An elderly woman in old, worn clothes walked into an expensive restaurant. At the door, the hostess met her and said in a rude tone:
— Grandma, this is a very expensive restaurant, you can’t afford it.
— I know, I have money, — the woman calmly replied.
They reluctantly seated her at the farthest table, almost by the wall. All the guests sitting at tables with white tablecloths glanced at each other with interest — who was this old lady who dared to come here, where only wealthy people dine? It seemed the very atmosphere of luxury and shine rejected her presence.
When the waiter approached her, the grandmother raised her eyes and quietly asked:
— What is the cheapest thing on your menu?
— I can offer you a vegetable soup, but I think it will be too expensive for you, — he answered with a note of doubt.
— That’s fine, bring me the soup, — she said.
Hearing this conversation, several men at a neighboring table started laughing loudly. Others joined in — someone whispered mockingly, someone crookedly smiled. It was as if a light chuckle of disdain passed through the hall. “A beggar came here just to eat soup among the rich,” they whispered.
But suddenly something unexpected happened, and after that the guests deeply regretted their behavior 
Continuation in the first comment 
The mockery continued until the waiter, a young kind guy, approached the grandmother. He lowered his eyes and quietly said:
— Grandma, I’m sorry, but they’re laughing at you… I’m ashamed of their behavior.
The woman barely smiled and calmly replied:
— It’s alright, son. I don’t pay attention to anyone. My dream is more important.
— What dream? — he asked in surprise.
— When my husband was still alive, we often walked past your restaurant and always dreamed that someday we would have enough money to come in here and order food. He passed away, and I saved a little, just enough to be here at least once…
The waiter froze, unable to respond. Tears glistened in his eyes, but he quickly turned away, pretending to write something in his notebook. The grandmother quietly finished her soup, carefully placed the spoon down, took out an old wallet, and asked for the bill.
— Today I’m paying for your dream, — the waiter said softly, leaning toward her. — And I hope that when I’m old, someone just as kind will be next to me.
The hall, where mocking whispers had recently been heard, fell silent. People looked away, ashamed of their behavior.
And the grandmother simply thanked him, smiled, and slowly walked out of the restaurant, leaving behind a warm silence in which, for the first time that evening, one could hear the beating of a human heart.
