The first bulldozer arrived just after sunrise.
Its engine echoed through the valley as workers removed rusted barricades that had blocked the abandoned highway for nearly twelve years.
People gathered on both sides of the road.
Some came out of curiosity.
Others came because they simply couldn't believe what they were seeing.
An old woman stood beside her daughter, staring at the construction crews.
"They've come before," she whispered.
"They took pictures." They made promises."
"They disappeared." Her daughter nodded.
"I remember."
This time, however, nobody came with banners. No political songs blasted through loudspeakers. No officials climbed temporary stages.
The workers climbed into machines instead.
Within minutes, broken asphalt was being torn away. Dust rose into the morning air.
The rebuilding had begun.
Inside the Ministry of Infrastructure, maps covered an entire wall.
Every unfinished highway in Valenridge had been marked with a red line.
