"The man you saw just now… he's my younger son," he continued after a pause. "I tried my best to raise him well, to give him a good life. But no matter what I do, he only sees me as an obstacle."
He exhaled sharply, rubbing his face with one hand. "And then there's my elder daughter… She was the responsible one, always understanding, always trying to keep the family together. But life doesn't always reward those who do good, does it?"
She listened intently, her heart heavy with unspoken questions. The pain in the old man's voice was unmistakable. Whatever had happened in his past, it had left behind wounds that never fully healed.
For a moment, silence settled between them, thick with unspoken emotions. The world around them continued as usual—the occasional honk of a vehicle, distant laughter from a nearby group of friends, the rhythmic clinking of teacups from another stall. Yet, in that small corner by the roadside, time seemed to slow down.
Chahat knew there was more to this story. And somehow, she felt that the old man needed someone to listen.
"Uncle," she said softly, "if you'd like to talk… I'm here to listen."
The shopkeeper glanced at her, his lips curving into a small, tired smile.
"Maybe, beta," he murmured. "Maybe it's time someone finally listened."
The old man sat behind the counter of his small shop, his wrinkled hands gripping the wooden surface as if it were the last thing anchoring him to life. The shop had been his sanctuary for decades, a place where he had poured his sweat and years of hard work. It wasn't just a business—it was his lifeline, his identity. And now, his son wanted to take it all away.
He looked down at the little girl playing near the shelves, her tiny hands stacking empty boxes as if building her own little world. His heart ached for her. She had already lost her mother his daughter who had entrusted him with her child before closing her eyes forever. And now, the one person who should have cared for the girl, his own son, was indifferent to her existence.
The old man sighed deeply, his chest heavy with sorrow. "As long as I am alive, he won't treat the little one properly. And if something happens to me..." His voice trembled. "I have no hope that he will ever take care of her. He has no heart for this child."
Lately, his son had been coming around too often, not out of concern for his aging father or the little girl but for the shop. Someone had told him the shop was worth 3,00,000, and now, blinded by greed, he was eager to sell it.