(Ashburn's POV)
It had been weeks since I last breathed without a checklist in my head. The third branch had finally opened near Sami's school, and the supermarket conversion was already running smoother than I'd expected. Deliveries were flowing, shelves full, and customers kept returning — some of them even called me "sir" now. I never thought that title would fit me.
Even the machines for the snack factory had arrived in the suburbs. The workers were setting them up — the clang of steel, the hum of progress — it all felt unreal. Sometimes, while driving between shops, I caught myself staring at the city skyline, thinking how just a year ago, I was managing a single counter in a dusty street. Now… it was a chain, a name people recognized.
That evening, as I sat reviewing accounts at home, my mother walked in, arms crossed, wearing that half-serious smile she saved for lectures.
"Beta," she said, "your business is growing, mashallah, but your clothes aren't. Look at you — same shirt, same shoes. You need to look like a man who owns something."
I laughed, scratching the back of my head. "Mom, people come for prices, not my shoes."
She raised an eyebrow. "People also come for respect, Ashburn. You should go out tomorrow. Relax, buy yourself something decent. Take those girls with you too — they've been helping you day and night."
I sighed but nodded. Maybe she was right. I'd been buried in receipts long enough to forget how sunlight felt.
That night, I texted both Kainat and Aisha.
> "Let's go out tomorrow — lunch, park, maybe some shopping. You two deserve a break too."
Kainat replied with a cheerful,
> "Finally! I thought you turned into a machine."
Aisha's response was colder but caring.
> "You remembered we exist. I'll come."
I chuckled. They were so different, yet somehow both felt close to my heart.
---
The next morning, the sun shone bright over Ashrock City's dunes. I had rented a black sedan for the day — sleek, comfortable, and far from my usual delivery van. When I stopped by Kainat's house first, she came out in a soft lavender dress with a white shawl, her smile brighter than morning light.
"You look nice," I said, unlocking the door for her.
She grinned. "Finally, you noticed."
Next was Aisha — crisp, sky-blue kurta, simple makeup, hair tied neatly. She opened the door, only to pause when she saw Kainat sitting in the front seat.
"Front seat already taken?" she asked flatly.
Kainat smirked. "First come, first sit."
I raised my hands in mock surrender. "Okay, okay. We'll switch every stop. Happy?"
Both looked away at the same time, muttering a faint "Fine." I couldn't help but smile. Managing two businesses was easier than managing these two.
---
Lunch was at a small riverside café. The place was quiet, with the faint scent of grilled chicken and lemon tea in the air.
Kainat ordered something sweet — she always did — while Aisha dissected the menu like a financial report.
"Everything's overpriced," she said.
"That's what makes it taste better," I teased.
Kainat giggled. "Let him treat us for once, Aisha. He's rich now!"
I coughed. "Not rich — reinvesting."
But the laughter between bites felt good, unhurried. For the first time in months, I wasn't thinking about stock rotations or delivery timings. Just them.
---
After lunch, we headed to the amusement park. The air was alive with shouts, rides, and that scent of fried snacks that clings to your clothes. Kainat pulled me toward the ring-toss game.
"If you win, you owe me that teddy," she said, pointing at the biggest one.
"And if I lose?"
"Then I'll still take it."
Aisha folded her arms. "You're wasting time."
"Not wasting," I said, tossing the first ring — it missed. The second one too.
Kainat's laughter echoed.
Then the third — perfect shot. The ring landed, and the booth boy handed me the plush toy. I turned, handing it to Aisha.
Her eyes widened. "You were supposed to win it for her."
"I'll win another one," I said, winking. "Fair business policy."
Kainat pretended to pout but smiled anyway.
Later, we tried the Ferris wheel. The city stretched wide beneath us, the desert fading into gold at the horizon. Kainat's hand brushed mine — soft, shy.
"I'm proud of you," she said quietly.
Aisha, sitting on my other side, added after a pause, "Just don't lose focus. You've built something worth protecting."
I looked at both of them and said, "I won't. Not anymore."
---
As evening came, we headed toward the shopping district. My mother's words echoed in my head — dress like you own something.
I bought a navy-blue formal shirt, a dark blazer, and new shoes. Aisha picked them for me — efficient, practical choices.
For her, I chose a sky-colored silk scarf she kept glancing at but didn't buy.
For Kainat, a set of silver bangles that caught the light whenever she moved.
"You shouldn't have," Kainat said softly.
"I wanted to," I replied.
---
By the time we finished dinner at a rooftop restaurant, the city lights glimmered below us like a sea of gold. The night air was calm, almost poetic.
Kainat leaned her head slightly on my shoulder. Aisha sat across, her eyes softer than usual, watching us quietly.
"Today was nice," she said. "Different."
"Yeah," I said, staring at the horizon. "Sometimes it's good to step away and see how far we've come."
---
The drive home was silent — peaceful. Halfway back, both of them dozed off. I looked at them through the mirror — one smiling in her sleep, the other resting her head against the window.
Maybe success wasn't just the number written in my ledger. Maybe it was this — the sound of quiet breathing beside me, the peace after the storm.
For once, the city lights didn't remind me of targets and totals.
They reminded me of hope.