Chapter: Waterfront Decisions
The room was full, yet unhurried.
Bani sat cross‑legged on the bed, her back resting against the headboard, while her father took the chair near the window, phone in hand. Her mother and younger brother occupied the edge of the mattress, quiet observers as ideas moved back and forth—carefully, thoughtfully, like pieces on a chessboard.
Her mother spoke first, offering practical concerns, small but important. Locations. Safety. Something stable.
Bani listened, then added her own thought, voice steady. "Waterfront retail makes more sense right now. Shops don't stay vacant for long, especially near walkways. Even when markets slow, footfall doesn't."
Her father nodded, absorbing it. "You're thinking Marjan?"
"Yes," Bani said. "Marjan commercial properties. Close to the water, consistent movement. It's practical."
There was no resistance—only a shared agreement to explore. Still, Bani's expression suggested she'd already traced the outcome several steps ahead.
Her father mentioned apartments next, something simple for now. Nothing extravagant.
"That's fine," Bani replied easily. "We're not moving immediately anyway. And we shouldn't spend everything at once."
Her fingers intertwined loosely as she leaned back, eyes clear, confident in a way that didn't demand attention. "I'll need funds for the business. Licenses, space, people. Cash flow matters more than comfort right now."
Her younger brother shifted beside her, hesitation flickering across his face before he finally spoke. "So… no big house?" he asked softly. There was hope there—years of sharing space packed into one quiet question.
Bani turned toward him instantly. Her voice changed, gentler, warmer. She reached out, smoothing his hair instead of ruffling it this time.
"Not yet," she said, almost a promise. "A big home will come when it feels light to carry, not heavy. I want it to feel happy when we get it—not stressful."
He nodded, comforted, even if he didn't fully understand.
Her father lowered his phone. After a moment, he said simply, "Alright."
The decision settled the room.
---
By the next afternoon, sunlight glinted off glass and water as their car slowed near the promenade. Marjan Properties rose ahead—sleek, reflective, deliberate. The moment they stepped inside, Bani felt it: this was a place built for numbers, not persuasion.
Scale models sat beneath soft lights. Miniature walkways. Tiny figures frozen mid‑stride.
The representative spoke smoothly, pointing out corner retail units, café zones already leased, smaller shops positioned near pedestrian crossings. Bani listened in silence, her gaze moving—not randomly, but with intent. Entry points. Sightlines. Crowd flow during mornings and evenings.
"These units rarely stay vacant," the representative said. "Tourists, residents, evening crowds—it's consistent."
Bani didn't react. She already knew.
Her father asked about maintenance, security, lease structures. Bani leaned closer to the model instead, pointing toward a narrow strip near the water.
"What about this row?" she asked. "Morning walkers. Evening diners. Restaurants would compete for visibility here."
The representative smiled, impressed.
Bani stepped back, unreadable.
This wasn't just a property visit. It felt like alignment.
---
After multiple walkthroughs and quiet calculations, the air changed.
Bani stood near the window, the model behind her. She turned calmly to the representative.
"We'll take four."
Her father glanced at her—not startled, just attentive. "Four units?"
"Yes. Two corner‑facing, one mid‑promenade, one near parking access. Different tenants, different rhythms. Balanced risk."
Notes were taken immediately.
As paperwork began, Bani leaned toward her father. "This still keeps liquidity," she said quietly. "The business won't suffer."
When pricing surfaced, she remained composed. "Forty percent upfront," she said. "Sixty percent financed."
That was enough to shift the room.
Managers joined. Smiles softened into respect. Timelines stretched—but structure held.
"Time isn't a problem," Bani said. "Only alignment is."
At the end, everyone looked to her father.
He asked one final question about exit options. Then nodded once.
"We proceed."
Relief followed. Gratitude. A sense of something beginning.
As they stepped back into the sunlight, the sea stretched endlessly ahead. The apartment discussion hovered—but unspoken.
Bani already had another plan.
The storefront was finally theirs. A modest glass-fronted shop, tucked between a travel agency and a cosmetics outlet. To everyone else, it was just a small business—a sensible, safe investment. To Bani, it was the first piece of a much larger plan.
For her family, today was simpler. A mall visit meant gifts for the younger cousins, the laughter of children, and the thrill of shopping.
"Since we're already here," her mother said, adjusting her handbag, "let's go to the mall. We need gifts for the kids back home anyway."
Her father nodded. "Yes, yes. Clothes, maybe toys. They'll be happy."
For them, it was a casual tour plan.
For Bani, it was the next move.
"Okay," she said softly, agreeing without seeming to. But the mall had always been part of her calculation.
The moment they stepped inside, the cool air wrapped around them, carrying the mingled scents of coffee, perfume, and new fabric. Children laughed near the gaming zone. Escalators hummed like they were alive. Glass storefronts glinted in the afternoon sun.
Her family scattered with quiet excitement.
"Let's check the kids and girls' section first," her mother suggested.
"Shoes!" her brother shouted.
"Not too expensive," her mother added automatically.
Bani walked a half-step behind, observing, not wandering. She noted which stores were crowded despite high prices, which brands parents instinctively trusted, and which kiosks had long queues even without promotions.
A toy store near the atrium was packed. A children's clothing brand had three billing counters open—and all were busy. She recorded it silently, the way she always did.
Her mother glanced back. "Bani, you're not looking at anything. Don't you want to buy something?"
Bani smiled faintly. "I'm looking."
It wasn't a lie.
Gifts were carefully chosen—tiny sneakers, bright dresses, a shirt and top. Her father, though wary of expense, nodded at last. Better the children be happy than face relatives' judgment later.
His mind, however, was already on bigger plans. After recent family difficulties, he had decided they would move to Dubai. He pinched his pockets, feeling the weight of excitement and responsibility. The relatives who had relied on him before were no longer his concern. His duty was clear: his mother, his children, his immediate family.
Before leaving the mall, Bani paused at a counter. The Dubai Shopping Festival was in full swing—citywide promotions, prize pools exceeding AED 10 million, including cash, electronics, cars, bikes—and the ultimate grand prize: a ready-to-move 2BHK apartment in Jumeirah Lake Towers.
She bought four tickets.
As the draw neared its climax, the family was asked to wait. Crowds gathered around the stage: ticket holders, prize representatives, and government officials ensuring transparency. The tension was palpable.
A massive spinning machine sat at the center. Its drums whirred, numbers blurred across metallic wheels, and each prize had its own designated team. One for cars, one for electronics, one for cash, and one for the grand apartment. Numbers were drawn live, announced, verified. No room for error.
And in that exact moment, Bani connected silently with her magical space.
"I need the apartment prize. Make sure the number ends up with the representative handling the developer's draw," she commanded inside her mind.
A calm voice responded: It will be done.
The machine spun. Numbers were drawn. Winners were called—some danced, some cried, some clutched cash in disbelief.
Finally—the grand prize. Silence fell. The crowd leaned in. The number was read.
Her father's ticket. Perfect. The crowd erupted in applause. He was now the official owner of a brand-new 2BHK in JLT.
Bani's plan had worked flawlessly. The apartment gave her father the solid reason to move. With the storefront and a home waiting, he could start a business quietly, without any pressure no EMI tention for house.
As her father finished the formalities, Bani's mind wandered. perhaps she can upgrade to a 3BHK… or a 4BHK. Comfort, strategy, and the illusion of chance—everything had to align perfectly.
Her family, arms full of shopping bags, laughed and debated what to eat for dinner. To them, the day had ended with gifts and a new house.
To Bani, the next stage had only just begun.