2: Corporate Shadows

The silence of the house didn't just linger; it settled into the floorboards. Galen didn't move for a full minute, staring at the wood grain of the front door. The vibration of the phone, the frantic way Nurin had snatched it, the stutter in her voice—it all replayed like a corrupted video file. He shook his head, forcing the thoughts into a locked box in his mind. He had a firm to run.

An hour later, the clinical quiet of his home was replaced by the frantic hum of Prakoso Development’s headquarters.

"Sir, the permit for the Menteng project just got flagged. The city council is stalling again."

Galen didn't slow his pace as he strode toward his corner office, his assistant, Hendra, scurrying to keep up.

"On what grounds?" Galen asked, his voice sharp.

"Zoning issues. They’re claiming the height exceeds the new regulations for heritage areas."

"The plans were approved six months ago, Hendra. The regulations aren't retroactive. Call the lead councilman’s office. Tell him if the stop-work order isn't lifted by noon, I’m pulling the investment for the community park project in his district. See how he likes explaining that to his voters."

"Right away, sir. Also, the design team for the SCBD hotel is in the conference room. They said there’s a change in the lead representative."

Galen pushed open his office door and tossed his briefcase onto the mahogany desk. "I thought I was meeting with Aris."

"He’s out with a sudden bout of food poisoning. They sent a senior replacement. They’re already waiting."

"Fine. Give me five minutes to look over the site reports, then bring them in."

"Do you want coffee, Mr. Prakoso?"

"Black. Double shot. And make sure no one interrupts us."

Galen sat, rubbing his temples. He tried to focus on the spreadsheets, but the image of Nurin’s pale face in the entryway kept flickering across the numbers. He slammed the folder shut just as the door opened.

"They’re here, sir," Hendra announced.

Galen stood, smoothing his tie, his CEO mask firmly in place. "Bring them in."

Two people walked in. The first was a junior architect he recognized. The second was a woman in a charcoal-grey blazer, her hair pulled back in a sleek, professional bun.

Galen froze. The air in the room felt suddenly thin.

"Good morning, Mr. Prakoso," Nurin said, her voice steady, professional, and entirely devoid of the warmth she’d shown—however briefly—that morning. "Thank you for seeing us on such short notice."

Galen stared at her, his heart hammering against his ribs. "Nurin?"

She didn't blink. She didn't even smile. She simply opened her leather portfolio. "I believe I’m here in a professional capacity, sir. Aris sends his apologies. I’ll be leading the design presentation today."

Galen cleared his throat, sensing Hendra’s curious glance. He sat back down, interlacing his fingers. "I see. Well. Please, take a seat."

Nurin sat across from him, the same desk between them that usually held their shared tax returns or travel brochures. Now, it held blueprints.

"The revised layout for the lobby," Nurin began, sliding a high-gloss print across the table. "We’ve shifted the focus to a more minimalist aesthetic to match your firm's brand identity."

"It looks cold," Galen said, his eyes not on the paper, but on her.

"It’s modern," she countered. "It’s efficient. It maximizes the square footage while maintaining an air of exclusivity."

"And what about the lounge area?" Galen leaned forward. "It feels... detached. Like there’s no place for people to actually connect."

Nurin’s gaze met his, and for a split second, the professional mask cracked. A spark of defiance flared in her eyes. "In a building like this, Mr. Prakoso, people aren't looking for connection. They’re looking for prestige. They want to be seen, not heard."

"Is that what you think people want?" Galen asked, his voice dropping an octave. "To be seen but not heard? To exist in a space where they’re right next to someone but can't reach them?"

The junior architect looked between them, visibly confused. "I think the lighting helps with the warmth, actually—"

"The lighting is secondary to the structure," Galen interrupted, never taking his eyes off his wife. "If the foundation is built on distance, no amount of light is going to fix it."

Nurin tightened her grip on her pen. "The foundation is solid. The design is functional. If you have specific critiques, I’d prefer to hear them now so we can move to the next phase."

"I have plenty of critiques," Galen said. "But perhaps they’re better discussed in a more... focused setting."

"We have a schedule to keep," she said.

"And I’m the client. My schedule is the only one that matters here." Galen stood up, turning to Hendra. "Hendra, take the junior associate to the breakroom. Get him some lunch. Ms. Qistina and I need to go over these blueprints in detail."

"But, sir—" the junior started.

"Now," Galen said.

The room cleared in seconds. The heavy oak door clicked shut, leaving them in a silence that felt heavy enough to choke on.

Nurin didn't move. She kept her eyes on the blueprints. "That was incredibly unprofessional, Galen."

"Unprofessional? You walked into my office and pretended you didn't know me. You haven't called me 'Mas' once since you stepped through that door."

"Because we are at work! I’m a designer, you’re the CEO. Do you have any idea how it looks if I’m 'Mas-ing' you in front of my juniors?"

"I don't care how it looks. I care about what’s happening. Why didn't you tell me you were the one coming today?"

"I didn't know until an hour ago. And I knew if I told you, you’d find a way to make it weird. Like you’re doing right now."

"I'm making it weird? Nurin, you’re acting like a stranger."

"I’m acting like an employee of a firm that needs this contract." She stood up, beginning to pack her papers. "If you’re not going to look at the designs, I should go."

"Sit down, Nurin."

"No. I have a meeting back at the studio."

"I'm not finished."

She looked at him then, her eyes shimmering with a mix of anger and something that looked dangerously like exhaustion. "You’re always finished, Galen. You get what you want, you give your orders, and you expect the world to stop. Well, I’m not stopping."

She turned and walked out of the office. Galen didn't hesitate. He grabbed his jacket and followed her.

"Nurin!" he called out as she reached the elevator bank.

She ignored him, pressing the down button repeatedly. The doors slid open. She stepped inside. Galen stepped in right behind her, blocking the sensor so the doors would close on just the two of them.

He punched the 'Stop' button. The elevator jolted and came to a halt between the 15th and 14th floors.

"Are you crazy?" she hissed, backing into the mirrored wall. "Turn it back on!"

"Not until you talk to me. Really talk to me."

"There is nothing to say! I’m busy, you’re busy, we’re all busy!"

"Who texted you this morning?"

The question hung in the air, sharp and jagged. Nurin’s breath hitched. "I told you. It was spam."

"Spam doesn't ask 'Are you alone?'. Spam doesn't make you turn white as a sheet and run out the door." Galen stepped closer, pinning her against the wall, his hands resting on either side of her head. "Who is he, Nurin?"

"It’s not—you’re being paranoid."

"Am I? Because the woman I married used to look at me when she spoke. The woman I married didn't treat her husband like a nuisance."

"I don't treat you like a nuisance," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I’m just... I’m tired, Galen. I’m so tired of trying to be what you want me to be."

"What I want you to be? I just want you to be mine!"

He leaned in, his mouth inches from hers. The tension in the small space was electric, a volatile mix of frustration and the undeniable magnetism that had brought them together in the first place.

"You think I don't see it?" Galen muttered, his voice raw. "The way you pull away? The way you look at your phone like it’s a lifeline and I’m the anchor dragging you down?"

"You're not an anchor," she breathed, her hand reaching up to rest against his chest, right over his racing heart. "But you’re so loud. Your love is so loud, Galen. It doesn't leave room for anything else."