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?”

call. He even said something about appreciating

and focused work

mean I didn’t think he would specifically comment on how much he liked my idea. Back

closer look at the different levels. Up here, on the

I could picture it – a clean, minimalist space bathed in natural light, a perfect stage for showcasing

a level,” She continued, leading me towards another section of the frame, “we

90%1

Chapter 67

even a ping pong table

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

creativity.

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

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

impressed with the level of detail and thought that had gone into

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

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

need to know where to run the wiring for the presentation area’s

screen.

H

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

needs to run…”

the blueprints for a few minutes, discussing wire placement and outlet configurations. I took the opportunity to wander around the rest of the space,

plan felt surprisingly spacious, with floor–to–ceiling windows bathing the interior in natural light. Demolished cubicle walls had been replaced with sleek

constructing a small kitchenette. Modern stainless steel appliances gleamed under the harsh lights,

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

spaces.

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

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

beside me, the blueprints now neatly rolled up and tucked under her arm. “So, Amaya,” she began, her voice brimming with

Ms. Edwards, I’m impressed. It’s exactly how I