The blast came without warning. A Russian missile ripped through a cluster of townhouses on the edge of Kyiv, tearing facades from nearby apartment blocks and scattering debris across the streets like lumps of confetti.

The neighborhood was left stunned by the destruction. But within hours early Monday, it was transformed again — this time by volunteers who rushed in to stitch life back together.

Tractors and earth movers were used to clear rubble while neighbors hammered in particle boards and pieces of tarp over broken windows. Smashed glass was constantly carried away in paint buckets.

From kitchens still intact, families carried donated bags of beetroot, potatoes and onions. They cooked batches of steaming borscht to feed those suddenly without stoves. The chaos has become a familiar kind of choreography: hauling, sweeping, stirring.

At the center of the effort was a basement café with a hopeful name, “You Too,” that doubles as a bomb shelter and neighborhood refuge.

Its owner, 38-year-old Svitlana Shtanko, dragged mattresses onto the floor, offered teddy bears as beds for children, and laid out pancakes, cold cuts and sweets for residents, some still bandaged for glass cuts. “It was terrible, very loud, very frightening,” she said, her hair streaked in bright colors. “Thank God the people here went downstairs. If they had stayed in their apartments, they would not have survived.”

By morning, the café had become a hub of recovery. Strangers streamed in with food, essentials, even offers of spare apartments. “It was like an anthill,” Shtanko said. “Everyone is moving, helping, doing something. Some cooked, some sealed broken windows, others just hugged people who were in shock.”

Her own volunteer work has grown since Russia’s full-scale invasion began in February 2022. “When alarms sound, some panic, others act,” she said. “Those who act help those who panic. Together, they make it through.”

For Oksana and Mykola Pastukh, that help is all that remains. The couple, aged 58 and 67, respectively, had just bought a townhouse — one week before it was gutted by the missile blast.

“We no longer have a house,” Oksana said. “What we do have are debts to the bank, and that is frightening.” They spoke with gratitude for the neighbors and strangers who offered food, guidance and shelter.

Alona Kiliarova, who lives nearby, recalled the predawn attack. “Everything was on fire. The missile was very low. Drones flew until 9 a.m. And so many people came to help. They were incredible.”

For Shtanko, the answer to why Ukrainians show up for one another is simple. “Maybe it’s in our genes: not to walk past someone in trouble,” she said. “The most important thing is that people know they’re not alone. That’s why we created this place: so anyone can sit, have coffee, even without money, just to take a breath and carry on.” ___

Associated Press journalists Evgeniy Maloletka and Dmytro Zhyhinas contributed to this report.

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