Bonds

Chapter 67

-Maya’s POV-

The cacophony of construction filled the air – hammering, sawing, drill whines echoing through the uast putted space. Amidst the chaos, I

stood frozen, a lone island of calm in a sea of activity.

People scurried around me like busy ants–construction workers in hard hats, electricians wrestling with wires, a team of painters meticulously applying a coat of crisp white to the exposed brick wall. I barely registered their presence, my mind lost in a whirlwind of thoughts.

“Amaya?” Ms. Edwards‘ sharp voice cut through my fog. She stood beside me, her clipboard clutched in one hand, the other resting on her hip. “Come on, earth to Amaya. Let’s see what you think of this.”

I blinked, forcing myself back to reality. This was it. The moment of truth. After weeks of planning, mood boards, late nights spent poring over blueprints and fabric swatches, the redesign was finally taking shape. A nervous flutter rose in my stomach.

“Right, sorry,” I mumbled, forcing a smile. “Sure, what is it?”

She gestured towards the center of the room, where a team of workers were assembling a massive structure. It looked like a giant metal frame, but the details were still shrouded in scaffolding and tarpaulin.

“That.” She announced with a flourish, “is the centerpiece of our open floor plan – the collaboration hub.”

“Collaboration hub?” I repeated, peering at the skeletal structure. “Explain?”

Her smile widened. “Ah, yes! The heart of this new design. It’s a multi–level platform, essentially. We’ll have different sections dedicated to different types of collaboration – brainstorming zones, breakout areas for smaller meetings, even a quiet zone with soundproofed pods for

focused work.”

My eyebrows shot up. “That’s actually a great idea,” I admitted. “I remember suggesting dedicated quiet zones during the initial meeting with

Mr. Thorne.”

A hint of amusement flickered in her eyes. “Indeed you did,” she conceded. “And a great idea it was. Mr. Thome was quite impressed with

your suggestion, you know.”

flushed a faint pink. “Really?” I stammered,

call. He even

and focused work

my idea. Back then

closer look at the different levels. Up here,

frame where a platform was taking shape. I could picture it – a clean, minimalist space bathed in natural light, a perfect stage

another section of the

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Chapter 67

chairs, maybe even a ping pong table

my face. A ping pong table? That was unexpected, but I liked the idea.

creativity.

quiet zone. Soundproofed pods, comfortable ergonomic chairs, perfect for those times when someone

lighting options, soundproofing materials, ventilation systems. It wasn’t just about aesthetics; it was about creating a functional, comfortable space that

that had gone into the design. “The mix

it wouldn’t have come together this well without your input. You have a real eye for design and a great understanding of

faint cough cut through our conversation, and I turned to see a young man standing awkwardly a

he asked hesitantly. “The electricians need to know where to

screen.

H

face. “Of course, Michael. Let’s see…” She pulled out a roll of blueprints and began studying them with a practiced eye. “The projector will be mounted on the ceiling,

needs to run…”

the opportunity to wander around

surprisingly spacious, with floor–to–ceiling windows bathing the interior in natural light. Demolished cubicle walls had been replaced with sleek glass partitions, allowing for visual connection while maintaining a sense of

steel appliances gleamed under the harsh lights, and a row of sleek

myself, a satisfied smile curving my lips. It was starting to feel real, this vision we’d meticulously crafted on paper, I could almost picture the employees bustling around, collaborating in the open

spaces.

for him. Alex had always been impersonal when it came

forced myself to refocus. There was still a lot to be done. We needed to finalize furniture selections, choose color palettes for the different zones, and address

on cue, Ms. Edwards reappeared beside me, the blueprints now neatly rolled up and tucked under her arm. “So, Amaya,” she began,

genuine smile gracing my lips. “Honestly, Ms.