"You're beginning to understand," the guardian murmured, its voice both calm and cryptic. "This space does not follow the rules of your world. You can manipulate time for the crops you grow."
Bani's breath caught in her throat. Time? She had suspected it, but hearing it confirmed was overwhelming.
"And the crops here do not require your constant attention," the guardian continued. "With my guidance, they will sustain themselves. The soil here—"
"It never loses fertility," Bani finished, realization dawning on her.
The guardian nodded. "No matter how much you harvest, the land will always remain at its peak."
Bani absorbed every word, her heart pounding with possibilities. If this were true, she wouldn't have to exhaust herself tending to the fields. This wasn't just a farm—it was a world of endless potential.
"You have only scratched the surface," the guardian mused. "This space carries the essence of creation itself. Even cooking here can unlock new possibilities."
Bani frowned. "Cooking?"
"You will see in time," the guardian said mysteriously.
She sighed, knowing her journey had only just begun.
---
That evening, the house was alive with familiar sounds—her father engrossed in his favorite singing competition, her brother half-lost in a freshly uploaded film on OTT. It was a weekend tradition, this quiet comfort of shared space and simple meals.
But tonight, Bani couldn't wait any longer.
She reached for the remote, muting the television.
Her father looked up, mildly startled. "That contestant was singing so well—why did you mute it?"
Bani inhaled deeply, steadying her pulse. "Father, I have something important to say. It's serious."
A hint of concern flickered across his face. "Yes, beta. Speak. There's no need to be anxious."
Her mother and brother turned toward her, sensing the weight in her voice.
"What I want to share… you might not believe it at first," she admitted.
Her brother, previously lounging on his bed, sat up and moved to the living room, settling into the bean bag. Their parents, now fully attentive, waited in silence.
Bani didn't say another word.
Bani takes a deep breath. It's time.
She stretches her hands forward, and—plop!—a bunch of fresh tomatoes fall to the floor.
Father "Wha—?! Where did these come from?!"
Bani doesn't respond. Instead, she raises her hands again. Thud! Plop-plop! Spinach. Thud! A cauliflower rolls to her father's feet.
Mother (gasping, clutching her heart): "Ayyoo! What is happening?! Vegetables are falling out of my daughter!"
Instead, she stretched out her hands toward the empty floor.
And in the blink of an eye, cascade of fresh vegetables appeared out of nowhere.
Tomatoes, carrots, beans, and spinach spilled onto the floor, glistening with life, their colors so vivid they almost seemed to glow.
The room froze.
Her mother clutched the edge of the dining table, her lips parting, struggling to find words. "Bani… what just happened?"
Her father, usually composed, rubbed his eyes, leaning forward as if to confirm that the vegetables were real.
Her brother slowly sat straighter, glancing between Bani and the vibrant produce. "Did… did you just…?" His voice trailed off, too stunned to finish the sentence.