The screech of low-flying military planes outside 62-year-old Maryna Chaykovska’s apartment window in the central Ukrainian city of Kryvyi Rih signalled the end of life as she knew it. It was February 24, 2022, the first day of the Russian invasion.

“My life was divided into before and after,” Chaykovska says, through a translator. “It changed everything.”

Further east, in the large border city of Kharkiv, Oksana Horban woke to the unfamiliar booms of exploding missiles. Confused and shaking in fear, she switched on the television news.

“There was nothing there. I was one of the first to find out,” Horban says. “It was terrifying. I would have never thought something like this would happen in my lifetime.”

Ten minutes later, in the scenic western city of Ternopil, 27-year-old obstetrician Iryna Humenna answered a frantic phone call from her parents. Russia is bombing Ukraine, they said. She didn’t believe it.

“I just went to work. I had patients to look after,” Humenna says.

Within two months she was on a plane, part of the largest displacement of Europeans since World War II.

The three women are among an estimated 8 million people who have fled Ukraine, and they’ll be working at new social enterprise restaurant Kyiv Social, in Chippendale when it opens on October 6.

The restaurant, the fifth from Sydney hospitality group Plate it Forward, will provide employment and free weekly lunches to displaced Ukrainians. For every set menu sold, it plans to donate a meal to someone experiencing food insecurity in Kyiv and in Sydney.

“I’m looking forward to welcoming people [to Kyiv Social], in the same way I used to welcome my friends and family to my home,” Chaykovska says.

“Working here makes me feel as though I’m doing some good for people back in Ukraine, like I can be strong for them.”

Chaykovska, a supervisor at the restaurant, is an overqualified but passionate employee. Like nearly half of all Ukrainian refugees, she has tertiary qualifications. In Kryvyi Rih she worked as a civil engineer and then, after her second degree, as a manager in the financial sector.

Leaving home wasn’t an easy decision, explains Chaykovska. But every day the air raids continued, and every day, Chaykovska’s daughter would call and beg her to come to Sydney, where she’d settled with her husband and two small children.

Chaykovska pauses, becoming emotional as she remembers her daughter’s pleas.

“The war changed the way I saw the world,” she says. “It made me realise I had to focus on what’s important in life: not money, but family.”

Chaykovska had no friends, no job, and no understanding of the language in Australia. But she says it’s never too late to start from scratch.

“I want to set an example for my grandchildren,” Chaykovska says.

Horban packed her life into a single backpack and moved to Australia to be with her fiance, just two weeks after the Battle of Kharkiv began.

“I didn’t want to leave my mum, but she told me to go, she dropped me at the train station. For the first few days, I couldn’t contact them because the Russians had bombed the electricity station.”

World’s away, on Sydney’s north shore, Horban struggled to find a job.

“They all wanted [English-language] references and permanent visas, so that made it hard,” she says.

“It made me depressed because it felt like I couldn’t establish my life here. Kyiv Social has given me a chance.”

The restaurant will serve home-style Ukrainian cuisine, with dishes such as green borscht (a springtime soup with sorrel, dill and creme fraiche); cabbage rolls (filled with porcini mushrooms, celeriac and rice); and chicken Kyiv (crumbed chicken with garlic butter and herbs).

But it’s the varenyky (sour cherry dumplings) that Humenna is most excited for diners to try.

“I want to be able to share Ukrainian food and culture with Australians,” she says. “I’m so thankful for all of their support.”

212 Broadway, Chippendale; kyivsocial.com.au