Chapter-47

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Continuation to Flashback...

One evening, huddled around the flickering candle in their cramped room, a heavy silence settled over them.I stared at the flickering flame, my brow furrowed as numbers danced in my head. Sixteen. Barely finished school. The weight of responsibility for Flower and Rajveer's future pressed down on me like a suffocating blanket. How could he provide for them, give them a life beyond these worn walls, with nothing but a patchy education?

Sensing my turmoil, Rajveer nudged me gently. "Hey Rudra, something on your mind? You've been awfully quiet lately."

I sighed, the sound heavy in the small room. "I'm worried," I confessed, my voice thick with emotion. "I turned 16 today, and I've barely finished school. What kind of future is there for us here?"

Flower, perched on the floor beside me, looked up, her big brown eyes filled with concern. "We'll figure it out, Bhai," she said, her voice small but resolute. "Together."

Her unwavering faith warmed my heart, but a knot of worry remained lodged in my gut. Leaving the orphanage was a daunting prospect, but staying offered little hope. Steeling my resolve, I announced, "I'm going to get a job. We can't stay here forever."

Rajveer's eyebrows shot up. "But you're barely sixteen," he protested.

"Sixteen or sixty," I retorted, a newfound determination burning in my eyes, "I need to take care of you both."

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The following days were a blur of activity. I scoured the streets for any work I could find, from washing dishes at greasy spoons to hauling heavy crates at the docks. My days were long and exhausting, but the thought of a future where Flower and Rajveer wouldn't have to worry about their next meal fueled my every step.

One evening, as I trudged home, my arms aching and my stomach growling, I spotted a flyer advertising wait staff positions at a local club. The pay was decent, and desperation gnawed at the edges of my morals. Stepping inside the dimly lit club, the air thick with smoke and the smell of cheap alcohol, I felt a sliver of apprehension. But the image of Flower's hopeful smile spurred me onward.

The owner, a gruff man with a perpetually suspicious look, eyed me skeptically. "You look a little young, kid," he rumbled.

"I'm strong and I learn fast," I asserted, puffing out my chest in an attempt to appear older. "Give me a chance, you won't regret it."

He studied me for a long moment, then grunted in agreement. Relief washed over me, warm and welcome. That night, as I counted my meager earnings, a spark of hope ignited within me. It wasn't much, but it was a start, a brick laid on the path to our future.

Months turned into a year. The job at the club was demanding, filled with long hours and shady characters, but I persevered. Saving was a constant battle. Every coin earned was a tiny victory, a sliver of hope tucked away for a brighter tomorrow. It wasn't easy, but seeing the joy on Flower's face when I snuck her a stolen pastry, or the quiet gratitude in Rajveer's eyes when I brought home a warm meal, fueled my resolve.

Then, came the chance. A glimmer of hope in the suffocating darkness. A kind soul, seeing the embers of a dream glowing in my eyes, offered me a loan. My mother's dream – a cozy haven for weary travelers, a refuge built with warmth and hospitality. It wasn't a hotel empire, not yet, but it was a foundation, a brick laid upon the memory of Mom.

The first year was a whirlwind. Every guest was a test, their satisfied smiles the sweetest validation. Slowly, the little guest house began to hum with life. The clatter of happy conversations and the clinking of silverware replaced the deafening silence that had haunted us for so long.

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