Chapter 72"If the plastic stool gives way, Rian, don't look for a lawsuit. Look for a graceful way to land," Elvina said, her hand hovering near his elbow as he lowered his frame onto the smallest piece of furniture he had ever encountered."I’ve survived hostile boardrooms and digital assassins, Elvina. I think I can handle a tripod of primary-colored polyethylene," Rian countered, though he adjusted his weight with a precision that suggested he was calculating the structural integrity of the plastic legs."The orange ones are more reliable than the blue ones," she noted, sliding into the seat opposite him. "The blue ones are from the 2018 vintage. They’re brittle.""Vintage plastic stools. I see the expertise has expanded.""You’re the one who wanted to come back here. My back still remembers the soreness from the last time.""It’s our anniversary month. Tradition demands a certain level of... discomfort," Rian said, glancing around the seafood stall. It was tucked into a narrow ga

Chapter 74"The kitchen isn’t a server room, Rian. We don’t need four redundant power lines and a surge protection system that can withstand a lightning strike from Zeus himself," Elvina said, her pencil hovering over the oversized sheet of drafting paper. She tapped the graphite tip against a rectangular space marked Pantry. "I want more shelf space for flour. You’re giving me an industrial-grade battery backup."Rian leaned over her shoulder, the scent of cedar and expensive espresso following him. "If the power grid in Medan fluctuates—which it does every third Tuesday—your sourdough starter is going to experience a thermal shock. I’m just suggesting a stabilizer.""You’re suggesting a five-kilowatt uninterrupted power supply for a toaster.""It’s a high-end toaster.""It’s a fire hazard if you keep adding more wires," she countered, sliding the floorplan across the kindergarten’s small kitchen table. "Look at the master bedroom again. Why is there a four-foot clearance between the

Chapter 76"If you check the verticality of that pillar with a laser level one more time, Pak Budi is going to hide your tools inside the fresh concrete," Elvina said, her voice cutting through the rhythmic sawing of timber.Rian didn't look up from his handheld device. "The laser doesn't lie, Elvina. Gravity, however, has a way of being deceptive during the settling period. This local timber expands differently than the reinforced steel I’m used to.""It’s called 'breathing,' Rian," Elvina countered, stepping over a pile of fragrant wood shavings. "Wood is alive. Or it was. It moves. That’s why we use local builders who understand the humidity in North Sumatra better than a satellite-calibrated computer.""I am aware of the botanical properties of indigenous lumber," Rian said, finally lowering the level. He gestured at a stack of dark, heavy beams near the entrance. "But look at the grain density on the Meranti. If we don’t calculate the load-bearing stress with an eighty-percent hu

Chapter 78"I’m not wearing the sash, Ibu Wati. There’s a non-negotiable limit to my civic duty, and a velvet ribbon embroidered with 'Assistant Neighborhood Coordinator' is exactly where the line is drawn," Rian said, leaning back against the gate of Taman Beringin as he crossed his arms over his chest.Ibu Wati, a woman whose grandmotherly smile masked the political cunning of a veteran diplomat, didn't even flinch. She simply adjusted her glasses and tapped her clipboard. "It’s not velvet, Rian. It’s high-visibility polyester. For safety. And nobody asked you to coordinate. We asked you to lead. There’s a distinct difference in the liability, which I assumed a businessman of your stature would appreciate.""A businessman of my stature is currently retired from anything involving committees," Rian countered. He glanced toward the kindergarten office window, where he knew Elvina was watching with a grin she wasn't even trying to hide. "And coordination is leading, Ibu Wati. It’s just

Chapter 80"A man who spent six hours last Saturday fixing the drainage pipe behind the main hall because it was backing up into the children’s sandbox," Ibu Wati finished, her gaze unwavering. She didn't blink. "You are already leading, Rian. We are simply asking you to make it official so the city council stops treating our budget like their personal petty cash fund. Are you afraid of a title, or are you afraid of actually caring about something the rest of us can see?"Rian felt the familiar sharp prick of defensiveness—the same instinct that had once allowed him to dismantle conglomerates from his phone—and then, he caught Elvina’s eyes. She wasn't pressuring him. She was simply waiting, holding a mug of tea with both hands, her expression one of quiet, amused patience.He looked back at the gate, then at the overgrown bougainvillea that he had meticulously pruned just that morning. The shift in his identity over the past year wasn't just a change of address; it was a total recali