Ashburn stood at the edge of the newly rented building in Faisazabad, the place that would soon serve as the city's small regional office and cold storage. The structure wasn't impressive from the outside, but the size was right, the ventilation was good, and most importantly, it sat in a part of the city that connected easily to all major neighborhoods. He walked around the interior with Faraz and two supervisors, inspecting walls, storage layout, loading access, and the placement of cooling units.
"It will work," Ashburn said after a long moment of quiet evaluation. "Not perfect, but workable. We'll refine things slowly once the structure is running."
Faraz nodded, already taking notes. "Shall I start arranging the installation crew for the refrigeration units?"
"Yes," Ashburn replied. "And coordinate with the electrician about power load. I don't want surprises once the storage starts functioning."
The team dispersed to handle their tasks, while Ashburn remained behind for a few minutes. He didn't speak; he simply took in the empty space, imagining the flow of goods, the movement of workers, the check-ins, the dispatches. He had done this in Ashrock and Bahawalnagar too. Every city had a rhythm, and he tried to understand it before stepping into expansion.
The next few days were filled with a steady, methodical pace of work. Ashburn met with contractors, checked measurements, evaluated two potential shop locations, and discussed broader expansion plans with his team both in person and over video calls. They debated which neighborhood should host the first shop. One area had higher foot traffic, while the other connected better with future route plans.
"We should choose the place closer to the main road," Faraz argued. "Delivery efficiency will improve automatically."
"But foot traffic has its own weight," Kainat said from the call. "Visibility means faster establishment."
Ashburn listened quietly to both sides. His eyes stayed on the digital map open in front of him. "We'll go with the main road," he said eventually. "Faisazabad is smaller than Bahawalnagar. Word spreads fast here even without perfect visibility. The road network gives us more flexibility for future branches."
Everyone agreed, and the decision was locked in. The first shop would open in the sixth month, but the groundwork had to start now. Lease agreements, minor renovations, initial interior planning—everything would follow in a clean sequence. He knew expansion wasn't about speed; it was about stability. Rushing created weak foundations, and he refused to allow a single weak link in the chain he was building.
Later that week, after returning from Faisazabad, Ashburn finally found a moment to breathe at home. He entered the living room, finding Sami sprawled on the sofa playing something on his phone, while Amina noisily sorted through homework nearby. His father, Mr. Khan, sat resting after a long day at the shop.
"You're home early today," his father noted with a faint smile.
Ashburn shrugged lightly. "Not early. Just didn't extend meetings this time."
His mother appeared from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her dupatta. She looked tired—but that wasn't unusual. She handled most house responsibilities herself out of habit, even when others tried to help.
"Come eat, Ashburn," she said warmly.
He washed his hands and joined the family at the table. It was simple—rice, chicken curry, salad—but he enjoyed moments like these more than he admitted. They talked casually: Sami complained about a friend's mischief, Amina asked random questions, and Mr. Khan updated him on minor shop issues.
Ashburn listened, relaxed, feeling the comfort of family. These were moments he rarely allowed himself to enjoy fully, but whenever he did, they grounded him.
The next morning started like any other, but by noon everything shifted. His mother had been cleaning the storeroom when she suddenly felt dizzy. A fever followed soon after.
"Ashburn, your mother isn't feeling well," his father said hurriedly. "She's burning up."
He rushed home immediately. She was lying on the bed, breathing heavily, her face pale. He sat beside her, checking her forehead. It was warm—too warm.
"You should have told me earlier," he said softly.
"I thought it would pass," she whispered weakly. "It was nothing… just tiredness."
But he didn't want to take chances.
"I'll call Dr. Sara," he said, already dialing. She was one of Bahawalnagar's more competent general physicians, known for being calm and methodical.
When she arrived half an hour later, she entered professionally but with a gentle manner. She checked Mrs. Khan's vitals, examined her throat, listened to her breathing, and asked detailed questions about her routine.
"She's overworking herself," Dr. Sara said finally. "There's a viral infection too, but exhaustion is worsening it."
Ashburn stood silently, arms crossed, listening intently.
"You'll need to rest properly," Dr. Sara continued, addressing his mother. "No heavy house tasks for at least a week. Plenty of fluids, proper meals, and the medication I'm prescribing. Someone else must handle the chores for now."
Mrs. Khan tried to protest. "Doctor, I can manage most things. I'm just tired, nothing else—"
"No," Dr. Sara said firmly. "This is not optional. You need proper care."
Ashburn exhaled quietly, relieved someone said it bluntly.
He walked outside with Dr. Sara after the checkup. "Thank you for coming on such short notice," he said.
"It was close enough, so it wasn't a problem," she replied. "Just make sure she follows the instructions."
He hesitated for a moment, then spoke. "Actually… if you don't mind, I wanted to ask something else."
She tilted her head. "Yes?"
"My mother's health hasn't been very good for a while. She takes too much workload, and we can't always monitor everything. I was thinking… if possible, could you check on her regularly? Twice a week maybe? Just basic monitoring, adjusting medication when needed, and guiding her diet."
Dr. Sara looked slightly surprised. "You mean… something like a home-visit caretaker?"
"Not exactly," Ashburn clarified. "I just want someone qualified to monitor her health, so nothing gets ignored. I trust your judgement. And of course, I'll pay for your time."
She shook her head lightly. "Payment isn't the issue. The problem is my clinic. I can't leave it too often."
"I understand," he said calmly. "But even one or two visits a week would be enough."
She thought for a moment, then finally nodded. "Alright. Twice a week is manageable. I'll schedule visits in the evenings after closing the clinic."
A small relief washed over him. "Thank you," he said sincerely.
"It's alright," she replied with a faint smile. "She raised you. It's the least I can do."
Her words carried a warmth he hadn't expected, and for a moment, the atmosphere between them softened.
Dr. Sara visited again two days later, checking Mrs. Khan's improvement. She noted changes in her medicine, adjusted her diet plan, and even scolded her gently for moving around too much. Ashburn watched from nearby, appreciating the professional calm she brought with her.
Their interactions increased naturally. Some visits were brief, some longer. Sometimes Ashburn discussed his mother's condition with her; other times, they talked casually about daily life, the city, or local issues. She seemed curious about him, though she never asked directly about his business. He appreciated that—he liked people who didn't pry unless necessary.
Meanwhile, even as he spent more time at home, the work in Faisazabad continued smoothly. Faraz frequently called with updates, sending pictures of the cold storage being installed, shelves arriving, painters finishing their work, and the electricians testing backup systems.
Ashburn reviewed all updates carefully, often late at night after checking on his mother.
Progress was steady. Structures were forming.