Monday morning in Ashrock City arrived quietly, sunlight pouring through thin layers of clouds.
For Ashburn, this day carried a different anticipation. Yesterday had been calm, soft — today would be sharper, livelier.
He stood before the mirror, buttoning his light grey shirt, pairing it with a charcoal vest and dark trousers. His expression reflected a mix of calm and readiness.
He knew Aisha didn't enjoy small talk or exaggerated gestures. She valued depth, purpose — and honesty.
Aisha stepped out of her house dressed in a slate-blue kurta with white straight trousers, her hair neatly tied back, silver wristwatch gleaming under the morning light. Her scent was faint — jasmine, clean and crisp — like her personality.
She saw Ashburn's Bike parked outside and walked briskly toward it, her file bag in hand.
"You're early," she said, sliding on to the seat.
Ashburn smiled. "I knew you would be too."
They drove through calm streets until they reached BrewLine Café, a minimalist spot where soft jazz played and professionals often gathered before work.
Inside, Aisha ordered cappuccino and butter croissant, while Ashburn took tea and an omelet sandwich.
Aisha rested her chin on her hand. "You don't look like someone who takes breaks often."
He chuckled. "I'm learning. Kainat helped me with that yesterday."
She raised an eyebrow, but there was no jealousy in her tone — only curiosity. "I see. And today you plan to learn business from me?"
"Something like that," he said warmly.
They talked — about work, market trends, community expansion, and their small victories.
For every question Ashburn asked, Aisha countered with logic and focus. Her eyes gleamed when she spoke of growth, efficiency, and fairness in trade.
Ashburn watched her quietly, admiring how she handled every topic like she was shaping the future with her words.
She doesn't just speak, he thought, she builds.
The Business Seminar
By noon, they arrived at Ashrock Trade Hall, where a business seminar titled "Women in Modern Entrepreneurship" was being held.
Ashburn had suggested it casually, but he knew Aisha would love the idea.
As they entered, rows of professionals filled the hall. The atmosphere buzzed with ideas — charts, notes, speakers discussing startup culture and financial independence.
Aisha listened intently, taking short notes in her pad.
Occasionally, she leaned closer to whisper, "They're missing the core — passion without direction collapses. Numbers follow purpose, not the other way."
Ashburn smiled. "You should be up there saying that."
She turned to him, half amused. "Maybe one day I will."
Halfway through the session, a small commotion broke out at the entrance — a man arguing with a staff member, shouting about being denied entry without registration.
People turned, murmuring.
Before the tension spread, Ashburn stood, walked calmly toward them, and spoke in that same steady tone that seemed to disarm anger itself.
"Brother, calm down. They'll register you now. No need to raise your voice here."
The man, noticing Ashburn's composed expression and the subtle authority in his voice, quieted down. Security took over, and order returned.
As Ashburn returned to his seat, Aisha's eyes followed him — not with surprise, but with silent appreciation.
"You don't like scenes either," she said quietly.
He shook his head. "Noise never solves anything."
Later that afternoon, Aisha suggested visiting Ashrock Heritage Museum, a modest two-story building tucked behind the city's university.
Inside, time seemed slower. Old photographs of the city's first markets, historical trade ledgers, and miniature shop models filled the rooms.
Aisha moved with a quiet respect, reading plaques, tracing fingers over glass cases.
Ashburn watched her eyes — they weren't just studying; they were connecting the past to the future.
At one point, she stopped in front of a display showing the city's first female merchant, a black-and-white portrait with tired eyes but a strong smile.
"Do you ever think," she said softly, "how many people worked their whole lives just so others like us could start easier?"
Ashburn nodded. "And how easily we forget to thank them."
She looked at him for a long second — and smiled, a rare, genuine one.
"Maybe that's why I like you," she said. "You don't talk too much, but when you do, it matters."
He smiled faintly. "And maybe that's why I listen to you. You remind me what's real."
They stepped out of the museum just as the sun dipped low, painting the sky in orange streaks. The breeze was cool; the city hummed softly in the distance.
Aisha adjusted her dupatta, a little hesitant now that silence stretched between them.
"Thank you for today," she said. "It was… meaningful."
Ashburn smiled. "That's your kind of beautiful day, isn't it? Structured, thoughtful, full of reason."
She laughed lightly. "You make it sound boring."
"Not at all," he replied. "It's your way. Calm, powerful. You make everything look like it's under control."
She looked at him, almost teasing. "And you like that?"
He met her eyes. "Very much."
For a second, neither spoke. Then, with a quiet firmness, Aisha leaned slightly forward and placed her hand on his shoulder — no kiss, no fluster — just a silent, deliberate gesture of respect and affection.
"Don't ever lose this balance, Ashburn," she said softly. "You're too rare for this world."
He smiled gently. "Then maybe I'll let you remind me if I ever do."
She stepped back, opened the car door, and before leaving, added —
"And next time, I choose the topic of our day."
He chuckled. "I'll look forward to that."
As she drove away, Ashburn stood for a moment, watching the road fade into the sunset.
Her words lingered like the fading warmth of the day — firm, thoughtful, and strangely comforting.