The seventh month began with an unusual mixture of excitement and pressure. It was the first time Ashburn felt like his business and charity work were moving in parallel at full speed. On one hand, the newly expanded factory line had just produced the first major batch of the two new snack products—roasted peanuts and masala Nimko. On the other hand, the charity branch in Bahawalnagar, now officially renamed "Community Free Meal," was ready to open. The renaming wasn't limited to this new branch; Ashburn made a unified decision that all existing kitchens, including the pilot one in Ashrock, would carry this name. A uniform identity would help the system grow in an organized framework.
The day before the opening, Ashburn had a short meeting with Kainat and Aisha in the Bahawalnagar regional office. They sat at the rectangular table, papers and digital files spread in front of them, but the atmosphere was calm.
"We're settling on the name Community Free Meal for every current and future kitchen," Ashburn said. "It's simple, inclusive, and formal."
Aisha adjusted her glasses slightly. "I've updated the documents and the signage orders. All future branding will use the same name."
Kainat nodded in agreement. "It feels right. It describes exactly what we want to do—serve people without conditions."
Ashburn agreed. "Tomorrow morning we open this branch to the public. After that, we'll visit Fiazabad for the third shop and oversee the first delivery of the new products."
With the plan in place, the three prepared for a long month ahead.
The opening of the Community Free Meal branch took place on a warm Friday morning. The renovation team had finished the interior only two days earlier. Stainless steel counters were polished, shelves were packed with food supplies, and industrial cooking pots gleamed under the bright overhead lights. The hall smelled faintly of fresh paint mixed with spices from the test cooking done the day before.
A small crowd had already gathered by the time Ashburn arrived with Kainat and Aisha. Some were curious locals, others were families who had heard about the opening through neighbors or small flyers distributed earlier in the week.
Kainat stood quietly near the entrance, observing the mix of people—young workers, elderly women, students, and a few daily-wage laborers. "This neighborhood needed something like this," she murmured.
Ashburn looked at the neatly arranged serving area. Staff members stood ready, trained the previous evening on the serving procedure, hygiene routine, and record-keeping. There was no ceremony, no speeches. Ashburn preferred the work to speak for itself.
He simply opened the steel gate and said, "We're starting."
The staff began handing out plates of rice and lentils with a side of vegetables. Everything was organized—each person received food within a minute. There was no pushing, no confusion. The hall filled slowly but steadily, and to Ashburn's quiet surprise, around eighty people came in the first hour.
Aisha monitored the staff rotation while writing down notes. "Crowd movement is smooth. We may need one extra volunteer on weekend shifts."
"It'll stabilize in a week," Ashburn replied, keeping his voice low. "People will tell others. Numbers will increase."
By noon, more than 150 people had been served. Some brought their children. Others came shyly, almost hesitant, but left with genuine gratitude. Kainat supervised the serving line for a while, helping staff when needed. Seeing people eat in peace impacted her more deeply than she expected.
"This place will stay busy," she whispered to Ashburn while observing a group of elderly women chatting over their plates.
"It's supposed to," he said. "That's the point."
When the afternoon meal cycle ended, they quickly reviewed the early performance. The first day exceeded their expectations. The staff handled everything responsibly, the structure held well, and the food quality remained consistently good.
By late afternoon, they left for Fiazabad to inspect the new branch opening there—the third shop in the city.
The new Fiazabad shop was located in a developing neighborhood with growing foot traffic. The signboard had been installed earlier in the week, and the shelves were fully stocked with existing products as well as the two new snacks. Ashburn arrived before sunset and inspected the place thoroughly—floor, lighting, counter space, storage racks, and temperature stability.
Faraz arrived minutes later. "Sales projections look promising, sir. This area has fewer competitors."
Ashburn checked the stock arrangement. "We place peanuts and Nimko near the front. These products are new; visibility matters."
Faraz nodded. "Done."
Aisha tested the point-of-sale system and checked the cash drawer. "Everything is working. No discrepancies."
Kainat leaned against the counter, looking around the shop. "You've almost covered Fiazabad entirely now."
"One more area left," Ashburn said. "But that's for next month."
After confirming that the staff was fully briefed, they left the shop ready to open the next morning.
The first delivery of the new products had started earlier in the day. The factory dispatched shipments not only to the fifteen company-owned branches but also to the network of local shops, mini-marts, and regular retailers who previously purchased their other products. It was the company's largest distribution push so far.
On the second day of deliveries, Ashburn visited a few local shop owners personally in Fiazabad and Bahawalnagar. One shopkeeper opened a carton of peanuts, inspected the sealed packets, and smiled with approval.
"These look premium," the man said. "And the taste?"
"Try it," Ashburn replied.
The shopkeeper tore open the sample packet, tasted it, and his eyes widened slightly. "Crisp. Not oily. People will like this."
Another owner tried the Nimko packet and said, "This would sell well near tea stalls. I'll take double the order next week if the demand grows."
Every shop gave similar feedback—clean packaging, good flavor, affordable price. Ashburn kept note of all comments, both praises and improvements. He knew early impressions determined long-term performance.
By the end of the week, the numbers showed strong initial acceptance. The new products made up almost sixteen percent of total snack sales across all branches—an impressive early indicator.
Meanwhile, Community Free Meal continued to run smoothly. Daily attendance started at 150 and gradually rose to around 230 by the end of the second week. The staff rotated well, cleanliness standards remained high, and the food remained simple but nutritious.
One afternoon, Ashburn visited the branch again. The hall was filled, the serving line was efficient, and the atmosphere felt calm. A mother helped her young child eat, elderly men sat together discussing everyday matters, and workers came straight from their jobs for a meal before heading home.
Kainat was checking the storage area when Ashburn joined her.
"This place will need a bigger water heater in a few weeks," she noted. "The usage is heavier than expected."
"I'll handle it," Ashburn said. "Replace it this weekend."
She nodded. "And the weekly ration supply should be increased by ten percent."
"Noted."
Aisha walked in with the daily report sheet. "We're within budget. No food waste. Staff morale is steady."
Ashburn glanced around the hall. "People are using the place exactly the way we intended. One proper meal without stress."
Aisha spoke softly. "You've created something meaningful here."
He didn't respond immediately. He simply observed the people, the orderly environment, and the quiet gratitude that filled the room. For him, this wasn't charity—it was responsibility.
By the final week of the seventh month, the business side and the charity side had both settled into a steady rhythm. Sales were rising, the third Fiazabad branch showed promising early performance, and the new products entered regular rotation without any major issues. Community Free Meal became a daily stop for hundreds of people.
The month ended with Ashburn closing a folder in his office late one evening. Expansion was no longer just a strategy—it was becoming a system. A structured, disciplined framework that could keep growing without collapsing under its own weight.
He leaned back, crossed his arms, and allowed himself a brief moment of reflection.
"Seven months," he said quietly."One month Left"