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,

last call. He even said something about appreciating the balance

and focused work

comment on how much he liked my idea. Back

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

shape. I could picture it – a clean, minimalist space

leading me towards another section of the frame, “we

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Chapter 67

a ping pong table for some creative

table? That was unexpected, but I liked the idea. A touch of fun could go a long

creativity.

concluded, leading me towards the base of the structure, “we have the quiet zone. Soundproofed pods,

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

is all fantastic,” I enthused, genuinely impressed with the level of detail and thought that had gone into the design. “The mix of open space and dedicated areas really creates a

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

conversation, and I turned to see

me, Ms. Edwards?” he asked hesitantly. “The electricians need to know where to run the wiring for the presentation area’s

screen.

H

blueprints and began studying them with a practiced eye. “The projector

needs to run…”

over the blueprints for a few minutes, discussing wire placement and outlet configurations. I took the opportunity to wander around the rest of the space, my gaze flitting across the various

light. Demolished cubicle walls had been replaced with sleek glass partitions, allowing for visual connection while maintaining a sense of

constructing a small kitchenette. Modern stainless steel appliances gleamed under the harsh lights, and a row of sleek bar stools

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

spaces.

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 go when he

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

blueprints now neatly rolled up and tucked under her arm. “So, Amaya,” she began, her voice brimming with enthusiasm, “what do you think about

lips. “Honestly, Ms. Edwards, I’m