The renovation project for the lounge area and the executive interior on the fifteenth floor of the skyscraper was progressing at an astonishing pace. Every day starting at eight in the morning, the racket of carpenters at work, the tapping of measuring tools, and the distinctive scent of water-based paint and teak dominated the expansive room. Ayusari was there almost every day, wearing a simple linen shirt, slacks, and sneakers that made it easy for her to move among the piles of project materials.
With a digital tablet in her left hand and a tape measure in her right, Ayusari carefully inspected the precision of the wooden wall-frame structure. But lately, one thing had been occupying her thoughts and creating doubts in her mind: Peter's presence at the site almost every day.
As someone Ayusari believed was the company's appointed project supervisor or on-site facility manager, Peter seemed far too active. The handsome foreigner was completely at ease in the dirty, dusty environment. That morning, Peter looked relaxed in a plain dark-gray T-shirt that outlined his athletic build and loose jeans lightly stained with cement. He was laughing softly with two local carpenters while helping them hold a sengon wood beam that was about to be cut.
Ayusari paused her notes for a moment, watching the scene from several yards away. The man seemed completely at home, without the slightest trace of arrogance or social distance.
“Mr. Peter,” Ayusari called at last as she approached the wall-mounted bookshelf work area. “Don’t you have supervisory duties or other office work on the main floor? I’ve noticed you spend nearly your entire morning here on the construction floor.”
Peter turned abruptly, then brushed the wood dust clinging to his arm away before flashing a broad smile. His light-brown eyes seemed to glow beneath the work lights.
“Please, Ayusari... how many times have I told you to just call me Peter? No ‘Mr.,’” Peter said in his friendly Indonesian accent. He picked up a bottle of mineral water from the worktable and offered it to Ayusari, but she politely declined. “And to answer your question, this floor’s project is my top priority right now. I want to make sure this place truly feels warm and comfortable, not just like another cold office.”
Peter deliberately kept to himself the main reason he spent hour after hour on the fifteenth floor: to be near Ayusari. He intentionally came up with small, plausible excuses—checking the details of the lighting materials, discussing types of indoor plants, even asking about the air-circulation layout—just so he would have opportunities to talk with Ayusari.
Amid their technical discussions, Peter cleverly slipped in casual questions to learn about the woman's background. From their brief conversations during lunch breaks, Peter gathered many stories about Ayusari’s life. He listened as she described how strictly she divided her time: preparing her mother’s medication at dawn, making breakfast for Putri and Yasa, working hard to finish design drafts late into the night, then racing against the clock to take her mother to the hospital for regular checkups.
“You’re an extraordinary woman, Ayusari,” Peter said sincerely as the two of them sat a yard apart on the wooden garden bench that had just been completed. The afternoon light cast a reddish glow through the large glass windows behind them. “Carrying all those heavy responsibilities alone without ever complaining... I deeply admire your strength.”
Ayusari was momentarily stunned. The compliment had come from Peter’s lips without any cheap flirtation or hidden agenda. It was pure, honest recognition from a man who had observed her struggles.
Ayusari turned her gaze toward the window, looking down at the sea of traffic clogging Jakarta’s main boulevard below. She smoothed a few strands of hair fluttering in the air-conditioning.
“Life never gives us many choices besides becoming strong, Peter,” Ayusari replied softly, but with weight behind her words. Her voice was gentle yet firm. “When we have people we love deeply to protect—like my mother and the girls—our own exhaustion becomes secondary. This struggle isn’t about me anymore. It’s about their future.”
Peter studied the side profile of Ayusari’s face. The lines of her features radiated extraordinary maturity and calm, a beauty that did not come from lavish makeup but from the strength of a soul tempered by life’s many storms.
Peter’s admiration continued to swell, slowly transforming into deep affection. He knew perfectly well that the woman before him had tightly closed the door to her heart because of past trauma. He understood that if he moved too quickly or showed overly aggressive intentions, Ayusari would immediately retreat and cut off contact with him.
That was why Peter chose to let these small, carefully arranged coincidences continue unfolding naturally. He was determined to become a constant presence around Ayusari—a safe space that would slowly bring down the walls of fear surrounding her without her even realizing it.