BrewPoint smelled like roasted beans and speed.
The bell over the door rang too often. The grinder was too loud. The menu board was too confident.
Pihu stood behind the counter in a brown apron that refused to sit straight on her.
"Why does it feel like I've joined a gym but for emotions?" she muttered.
The supervisor, a tired-looking woman named Rukhsar, slid a cup toward her.
"Wipe. Smile. Ask name. Repeat."
Pihu wiped.
Smiled.
Forgot to ask the name.
"Hi, what can I get you?" she asked the next customer brightly.
"Cold brew. No sugar. Oat milk."
Pihu turned to the machine like it had personally offended her.
The first hour went badly.
She spilled foam.Mixed orders.Burned her finger.Apologized seventeen times.
By the second hour, her smile hurt.
By the third, her feet did.
She hadn't realized how much standing could feel like holding yourself together.
A man at the counter frowned. "This is too sweet."
Pihu took the cup, nodded, remade it.
No joke.
No drama.
Just… work.
On her break, she sat on the back step with a paper cup and checked her phone.
Three messages from home.
One from her father:Proud of you.
She stared at it longer than she had at any praise before.
Because this time, it wasn't for potential.
It was for effort.
When she returned to the counter, she stood differently.
Less like a girl helping.
More like a woman earning.
That evening, she came back to the hostel with sore feet and quiet eyes.
Meher looked up. "First day?"
Pihu nodded.
Ananya asked, "How was it?"
Pihu considered the question.
Then said, "Humbling."
She dropped onto her bed.
"I used to think struggle was a story," she said. "It's actually a schedule."
Nandini smiled softly.
Ananya walked over and sat beside her.
"You did good," she said.
Pihu looked at her. "I didn't do great. I didn't shine. I didn't impress anyone."
Ananya shrugged. "You showed up."
Pihu's mouth curved.
"That," she said, "might be harder."
Later that night, as Mumbai breathed outside their window, Pihu lay awake.
Not anxious.
Not sad.
Just… aware.
She finally understood something her father had never said out loud.
Dreams were beautiful.
But dignity was built daily.
And she had just started laying bricks.