The morning sun rose over the edge of Ashrock City, scattering gold across the fields beyond its limits. The air smelled different out here — clean, earthy, with the faint sweetness of ripening crops. Ashburn leaned slightly out of the car window, eyes following the unpaved road ahead. Dust trailed behind them, twisting into the breeze.
Beside him, Kainat flipped through her notepad, glancing now and then at the passing scenery. "We've covered the southern belt," she said softly. "Today we'll check the east — the smaller villages just ten, maybe fifteen kilometers from the city border."
Ashburn nodded. "Let's keep the visits short but thorough. I want to understand how things move here — not just what they buy, but how they live."
The first stop was a place called Dhara, a quiet village wrapped between fields of sugarcane. The road cut through its center like a narrow ribbon, lined with wooden stalls and faded signboards. A few children ran barefoot past the car as they parked near a small general store.
The shopkeeper, a man in his forties with sun-tanned skin, greeted them with a cautious smile. Ashburn introduced himself simply — a supplier from the city, looking to understand local needs. Within minutes, the conversation turned practical.
"Supplies come once every two weeks," the shopkeeper said, scratching his beard. "Mostly from the Ashrock bazaar. Transport's costly. Half the time, the goods arrive late or spoiled."
Ashburn listened quietly, taking notes. "If we could deliver directly," he said, "with fair pricing and small bulk quantities, would you consider shifting part of your stock to us?"
The man's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "Depends on the reliability."
"We'll earn that," Ashburn replied, his tone calm but certain. "And I'll include a few of our snack packets — roasted lentils, puffed rice, peanuts. You can test the local response before committing."
The man nodded slowly, half-smiling. "People here love something new with evening tea. If it's good, word spreads fast."
They spent another half hour in Dhara, talking with locals and tasting a few homemade fried snacks offered by an elderly woman sitting by her stall. Kainat smiled, taking a small bite. "This is better than half the city bakeries," she whispered.
Ashburn chuckled. "Maybe we'll learn a recipe or two."
The next stop was Kohri, a slightly larger village surrounded by wheat fields. The narrow paths were alive with the sound of animals and distant chatter. They parked near a cluster of huts where a young boy was repairing his bicycle. Kainat crouched beside him, offering a gentle smile. "That's a good job. Where did you learn to fix it?"
The boy grinned shyly. "From my uncle. He says if you can fix wheels, you'll never stay hungry."
Ashburn watched them, his usual business focus softening. There was something grounding about the simplicity around him — the rhythm of life here, slow but steady.
They met another shopkeeper, this one a woman running a small provision stall out of her home. She accepted Ashburn's offer for trial supplies almost immediately. "If you're giving them on credit," she said, "I'll try a few dozen packs. If they sell, I'll order more."
"Done," Ashburn replied, his tone easy. "No rush for returns — first, we test the market."
As the afternoon wore on, they stopped by a field where farmers rested under a tree. One of them waved them over, offering a clay cup of lassi. Ashburn hesitated, then accepted with a smile. The drink was cool and thick, the kind that carried the taste of effort and soil.
"You city people always look tired," the farmer said, grinning.
Ashburn laughed quietly. "You're not wrong. But it's a good kind of tired."
Kainat glanced at him sideways. She could see the faint exhaustion in his face — the way he rubbed the bridge of his nose when the sun grew harsh, the subtle slump in his shoulders when he thought she wasn't looking.
"You need rest," she said softly once they were back in the car.
He shook his head. "Not yet. We're building something that needs to last. These people — they're the real test of our reach."
She smiled faintly. "And what about you? You're not a machine, Ashburn."
For a moment, his eyes met hers — tired, but warm. "I know," he said quietly. "That's why I have you here."
The air between them shifted, gentle but unspoken. The road ahead shimmered in the sunlight as they drove toward the next small settlement, Rana Ghat. There, they shared tea with a family who owned a roadside stall, laughing over stories of customers and supply troubles. Kainat took pictures for records; Ashburn listened more than he spoke, observing patterns, voices, and moods.
By the time they returned to the city, twilight had stretched across the sky. The villages behind them glowed faintly under the last orange light.
Kainat leaned her head lightly against the seat, watching Ashburn drive in silence. His face was calm but pale, fatigue settled deep in his eyes.
"You're pushing too hard," she murmured.
He smiled faintly. "Only until the structure's strong enough to stand on its own."
She sighed, half in worry, half in admiration. Outside, the city lights grew brighter — the border between urban ambition and rural simplicity fading behind them.
That night, when Ashburn finally parked outside the office, he stayed in the car for a while, eyes closed, breathing in the faint scent of dust and sugarcane that still clung to his shirt. His mind replayed the faces, the voices, the small promises made that day.
This wasn't just about profit anymore. It was about connection — stitching city and village into one living network.
He whispered softly to himself, "Step by step… we'll make it reach everyone."
And under the quiet night sky, with Kainat still beside him, the journey toward that vision had truly begun.