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.”

a faint pink. “Really?” I stammered,

He specifically mentioned it during our last call. He even

focused

I didn’t think he would specifically comment on how much he liked my idea. Back then we each did our own thing so

at the different levels. Up here, on the top platform, we’ll have a dedicated presentation area. Large projector screen, sleek modern furniture, the whole

pointed to a section of the frame where a platform was taking shape. I could picture it – a clean, minimalist space bathed in natural light, a perfect stage for

continued, leading me towards another section of the frame, “we have

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Chapter 67

chairs, maybe even a ping pong table for some

unexpected, but I liked the idea. A touch of fun could go

creativity.

of the structure, “we have the quiet zone. Soundproofed pods, comfortable ergonomic chairs, perfect for

finer detalls – lighting options, soundproofing materials, ventilation systems. It wasn’t just about aesthetics; it

genuinely impressed with the level of detail and thought that had gone into the design. “The mix of open space and

You have a real eye for design and a great

spread through me at her praise. It felt good to be appreciated then. faint cough cut through our conversation, and I turned to see a young man standing awkwardly a few feet away. He wore a hard hat and a toolbelt, his face streaked

Edwards?” he asked hesitantly. “The electricians need to know where to run

screen.

H

blueprints and began studying them with a practiced eye. “The projector will be mounted on the ceiling, right here,” she pointed to

needs to run…”

outlet configurations. I took the opportunity to wander around the rest of the space, my gaze flitting across the various

plan felt 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

kitchenette. Modern stainless steel appliances gleamed under the

smile curving my lips. It was starting to feel real, this vision we’d meticulously crafted on paper, I could almost picture

spaces.

hit me. I thought back to a time when this was what I wanted to do for him. Alex had always been impersonal when it came to work and I tried but eventually let it

still a lot to be done. We needed to finalize furniture selections, choose color palettes for the different

tucked under her arm. “So, Amaya,” she began, her voice brimming with enthusiasm, “what do you think about

genuine smile gracing my lips. “Honestly, Ms. Edwards, I’m