The morning sun filtered through the banyan tree's leaves outside Saffron Spice, casting dappled shadows over the table where Arjun Sharma and Sham Desai lingered after their reunion. The air carried the lingering scent of last night's butter chicken and the faint tang of roasted corn from a nearby vendor, the street alive with the hum of rickshaws and the chatter of early risers. Sham leaned forward, his kurta sleeves rolled up, his expression softening with a mix of pity and concern. "Arjun, that divorce from Meera must've hit hard," he began, his voice low. "And jobless at 45? You need a plan—Priya's dowry, your retirement. I can get you a job at a teacher training school, 8,000 rupees a month. Stable work, brother." His tone carried the weight of a friend offering a lifeline, unaware of the transformation Arjun had undergone.
Arjun sipped his chai, the warm liquid a steadying force as he masked a faint smile. The Midlife Mastery System had turned his fortunes, his Ola driving netting 3,000–4,000 rupees daily, his savings swelling to ₹31,51,390. Sham's offer, while kind, felt like a relic of his past struggles. "Thanks, Sham ji, but I'm managing," he replied, his voice calm yet firm. "I like my pace—driving, keeping busy. Your concern means a lot, though." He appreciated Sham's gesture, but the idea of a fixed salary clashed with the freedom the system afforded, a freedom he'd fought hard to reclaim from Meera's chaos.
Sham nodded, though his eyes narrowed slightly, a hint of pride creeping in. As a second-tier university graduate turned deputy director, he contrasted his steady climb with Arjun's perceived downfall. "I've built something solid, Arjun," he said, his tone casual but edged with boastfulness. "Stable job, trips to Singapore, London—while you've been through the wringer. Let me help you back on track." His words carried a subtle flex, a reminder of their diverging paths, yet his offer held genuine intent.
Their conversation drifted to childhood, the dusty lanes of Nagpur where their friendship had taken root. Sham had always lived in Arjun's academic shadow—scoring poorly while Arjun, with his 985-equivalent degree from Mumbai University, excelled in tech. "You were the brain, I was the brawn," Sham chuckled, recalling how Arjun's parents praised his report cards while his own faced scolding. Despite the separation after college, their bond endured, a thread of camaraderie woven through years apart.
Sham pressed the job offer, leaning in with enthusiasm. "It's perfect for you—your technical expertise, that degree. Immediate start, and with my pull, promotion's on the table. Prestige, stability—think about it." He painted a picture of a structured future, leveraging Arjun's credentials, oblivious to the wealth parked just outside in the Mahindra Thar. Arjun listened, nodding politely, but his mind wandered to the system's latest task: "Assess your journey—choose growth or security, +2 Spirit." The offer tempted with certainty, yet his current path offered more.
Playful banter broke the tension. "Still showing off, Sham ji?" Arjun teased, a grin tugging at his lips. "Remember those scoldings from your dad over math? I'd tutor you, and you'd still fail!" Sham laughed, the sound rich and unguarded. "True, but look who's deputy director now," he shot back, his veiled superiority softened by their shared history. Arjun countered with a story of Meera's tantrums, turning misfortune into humor, keeping the mood light despite Sham's subtle jabs.
They skipped alcohol, mindful of driving and work, waving off a local's toast with polite refusals. Instead, they reminisced over childhood drinks—nimbu pani stolen from roadside carts—and the taste of stolen mangoes. Sham savored Arjun's tales, his pity tinged with amusement, while the street's energy pulsed around them. Then Sham dropped a surprise. "Did you know I write novels? On a platform—27 million words, 2 million fans." Arjun's eyebrows shot up, impressed. He followed the account, unaware of Sham's side hustle, a new layer to their friendship unfolding.
As they finished, Sham reached for the bill, insisting, "You're unemployed, Arjun—I'll cover it." Arjun stifled a laugh, his wealth a secret delight. Sham's frugality—counting change despite his status—contrasted with Arjun's lavish Thar purchase. "Fair enough, Sham ji," he said, amused. Sham offered a ride, assuming Arjun had taken a taxi or his old Maruti. "No need," Arjun replied, leading him outside. The Mahindra Thar's headlights flared, its sleek form stunning Sham. "That's mine," Arjun said, watching Sham's jaw drop, the perception of his struggles shattered in the glare of success.