She glanced at the clock. Six in the morning. Normally, she would freshen up, sip on some tea, and ease into the day. But today, an unshakable pull urged her toward the space.
Stepping through, she was greeted by the familiar glow of her secret world. The scent of fresh soil and morning dew filled the air, wrapping around her like a whisper of welcome. But something was different.
Something was wrong.
Her breath hitched as her eyes swept over the field.
The crops—
They had grown. Not just sprouted, but flourished.
Tomato vines stretched toward the sky, already bearing clusters of green fruit. Spinach leaves sprawled, lush and thick, as if a month had passed overnight. Carrot greens swayed gently, their roots surely well-formed beneath the earth. Even the cauliflower plants, which should have taken months, stood halfway through their cycle.
Beans, once mere seeds, had sent out twisting tendrils, reaching for something unseen. In the far corner, the rice paddies shimmered under the soft golden light, their tiny shoots swaying as if whispering among themselves. And even the Toor Dal—the slowest of them all—had pushed past its fragile beginnings.
Her heart pounded. This... wasn't normal.
She knelt, running her fingers through the soil. It was real, damp with morning dew. No illusion, no trick of the mind. The plants were thriving at an impossible speed.
Was this the true nature of the space?
Determined to understand, she called out, "Guardian?"
A soft glow shimmered in the air, rippling like water, before the Space Guardian emerged, its form shifting like a mirage.
"The crops..." Bani gestured around her, still stunned. "They've grown too fast. It hasn't even been a day!"
The Guardian's expression remained serene. "Time flows differently here, Master."
Bani frowned. "How differently?"
"In this space, one day equals thirty days in your world. The crops are growing according to that time."
Her breath caught. That meant—everything she planted would be ready thirty times faster than normal.
She had known this space was special, but this... this was beyond anything she had imagined. In just a few days, she could harvest what should have taken months.
Tomatoes in two days.
Carrots in three.
Spinach in one.
Cauliflower in four.
Beans in three.
Basmati rice in four.
Toor dal in six.
A shiver ran down her spine—not from fear, but from realization.
If she played this right... she could turn her life around.
Bani stepped out of the space, freshened up, and made her way downstairs. The faint scent of spices drifted through the air, wrapping her in a cocoon of warmth. As she entered the kitchen, the rhythmic clinking of utensils and the gentle sizzle of a pan greeted her.
Her mother was already at work, moving with practiced ease, her hands shaping chapatis while the rich aroma of gojju—a tangy, spiced vegetable curry—filled the small kitchen.
Good morning, Mom," Bani greeted softly.
Her mother looked up, her face brightening with a smile. "Good morning, dear! Breakfast is almost ready. I'm making chapatis and gojju—your favorite."