"I don't know who filled his head with that number," the old man muttered bitterly. "Now, he hovers around like a vulture, waiting to claim it, even while I am still alive. He wants to snatch away my only means of survival."
His fingers curled into fists. "This shop is my hard-earned possession. Until my last breath, he has no right over it."
Chahat sat across from him, listening intently. He nodded slowly. "I understand, Uncle. And I know your son well enough. He won't let you live in peace, nor will he let you run the shop without interference."
The old man leaned back in his chair, exhaustion weighing on his bones. "If I don't run the shop, how will I support myself? How will I take care of my granddaughter?" His voice dropped to a whisper. "Even if I keep the shop, his constant meddling will make it impossible to work. It will be like keeping a hen that no longer lays eggs—useless and burdensome."
Chahat leaned forward, his expression thoughtful. "Uncle, where one door shuts, another opens. If there is a problem, there is always a solution."
The old man gave him a weary look. "And what solution do you see in this mess?"
A small smile played on the man's lips as he rubbed his hands together. "I have a way in which you can keep your shop and continue your business without worrying about your son taking it away."
The old man raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue.
"My offer is simple," the man said. "I will buy the shop for 2,00,000. But instead of taking full ownership, we will have co-ownership. I will hold the major share, meaning your son won't have any claim over it, but you will still be a part of it. Any decisions regarding the shop will include your input. You will continue to work here and support yourself and your granddaughter. And as for your son..."
The old man narrowed his eyes. "What about him?"
"You can show some fake documents stating that you had a 1,00,000 debt, which you repaid using part of the money from the shop's sale. That way, your son won't expect the full amount from you."
Silence settled between them. The old man tapped his fingers against the counter, deep in thought. The idea made sense. It was the only way he could hold onto his livelihood without inviting more trouble from his son.
He looked at the little girl again. Her mother had left her in his care, trusting that he would protect her. He couldn't fail her now.
Slowly, he nodded. "Let's do it."
The man smiled, reaching out his hand. "You won't regret this, Uncle."
The old man clasped it firmly. For the first time in weeks, he felt a small flicker of hope. He was a drowning man, but perhaps, just perhaps, he had found something to hold on to.