
In the hall stood a brand-new crib and stroller, bags of baby clothes stacked neatly.
“I can’t afford this,” Valya said. “I’ll repay you somehow.”
“You won’t. It’s a gift.”
After dinner, they laughed while rearranging furniture. Mikhail made jokes. Valya smiled for the first time in weeks. Even Angelina seemed to giggle.
That night, they lay in separate rooms, unable to sleep. Mikhail realized the house no longer felt empty.
In the morning, over breakfast, he said casually:
“We should get married.”
Valya dropped her knife.
“What?”
“You need protection. The baby needs a father. You can’t keep doing this alone.”
She stared at him, stunned.
“I never imagined being proposed to like this.”
He tried to explain. But before he could speak, Valya leaned forward and kissed him gently. Mikhail froze, overwhelmed.
He picked up his phone.
“Can you manage without me today? I’ve got personal matters. Also—find a new dishwasher. Valya doesn’t work here anymore.”