The weeks after the TownMart batch passed felt like someone had pressed fast-forward on Ashburn's life. The orders kept coming in steady waves, and the third month of the evaluation drew closer with a constant hum of activity. New shops were being finalized, teams handled deliveries, and Faraz's updates arrived almost every evening. Yet in the middle of all this expansion, there was a strange pause one afternoon—an unexpected breathing space.
Kainat found him leaning against the railing of the small balcony outside his office, staring at the city that stretched past the horizon.
"You're thinking too much again," she said softly, joining him.
Ashburn smiled without looking away. "Maybe. It still feels unreal sometimes. All this… the orders, the shops, the whole Business running under me."
"You worked for it," she replied, nudging his arm.
He glanced at her, amused. "And now I'm running it".
She laughed, then her tone softened. "But you're also changing. Not the wrong kind of change… just growth. You're becoming the version of yourself you always wanted to be."
Her words settled inside him, deep and quiet. He thought back to the beginning—the small shop, the daily struggles, the worry about rent, the pressure of responsibilities. Now he stood here with multiple shops, a regional office, vans, delivery cycles, workers who trusted him, and a net worth crossing ten million. He wasn't rich yet, not in the grand scheme of things, but he was far from the boy who struggled to survive.
Kainat squeezed his arm once more and left for a meeting. Ashburn stayed there a moment longer, letting the realization sink in.
That evening, he decided something simple: he would improve his family's life. Not slowly. Not in steps. Immediately.
The next morning marked the beginning of a silent renovation. He didn't announce anything. He just arrived home early and stood in the living room with a quiet smile. His mother looked confused at first—and then the workers arrived with paint buckets, new curtains, rolled carpets, and boxes of furniture.
"Ashburn… what is this?" she asked.
"Just making life a little more comfortable," he replied.
New gentle cream-colored paint covered the walls within two days. Modern curtains replaced the old ones, and soft lighting fixtures warmed the entire house. The living room gained a new sofa set, a polished wooden center table, and small indoor plants that Aisha had helped him select. Solar panels were installed on the roof, and new inverters removed the fear of power cuts. Fans and ACs were updated. The kitchen received digital appliances his mother had never even imagined using.
His parents' room was handled personally. A calm blue tone, new wardrobes, an orthopedic mattress, a compact TV, and small decorative items that made the place feel like a fresh start. When he handed his father the keys to a small, clean car for personal use, the old man went quiet for a full minute before tears threatened to fall.
"Ash… this is too much."
"No," Ashburn said softly. "This is the bare minimum for everything you've done for me."
His father didn't argue after that.
For his siblings, he transformed their rooms as well—brighter colors for Amina, new shelves packed with books, a small study table, and a tablet for learning games. For Sami, who loved gadgets, Ashburn gave a simple but powerful laptop, a sturdy study desk, and organized storage so he could focus on schoolwork. The boy hugged him so tightly that Ashburn laughed and almost lost balance.
With the rearranged family dynamics came another shift—his father began driving the two younger kids to school daily. A small responsibility, but one he wore proudly, like a badge.
Ashburn's own room changed too. He kept it simple but clean: modern lighting, organized shelves, a comfortable bed, and a PC setup for planning and late-night system work. He bought himself a new phone, a laptop, and a tablet—tools for progress, not luxury.
But there were small luxuries too. A set of good-looking watches, a few stylish shirts, and better shoes. He no longer avoided mirrors—he looked healthier, sharper, more grounded.
Aisha noticed first. "You're taking care of yourself now," she said with a smile. "Good. You deserve it."
That small approval pushed him further. He joined a gym nearby, signed up for morning sessions, and hired a personal trainer once a week. He wasn't planning to become muscular—just strong, disciplined, and healthy. For the first time in years, he actually felt like he had control over his body, not just his business.
But the real adventure came unexpectedly.
Aisha told him he needed a proper haircut and grooming session, not the usual old-barber quick trim he always took. She insisted, and somehow Kainat joined too. He didn't even know how he ended up standing inside a sleek grooming lounge, staring at shelves filled with creams, oils, and hair products he couldn't name.
Aisha whispered, "Stop looking like a scared kid."
"I'm not scared," he said—then flinched when a stylist approached holding a steaming towel.
Kainat covered her mouth to hide a laugh, and Aisha smirked openly. "Relax, Ash. They aren't going to kill you."
The stylist guided him to a reclining chair. When the hot towel covered his face, Ashburn grabbed the sides of the chair like a man bracing for impact. The girls burst into laughter. Even the stylist chuckled.
"You act like it's torture," Aisha teased.
"It kind of is," he muttered from under the towel.
But by the end, he looked genuinely refreshed. His hair was shaped, his beard was neatly lined, and his overall appearance felt… polished. Aisha's eyes lingered longer than usual when she looked at him, and that alone made the embarrassment worth it.
They ended the evening with dinner—just the three of them, warm lights, soft music, and a sense of calm that felt earned. Their relationship deepened quietly, naturally. Aisha leaned against him more often now. Kainat held his arm without hesitation. He responded with small gifts—clothes they liked, accessories, late-night dessert runs, and walks under streetlights where conversations stretched effortlessly.
Even with all the business pressure, Ashburn finally felt like he was living, not just surviving.
And the best part was—this was only the beginning.