Evening traffic filled the busy streets of the city.

Myra Singhania drove her sleek black car confidently through the crowded road. Her expression was calm, focused, as always.

Beside her sat Daksh Singhania, looking outside the window quietly.

For a few minutes, the car moved in silence.

Suddenly—

THUD!

A loud sound hit the car.

Myra slammed the brakes.

“What the hell?!” she snapped.

A stone had hit the side of her car.

Daksh looked toward the street and noticed a group of people standing nearby. Their faces were tense… angry.

Some of them were whispering among themselves.

Myra opened the car door angrily and stepped out.

“Who threw that?” she demanded sharply.

No one answered.

But an elderly man stepped forward slowly.

His voice was tired yet firm.

“You shouldn’t take our homes.”

Daksh frowned slightly.

“Our homes?” he repeated.

Another man spoke up angrily.

“You people think money can buy everything!”

Myra’s eyes narrowed.

“What are you talking about?”

A young man pointed toward her.

“The land you’re buying! The settlement near the old market!”

Daksh’s heart sank.

Myra didn’t look surprised.

Instead, she crossed her arms calmly.

“Oh… that.”

Her tone was almost indifferent.

“You’ll all be given flats,” she said. “Better homes than the ones you live in now.”

The crowd grew restless.

“This place is our life!” a woman cried.

“Our children grew up here!”

Another man shouted,

“You can’t just erase our homes for your mall!”

Daksh slowly turned toward Myra.

“A mall?” he asked quietly.

Myra didn’t look guilty.

“Yes.”

She looked directly at the people.

“I’m building Singhania Grand Mall there.”

Daksh felt a heavy weight settle in his chest.

Now he understood everything.

These people weren’t just protesting.

They were terrified of losing their home.

The elderly man spoke again.

“You may give us flats… but you cannot give us our memories.”

For the first time, Daksh looked deeply troubled.

But Myra simply turned toward the car.

“This conversation is over.”

She opened the door and sat back inside.

Daksh hesitated for a moment before joining her.

The car drove away.

But the tension remained inside the vehicle.

----------------------------------------------------------

Myra’s POV

People are so dramatic.

I’m literally giving them better homes.

But no… they want to hold on to broken houses and narrow streets.

Development always faces resistance.

I expected this.

And honestly?

It won’t stop me.

Later That Evening........

Daksh sat alone in his office, the scene replaying in his mind.

The anger in those people’s eyes.

The sadness in the old man’s voice.

He finally opened the project file that had been placed on his desk earlier.

Property details.

Construction plans.

"Project Name: Singhania Grand Mall"

Daksh closed his eyes briefly.

“Myra…” he sighed.

His daughter wasn’t wrong from a business perspective.

But life wasn’t only about business.

Sometimes… humanity had to come first.

Night......

Daksh left the office later than usual.

His thoughts felt heavy as he drove through the city.

Eventually, his car stopped near a small roadside dhaba.

The smell of fresh food filled the air.

Daksh stepped out of the car.

And then he noticed something familiar.

Near the stove stood a man cooking food while talking warmly with a few workers.

Daksh recognized him instantly.

It was the same kind man he had seen at the temple feeding homeless children.

The man looked up and smiled politely.

“Namaste,” he said.

Daksh nodded.

“Namaste.”

The man wiped his hands and gestured toward a chair.

“Please sit. Food will be ready in a few minutes.”

Daksh sat down quietly.

Watching the man cook with simple dedication.

Something about his calm presence felt different.

Peaceful.