After a long pause, he finally spoke. His voice was softer now, cautious but steady. "All right," he said, nodding slightly. "I don't fully understand, Bani. But I need you to know… we'll figure this out together. This—" he glanced at the vegetables again, still struggling to process their impossible existence, "—this is big. But you don't have to handle it alone."
His words settled something in Bani. She nodded, grateful for his measured response, even as she knew this was only the beginning. The weight of her secret had shifted, but the road ahead was far from simple. What this revelation meant for her family—how it would change everything—remained unanswered.
Bani nodded. "I do. I have seen what this land can do. It can grow crops faster than anything we know. Imagine if we use it wisely—we can pay off the debts, help our hotel, and finally have some stability."
Her father remained silent for a long moment, Bani could see the conflict in his eyes—the hesitation, the doubt, but also the small flicker of hope.
Father, can we use these rice and vegetables for the hotel tomorrow?" she asked, her voice gentle yet firm.
She took a deep breath and stepped closer. "I know it's hard to believe. But at least let us try. Give me a little time. If I'm wrong, we'll walk away. But if I'm right... this could change everything for us."
Her father sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Alright," he finally said. "But Bani, if we're going to do this, we have to be careful.
I know father. Bani said.
Her father looked up, his tired eyes falling on the neatly arranged produce. There was a moment of silence before he reached out and picked up a tomato, inspecting it with curiosity. The skin was smooth, firm, and fresh, as if it had just been plucked from the vine moments ago.
Her father nodded slowly, still examining the vegetables. He didn't question her further. Instead, he set the tomato down and leaned back in his chair. "These look good. In the morning, I'll take them with me when we go to the hotel."
Father "I'll keep them in a big tray so you can carry them easily," she said, moving quickly to arrange the vegetables. As she placed them neatly, she felt a small sense of satisfaction. She wasn't just contributing to the business—she was taking another step toward securing her independence.
Tomorrow, her produce would be served to customers. It wasn't just food; it was proof that she was capable, that she could stand on her own. And that, to Bani, meant everything.
Next day
The sun had barely kissed the horizon when Bani's father and brother left for the hotel early that morning. The air was crisp, and there was a calm sense of anticipation hanging over the kitchen. The previous night, after an evening of hushed conversations and whispered plans, Bani's brother, Aman, had prepared something special—today's menu would showcase the fresh vegetables grown in Bani's magical space.