Even her brother had stopped eating.
Her father's fingers curled around the edge of his plate, his expression darkening. "That's not a small decision, Bani."
Her mother pressed her lips into a thin line, her face clouded with worry. "Gold is our last safety. If something goes wrong—"
"Dad, you've seen what a miracle the space can do," Bani interrupted, her voice carrying quiet urgency. "I can grow high-quality flowers faster than anyone. If we do this properly, we'll earn enough to get our gold back."
Her father exhaled heavily, his shoulders slumping just a little. He looked down at his plate, as if searching for an answer among the scattered crumbs.
"Still…"
Bani softened her voice, her fingers tracing the rim of her plate. "I know it's a risk. But tell me—isn't every business a risk? We just need a small push. Once we start selling, we won't have to worry so much."
Her mother glanced at her father, a silent conversation passing between them. Doubt. Caution. But also… the quiet longing for relief, for something that might finally work.
Her brother finally spoke, his voice measured. "If she can pull this off, it might actually help us."
Her father let out a deep breath, rubbing his forehead. He stayed quiet for a long moment before finally looking at her again. "You're sure about this?"
Bani's chest tightened. But she nodded. "Yes."
Silence stretched again. The weight of the moment pressed down on all of them.
Then, slowly, her father gave a single nod. "Alright."
Bani let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.
Her mother sighed but didn't argue. That, in itself, was a kind of acceptance.
Her brother smirked. "Hope you know what you're doing."
Bani picked up her half-eaten bajji, grinning as the tension in the room finally loosened. "I do."
The heaviness lifted, replaced by the familiar, comforting sounds of home. The crunch of bajjis. The clink of cups. The murmurs of conversation.
And beneath it all, the quiet hum of something new.
Hope.
Aman was buzzing with excitement. The moment Bani got their father's permission, he wasted no time in reaching out to his circle of friends, asking them to keep an eye out for a suitable vehicle. Within hours, multiple options started pouring in. But Aman, being cautious, wasn't in a rush. He knew that when it came to second-hand vehicles, patience was key. Rushing could lead to a bad deal—overpriced or with hidden issues. He wanted to make sure they got the best value for their money.
Sitting cross-legged on the floor, Aman scrolled through images on his phone, showing different vehicles to Bani.
"I had already told my friends to keep an eye out," Aman admitted with a grin. "Now that we have the green light, I can narrow down the options."
"Look at this one," he said, turning the screen toward her. "It's a Mahindra Bolero Pickup—2018 model, diesel engine. It has run about 1,10,000 kilometers, but the engine condition is still solid. It gives a mileage of around 13 km per liter, which is decent for a commercial vehicle. The body is sturdy, and it's known for handling heavy loads well. The only downside is that the tires might need replacement soon."