Aruna's Spaces

That morning, Aruna had already been sitting in front of her computer for half an hour. On the monitor was the design for the living room of a two-story house she was currently working on.

At the communal pinewood table she shared with her two colleagues, Aruna was putting together a color scheme for the living room. She arranged sofa fabric samples, wall paint colors, and flooring materials across her workspace, then took a photo of them to send to the client.

“Co,” Aruna called to the bespectacled young man in casual clothes across the table, who had just set down his backpack.

Marco looked up, raising an eyebrow questioningly as he began turning on the computer in front of him.

“For our client, Bu Amalia, lower the countertop around the stove area to eighty centimeters, okay? Don’t use the standard height.”

Marco frowned. “Why? Is there a problem, Run?”

As the monitor window opened, Marco’s fingers moved deftly across the mouse, pulling up the folder containing the three-dimensional kitchen design for Bu Amalia, which he had been working on for the past three days.

“Hmm. Won’t it look odd once we install the built-in cooktop if the countertop is too low?” Marco examined the section Aruna was referring to.

Aruna swiveled her office chair and moved over to Marco’s desk, which held two large monitors. One of them displayed the three-dimensional model of Bu Amalia’s kitchen, which was beginning to look quite beautiful.

“Bu Amalia gave me some additional information yesterday afternoon. She said her shoulders often ache if she cooks for too long,” Aruna explained as she studied the countertop on the screen, then pointed to the area she meant.

“If we force it to the standard eighty-five centimeters, plus the height of the wok, she’ll have trouble stirring or grinding ingredients when she’s cooking large portions. Bu Amalia is fairly short, Co. We need to prioritize her comfort.”

Marco nodded in understanding. He had no problem with the sudden revision.

“Makes sense. Okay, I’ll adjust the height now. I’ll also adjust the height of the drawers underneath so everything stays proportional.”

“And don’t forget, the large window in front of it will need to be adjusted to match the new countertop height,” Aruna added.

“Okay, got it. Done!”

Marco gave her a thumbs-up before immediately making the changes Aruna had requested.

Aruna turned and headed back to her desk. She had barely sat down and started tidying the samples scattered across the table when messages from a client began pouring in.

Aruna read them one by one, letting out a quiet sigh.

Bu Anggun, the client who wanted to change the theme of her living room, objected to the sofa fabric color Aruna had just sent her. From the very beginning, Aruna had explained that the color Bu Anggun had chosen from their fabric color catalog was already out of stock.

Aruna had offered several similar color samples, but the woman in her fifties—extremely detail-oriented and endlessly fussy—refused to compromise.

She wanted that exact shade.

Period.

Aruna glanced at the whiteboard mounted on the exposed-concrete wall behind Marco. It contained a list of projects for Aruna Studio. The living room project for Bu Anggun was marked in red, indicating that work on it had been put on hold.

The renovation of Bu Anggun’s living room was already running behind schedule. The problem wasn’t just the sofa fabric. She had repeatedly changed her mind about the materials, room layout, lighting points, and various other details—changes she had made only after both parties had already agreed on the initial plan.

Aruna didn’t want the budget to spiral out of control, but she also wanted to provide the best possible service to her clients, even when those clients were as difficult as Bu Anggun.

As Aruna replied to Bu Anggun’s messages, the little bell above the shop-house door chimed.

Through the black open shelving that separated the middle of the studio from the front area, Aruna caught sight of Dayu. The shelves were filled with architecture reference books, HPL catalogs, marble samples, ceramic tiles, and rolls of blueprints.

Dayu hurried inside, carrying a plastic bag filled with iced coffee for the three of them. She placed the drinks in the middle of the table, then immediately dropped into her office chair.

“It’s still morning and you’re already bringing iced drinks, Yu,” Marco complained, though he was already grabbing his favorite Hazelnut Latte.

“Quit whining. I was thirsty after getting stuck in traffic,” Dayu replied before taking a sip of her Avocado Coffee.

“Run, I’ve got some bad news from the hardware vendor,” Dayu said as she pulled a tablet from her bag, opened a folder, and read the information aloud to Aruna. “The German soft-close hinges Bu Amalia requested went up thirteen percent per pair starting this week. If we insist on using those, the profit margin for this project could go negative.”

Aruna tapped her fingers against the table as she thought.

She had actually been about to ask Dayu about Bu Anggun. But seeing her arrive out of breath and drenched in sweat, she decided to wait until she had calmed down.

Apparently, Dayu herself—still breathing heavily, with sweat dripping down her face—was the one who brought up the work issue first.

“Try contacting a local vendor with similar specifications. They both come with a five-year warranty, but the local ones are still within our original budget. Bu Amalia really wants her drawers to open and close quietly. If we need to revise the cost estimate, let me know. I’ll explain it to Bu Amalia first.”

Dayu nodded with a faint smile and typed the points Aruna had mentioned into her tablet.

“Oh, Yu. Bu Anggun messaged me earlier. She’s still insisting on that sofa fabric color,” Aruna informed her.

“Oh, my God … why are these socialite ladies so damn difficult?” Dayu grumbled. “Yesterday she wanted vinyl flooring, then she switched to marble. And even then, she was still undecided. Then there’s the lighting. First she wanted downlights, but three days later she changed her mind and wanted a chandelier instead.”

“If she keeps changing her mind, this living room project is never going to move forward, Run,” Marco warned from across the table.

“Yeah, I know. That’s why I just messaged her back. I asked her to meet with me. We can’t sort out something like this over WhatsApp. She even asked me to take photos of the fabric, even though I already explained that screen and room lighting can affect how the colors look in photographs.”

“Yeah, you’re right, Run. Oh, and I’ve already revised the cost estimate to include all the changes Bu Anggun requested. The budget has gone way up.”

“Okay. Then prepare the original cost estimate from our initial agreement with Bu Anggun. And print out the revised version after all the changes she requested. I’ll go over both with her during the meeting. If she sees the comparison and realizes how much the budget has increased, maybe she’ll stop changing her mind.”

Marco and Dayu nodded in agreement as they listened to Aruna.

Aruna took a sip of her Sparks Americano, which had already begun to melt, just enough to soothe her dry throat after talking so enthusiastically.

“And what’s your plan for the sofa fabric, Run? Bu Anggun hasn’t changed her mind about that. She’s still dead set on that exact color.”

Aruna took a deep breath and continued sipping her drink as she thought.

“I’ll bring all the swatch books we have, including the ones from the new vendor. I’ll let her check the fabric samples herself. Maybe this time, once I explain it properly, she’ll understand that the fabric names can be different even when the colors are the same. It depends on the vendor.”

“Has Bu Anggun messaged you back yet?” Marco asked from Dayu’s right.

Just then, Aruna’s phone began ringing from across the table.

She quickly glanced at the caller ID.

“Bu Anggun,” Aruna whispered