Before Bani could respond, Susheela turned to her daughter, who had been sitting quietly on the couch, glued to her phone.
"Ramya," Susheela called sharply, "don't just sit there. You should be helping Bani run this place. This bakery has potential, but someone needs to step in. Your mother doesn't even know the names of half the things being sold here. You can help. You should."
Bani's pulse quickened, but she remained composed. "Aunty, I appreciate the thought, but Ramya has her own life and career. This bakery is my passion, something I built with my own hands."
Susheela's smile faltered for a fraction of a second before she recovered, fixing Bani with a pointed look. "Oh, Bani, you're too proud for your own good. You've got this big dream, and I support you, but you can't do it all alone. Your divorce hasn't been easy on you. Do you really think you can manage everything? Running a bakery, handling orders, managing customers—it's a lot for someone like you to juggle. You're still recovering, trying to find your place after everything fell apart."
The words hit deeper than Bani expected. For a brief moment, memories of her broken marriage flickered in her mind. But she steadied herself, refusing to let Susheela see any sign of weakness.
"I've built a strong foundation, Aunty," Bani said, her voice firm. "I'm not some fragile woman in need of saving. I'm moving forward. This bakery is my future. Ramya doesn't need to step in. I've got the right help, and I know exactly what I'm doing."
Susheela's expression soured. "Oh, don't be so dramatic. You may have built this place, but you won't be able to run it forever without proper guidance. Your divorce, the financial strain… you're still struggling, Bani. Don't pretend this bakery is some kind of miracle that will fix everything. You need help, whether you admit it or not."
Bani clenched her fists but forced a smile. "I don't need your help, Aunty. I built this from the ground up. If you or Ramya want to be involved in business, I suggest you find your own opportunities. This bakery is mine, and I will run it my way."
Susheela had a way of twisting every success into an insult.
"Oh, so you've opened a bakery?" she sneered. "Selling biscuits and cakes like a street vendor? After all that education, this is what you've chosen?"
Bani's jaw tightened, but she remained silent.
Susheela continued, relentless. "You really think a small shop near a university will make you rich? What will people say? A divorced woman selling food on the roadside—what a fate!"
The words stung, but Bani refused to let them shake her resolve.
Her father and brother, however, had a different reaction. Though initially skeptical, her father had been impressed by her flower sales. He nodded and said, "At least she's doing something productive. If this works out, it might even help us repay the hotel loan."
Her brother, who had helped with promotions, was more openly supportive. He smiled and said, "Ignore her, Bani. You worked hard, and the launch was a success. Let's focus on making it grow."
But Susheela wasn't done. She scoffed, "Let's see how long this lasts. Businesses like this shut down in months."
Bani had enough. She took a deep breath and, in a calm but sharp tone, replied,
"Even if it fails, I'll start again. At least I have the courage to try—unlike some people who only know how to sit and mock others."
The room fell silent. Susheela fumed, but she had no comeback.
Bani turned and walked to her room, refusing to let negativity pull her down.
That night, as she lay in bed, she made a silent promise to herself—no matter what Susheela said, she would prove her wrong.