Mumbai never sleeps — but some parts of it forget how to listen.
The rooftop of The Levitus Grand was unusually still at 3:12 AM. No staff. No music. No skyline parties. Just the wind brushing against glass rails and the distant hum of a city too busy to pause. High above that chaos, Nishanth stood alone beneath a quiet moon, one hand resting lightly on the edge of the balustrade, the other holding a small, folded piece of paper.
He opened it again — even though he'd read it ten times already.
It was the thank-you letter from a village boy in Solace Township. Written in crooked English with lines that slanted awkwardly across the page.
"Thank you for giving our dreams a roof."
Just one line.
Yet it said more than all the luxury speeches he'd ignored in boardrooms.
He folded the paper slowly and placed it back inside the inner lining of his coat — a pocket meant not for show, but for things he refused to forget.
And then, his vision lit up.
