Morning light slipped into their flat, brushing the edge of the kitchen counter where Mira stood with two cups of chai. The city was already awake; horns, footsteps, and balcony chatter rose like a steady tide. But inside their home, something felt calmer—like the world had taken one deep breath overnight.
Arun stepped out of the bedroom, fresh from a slightly-too-short sleep, yet with a spark running through his veins. The mountains were still in his bones, and the store's renewed energy was still warm in his chest.
Mira placed a cup in his hands. "Today," she said softly, "we start again." He smiled. "Together." But as they sipped their chai, silence settled—a different kind. Not tired. Not distant.
A kind of silence that hinted at a storm neither wanted to ignore anymore. Mira broke it first. "Arun… I didn't tell you everything yesterday." He looked up instantly. "Tell me now." The words came out gently, without pressure. But she still hesitated.
"There's something wrong in the building." He straightened. "The shop building?" She nodded.
"The wall behind the spices section… it started cracking on the third day after you left. A hairline crack at first. Then wider. Prem and I pushed a shelf in front of it so customers wouldn't notice."
Arun's breath hitched. "Why didn't you call me?" "You were traveling in remote valleys, Arun. Half the time there wasn't signal. And we needed the shop running—closing wasn't an option." He set the cup down. "Mira, a building issue can't be hidden by a shelf. We're responsible for every customer who walks in." Her eyes softened with guilt. "I know. I panicked. And the landlord… he wasn't helpful." Arun's jaw tightened. "What did he say?"
"He said it's 'normal settling of old structures.' But the crack has grown. And yesterday, some plaster fell behind the counter. Just a little. But enough to scare Prem." Silence. A different kind of silence this time. He wasn't angry at her—he was angry at the situation. At the risk. At the timing.
Just when they'd solved the supply crisis, another issue had crawled out of the shadows.
Arun finally spoke. "We need to see it first thing." Mira nodded. "I knew you'd say that." They finished their chai quickly, and within minutes, were walking down the busy street toward A&M. Mira walked slightly closer to him than usual, like she was relieved to finally share the burden. When they reached, Prem was already waiting by the shutter. "Bhaiya… I didn't want to open without telling you. The crack… it looks bigger this morning." Arun exchanged a glance with Mira. "Let's open up," he said.
Inside, everything looked normal at first. The chalkboard, the fresh produce, the morning customers trickling in. But near the spices shelf, a faint white dust lay on the floor—plaster dust. Arun's stomach tightened. He pulled the shelf aside slowly. And there it was. A long, jagged crack running from the window frame down to the skirting. Not dangerous yet—but not harmless either.
"This isn't settling," Arun murmured. "This is structural strain." Mira rubbed her temples. "I'm sorry. " Don't be. You managed everything you could." He crouched to inspect the wall, tracing the edges.
The store suddenly felt smaller… and more fragile. Prem hovered nearby. "Bhaiya, if customers see this—" "They won't," Arun said firmly. "We'll manage. But we're not ignoring it." Mira folded her arms. "So what's the plan?"
Arun stood. "First, we call a structural engineer. I have someone in Noida. He can come by noon." "And the landlord?" she asked.Arun's eyes hardened. "He'll cooperate. Or he'll face legal trouble. This isn't cosmetic—it's safety."
Mira exhaled, relieved to see Arun stepping into the problem with his full presence. "For now," he said, "we'll move the heavy jars away from this wall. Keep distance. And Prem—no one stands near this side longer than necessary."
"Yes, bhaiya." As they worked together, a strange thing happened. The fear Mira had felt for days began loosening from her chest. The mountain contracts had given them new life. But this—fixing the wall, solving the next crisis—this reminded her that A&M wasn't just a store. It was the two of them. Together. Always together.
When the engineer arrived at noon, he examined the wall with a flashlight and a degree of seriousness Arun didn't like. "It's not collapsing," the expert said slowly. "But this crack… it's a warning. Moisture seepage from the neighbouring building. Long-term issue." Mira's breath caught.
"Is it dangerous?" "Not immediately," he said. "But you'll need reinforcement. Plaster removal. Internal metal mesh. Re-sealing. It's a two-day job." "And during those two days?" Arun asked "You can't open the shop."
The words hit like a hammer. Two days closed meant: lost sales, confused customers. more bad reviews, disruption in their new supply flow. Mira glanced at Arun, bracing for frustration. But he only nodded slowly. "Safety first," Arun said. "We'll manage." The engineer smiled approvingly.
"I'll send a detailed report. You can push the landlord to cover costs." When he left, Mira touched Arun's arm gently. "You're not upset?"
He looked at her with a tired, honest smile. "I'm upset at the building. At the timing. At everything falling at once. But not at you. Never at you." She swallowed a wave of emotion. "So," she whispered, "two days closure?" Arun nodded. "Two days to fix the wall." He took her hand. "And two days to rest. You need it." She didn't argue. For the first time in days, she didn't need to.