The ride back to the penthouse was quiet, but the air was thick with unspoken tension. Veer sat in the backseat of the luxury car, clutching the empty tiffin box on his lap, a small smile playing on his lips. He felt victorious. He had fed his wife.Ishika, however, was staring out the window, her jaw set, her fingers drumming a frantic rhythm on her knee. The visit to the office had been... disruptive. She knew the rumors would be flying by now. The CEO has a secret husband. A young, scruffy boy. She could already see the headlines, the whispers from the board.When they entered the penthouse, Ishika didn't wait for the elevator. She paced the living room, kicking off her heels."Ishika?" Veer asked softly, closing the door. "Are you angry? Did the food upset your stomach?""No, the food was fine," she snapped, though she softened it immediately when she saw him flinch. "It's work, Veer. It's always work."She walked to the bar and poured herself a glass of whiskey—something she rarely did this early in the evening."There is a project," she said, swirling the amber liquid. "A new factory. In a region called Suryapur. It is perfect land. Flat, near the highway, cheap. But the villagers... they are refusing to sell."She took a angry sip. "We offered them triple the market rate. We offered to build them a school, a hospital. But they are stubborn. They are holding up the entire quarter's earnings because of... superstition."Veer set the tiffin box down on the table and walked over to her slowly. "What kind of superstition, Ishika?""There is an old Banyan tree in the center of the land," Ishika said, rolling her eyes. "They say it is the guardian spirit of the village. They say if we cut it down, the village will be cursed. It's just a tree, Veer. Wood and leaves."She looked at him, expecting agreement. She expected him to nod and say that city people were smarter.But Veer didn't nod. He looked down at his feet, his brow furrowed."It is not just a tree, Ishika," he said quietly.Ishika turned to face him, her glass paused halfway to her lips. "Excuse me?""In my village," Veer began, his voice gaining strength, "we have a Banyan tree too. It is very old. My grandfather used to say that the tree is like the grandfather of the village. Its roots go deep into the earth, holding the soil together. If you cut the tree, the soil becomes loose. The river floods. The land cracks."He looked up at her, his eyes earnest. "You say it is just wood. But for them, it is history. My grandfather is buried under that tree. My father's ashes are there. If you cut it, you are erasing them."Ishika stared at him. She thought of the gold watch she had tossed into the drawer. It's a shackle, she had said. It's heavy."You think they are stubborn," Veer continued, stepping closer. "But you are asking them to sell their memories for a school they don't need. You are trying to buy their soul with money. You cannot buy lightness with gold coins, Ishika."The words hung in the air. You cannot buy lightness with gold coins.Ishika felt a sudden, sharp pang in her chest. She looked at Veer—this boy she had bought with her money, pulled from his home, dressed in silk, locked in a tower. Had she done to him exactly what she was trying to do to Suryapur? Had she tried to pay for his life with gold, ignoring the roots that tethered him?She put her glass down on the bar with a clatter."So," Ishika said, her voice hoarse. "What should I do? The project is dead if I don't build there.""Don't cut the tree," Veer said simply. "Build around it. Make the factory go in a circle. Or build the school near the tree, not on top of it. Respect the root, and the fruit will be sweet."Ishika looked at him. It was a brilliant solution. Her architects had never suggested it because they saw the land as a blank grid, not a living thing. They saw efficiency, not history."Build around it," she murmured. She looked at Veer, really looked at him. He wasn't just a pretty face or a sweet village boy. He had wisdom. He understood things she had forgotten in her pursuit of steel and glass.She walked over to him and placed her hands on his shoulders. She felt the tension drain out of her, replaced by a profound sense of relief."You are incredible," she whispered.Veer blushed, looking down. "I just know how trees grow, Ishika. That is all.""No," Ishika said, tilting his chin up so he had to look at her. "You know how people grow."She kissed him then. It wasn't a possessive kiss, or a branding kiss. It was a kiss of gratitude. It was soft and searching.When she pulled back, she rested her forehead against his."I will call the architects in the morning," she said. "We will redesign. We will save the tree."Veer's face lit up. "Really? The villagers will be so happy. The guardians will be pleased.""Yes," Ishika smiled. "And you know what?""What?""I think we need to get you some roots, too."Veer looked confused. "But I am here with you.""I mean," Ishika said, looking around the sterile penthouse, "this place is too cold. You need dirt. You need life."She took his hand. "Come with me."She led him out to the balcony terrace. It was a vast expanse of grey concrete and white tiles, overlooking the city."I own this space," Ishika said, gesturing to the empty corner. "I don't use it. Tomorrow, I am bringing in soil. And pots. And seeds. You are going to make a garden here."Veer's eyes widened. "A garden? Here? So high up?""Yes. Flowers. Vegetables. Maybe even a small Banyan sapling in a pot." She squeezed his hand. "You brought the village to my office today. Now, I will bring the village to our home. So you don't have to feel like you are floating anymore."Tears welled up in Veer's eyes. He looked at the concrete, imagining it green and bursting with life. He imagined waking up to the smell of wet earth instead of air conditioning."Can I grow Tulsi?" he asked, his voice trembling. "Holy Basil? We need it for the prayers.""You can grow whatever you want," Ishika promised. "It is your garden. But you have to promise me one thing.""Anything.""You have to teach me how to take care of it," she said. "I don't want to just watch. I want to get my hands dirty too."Veer laughed, a bright, sound that echoed off the glass buildings. He looked at the city lights, but for the first time, they didn't look like monsters. They looked like stars over a field that was just waiting to be planted."Okay, Ishika," he beamed. "But be careful. The dirt is stubborn. It gets under your nails. It might stain your expensive suits."Ishika looked at her manicured hands, then at his rough, gentle ones."I don't care," she said, pulling him into a hug. "I think I'm starting to like the dirt."