Page 54 of The Roommate Experiment

It’s a delicate balancing act, each piece calibrated to work in harmony. And now, with the blueprints almost completed, they want to upend everything?

I lean back in my chair, exhaling slowly as I re-read the request. I haven’t been giving this project my full attention as I should have, too caught up in the whirlwind of Dylan and our not-quite romance. Still, I’ve kept all the moving parts on track, even with the constant distraction. But this email changes everything.

They are asking for a major aesthetic shift: an expansion to the glass atrium connecting the three towers and the introduction of a vertical garden in the taller entrance hall. It isn’t a bad idea; in fact, the biophilic design is intriguing, a way to bring the outdoors inside, to create a space that’s alive and connected to nature. It’s a feature that could make the complex stand out, generate buzz, and attract tenants for the parts they’re leasing.

But it throws off the entire energy balance of the building. The original design relied on minimal sunlight exposure, on heavy insulation to keep the interior temperature stable. With a massive glass atrium, the summer heat gain will be enormous. It’ll turn into a bona fide greenhouse, the sun pouring in, the temperature spiking.

The increased cooling demands will strain the geothermal system, driving up energy consumption and costs.

And then there’s the vertical garden. It’s a stunning concept: a living wall of green stretching up through the heart of the building. But all I can compute is the massive water demand. Constant irrigation, humidity control, the works. My original rainwater harvesting system was meant for basic needs—toilets and minimal landscaping. It can’t handle this kind of load.

I lean forward, my elbows on my desk, my head in my hands. The planet doesn’t need more water overconsumption, more strain on our resources. This vertical garden, as beautiful as it may be, is a step in the wrong direction.

I inhale deeply to calm my racing thoughts. The entire project is at risk. All my original calculations are worthless. If these changes are implemented, the building will consume way more energy than it was designed to.

I set up an emergency call with Carmichael Corp. and spend the time before they can get their team together jotting down a list of why the new atrium is a detrimental choice.

One hour later, tension buzzes under my skin as I wait for them to join the virtual meeting. When they do, I keep my voice calm as I surf through the initial greetings, eager to get to the core of the matter, which I explain in what I hope is a firm but professional tone.

“I understand your desire for a more striking design. But the alterations will have enormous implications. The glass atrium will drastically increase energy use, especially during the summer, and the vertical garden will require a new irrigation system. We’ll need to adjust the entire water management plan.”

But the client remains indifferent to my concerns. “Can’t we just improve the efficiency?” they ask breezily.

“We could, but it’s a major redesign.”

The CEO looks to the guy on his left, who nods. “We were assured the impact would be manageable.”

Cold sweat trickles between my shoulder blades. “I’m sorry, who told you that?”

Another suit whispers something to him. He nods, staring back at the camera. “A manager at your firm. A supervisor?”

It must be Mark. It couldn’t be anyone else having the gall. He’s the only one who constantly undermines me and who never gives me credit for my work. Anger flares in my chest as the pieces fall into place. My supervisor has moved from passive aggression to active sabotage.

“I see,” I say, my voice tight. “Well, I’m afraid there may have been some miscommunication. As the lead engineer on this project, I can assure you that the new design will require significant adjustments.”

The client hums noncommittally. “Well, we’ll leave that to you to sort out. How soon can you come up with an alternative proposal?”

I smile tightly. “You’ll have it by the end of the week.”Even if it means I have to kill myself with work.

The call ends, and I blow air out of my cheeks. Mark has been working behind my back, encouraging the client to request these changes and downplaying the difficulties. He’s positioning himself to step in when things go wrong. He must expect me to panic or to drop the ball on this.

My jaw tightens as I scroll through my inbox, but find no previous communications about these proposed changes. He never forwarded anything about the modifications he was discussing with my clients, knowing that springing them on me last minute would throw me off balance.

The temptation to stomp down the hall and confront Mark is strong, but I force myself to remain composed. I refuse to let his sabotage derail this project. I’ll prove that I’m more than capable of working under pressure.

I crack my knuckles.

The water-management system needs a total overhaul: new calculations, new equipment, the works. All to keep some overpriced plants alive. My head throbs, but Carmichael Corp. isn’t asking for my opinion; they’re paying for results. And it’s my job to deliver, no matter what unrealistic promises Mark made.

I sketch out a new design, integrating smart glass to manage sunlight—more performing than a simple glaze, and a more sophisticated irrigation system tied to rainwater and humidity recycling. It’s not cheap, but it’s the only way this atrium works. Hours slip by in a blur of research and sketches until the office is dark, and I’m the last one here.

By the time I finish the draft, exhaustion sets in, but so does satisfaction. This plan isn’t just viable; it’s a shot at meeting LEED standards despite the design revisions. More long nights await, but I’ve wrestled control back from Mark’s sabotage.

This project isn’t breaking me; if anything, it’s making me sharper. Bring it on, Mark. I’m not going down without a fight. I close my laptop, stretching my arms overhead. My back aches, my brain hurts, and for the first time all day, I realize I haven’t thought about Dylan once. Maybe after putting Mark in his place, I should send him a thank-you card.

26

DYLAN

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