The aroma of roasted coffee and the hum of the air conditioner filled a small café in the business district. Ayusari gently rubbed her forehead as she examined the budget documents on her laptop screen. The bill for specialized medication for her mother's vascular dementia and her epilepsy checkups had gone up this month, not to mention Putri's semester tuition, which was nearing its payment deadline. As the sole breadwinner, Ayusari could not afford to turn down extra work.
As her fingers flew across the keyboard, typing a draft interior design proposal, her phone vibrated. An incoming call from Wira, her youngest younger brother.
"Hello, Wira?"
"Sis Ayu, have you made it to the office building in the Sudirman area yet?" Wira's voice came through the phone. "My friend at the consulting firm said the representative from their foreign client is already there. They need a designer who can move quickly on the employee lounge and executive meeting room."
"I'm just about to head over, Wir. Thanks for recommending me," Ayusari replied gratefully.
"You're welcome, Sis. I hope you get the deal—it'd be a great amount to help out. Take care of yourself too, Ayu," Wira reminded her before ending the call.
Ayusari packed her laptop into her work backpack, straightened the linen shirt and slacks she was wearing, then headed toward the skyscraper a short distance from the café.
The fifteenth floor of the building was still undergoing final construction. The tapping of construction tools and the scent of freshly drying paint greeted Ayusari when she arrived. In the middle of the spacious room, whose large glass windows offered a view of the city, a man in a dark blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows was discussing something with a carpenter. The tall, Caucasian-featured man chuckled as he helped lift a wooden board.
"Excuse me..." Ayusari called politely from a few steps away.
The man turned. His light brown eyes brightened when he looked at Ayusari. He brushed the sawdust from his hands onto his dark jeans before walking over.
"Ah, hello. You must be Ms. Ayusari, the designer Wira recommended?" the man asked in fairly fluent Indonesian, though his American accent was still pronounced.
"That's right, I'm Ayusari. I'm sorry, I'm speaking with Mr...?"
"Max. Just call me Max," the man cut in quickly as he extended his hand. His smile was friendly, without a trace of arrogance. "Thank you for taking the time to come in between your other commitments."
Ayusari briefly accepted his hand. She assumed Max was a project manager or site supervisor appointed by the foreign headquarters. His highly casual appearance—jeans, a slightly dusty shirt, and sneakers—did not suggest someone in a senior position at all.
"My pleasure, Mr. Max. I've brought my portfolio and some initial designs for the green office concept and the lounge you requested," Ayusari said, getting straight to the point. She took out her tablet and showed him several three-dimensional sketches.
Max nodded seriously. He listened to Ayusari's explanation, detail by detail. Yet behind his professional evaluation of the proposed designs, Max's eyes repeatedly settled on Ayusari's calm, composed manner as she explained them. There was an aura of maturity and resilience about her, along with the faintest hint of weariness beneath the light in the woman's eyes.
"I like your approach to natural lighting and your choice of indoor plants for the materials," Max commented, pointing to one corner of the sketch. "It keeps the room from feeling stiff. The employees here need a warm atmosphere, something that feels like home."
"The main function of a lounge is to reduce stress, Mr. Max. Home is the best place to feel safe, so I've brought that sense of warmth into the office," Ayusari explained in a calm but weighty tone.
Max smiled faintly, momentarily stunned by the simple statement. "Home is the best place to feel safe... I completely agree."
Max deliberately kept his true identity to himself—that he was the primary owner and CEO of the investment holding company opening a new branch in Jakarta. Life experience had left Max tired of people who acted sweet only because they were after his position. But the woman before him looked at him and spoke to him purely as a fellow professional, without masks or weapons.
"All right, Ms. Ayusari. I don't think we need to look for another designer. Our legal team will send over a draft contract tomorrow morning. Can this project get underway next week?" Max asked firmly.
Ayusari was slightly surprised by the remarkably quick decision, but relief instantly welled up in her chest. "Of course, Mr. Max. I'll start preparing all the material details tomorrow."
"I'm glad to be working with you, Ayusari," Max said, looking into Ayusari's eyes with genuine warmth.
As she walked out of the high-rise toward the busway stop, Ayusari let out a long breath. This good news meant Putri's college tuition and Mom Tita's medication would be secure for the next few months. Meanwhile, on the fifteenth floor, Max stood near the large window, watching Ayusari's figure blend into the city's crowd of pedestrians, harboring a quiet interest that was beginning to grow.