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"We need to host a party," she says, finally breaking the silence. "But not like your usual gatherings. This one should be for local politicians and public works employees."
I lean back in my chair, watching her with a mix of admiration and curiosity. "What’s your angle?"
She stops pacing and faces me. "We present action plans that the community desperately needs. Get testimonials from families affected by the war, studies from local scientists—make it impossible for them to ignore."
I nod slowly, considering her words. "That could work. And you’re thinking this will get them on board with funding?"
"Exactly," she replies, eyes bright with determination. "And I was thinking we should propose a special grant for scientists studying air quality in neighborhoods. It hasn’t been the same since the bombings."
Her suggestion catches me off guard, but I’m impressed. "You’ve been holding out on me, Ariana. That’s a brilliant idea."
She blushes slightly but doesn’t break eye contact. "I just want to make a real difference."
"We both do," I say, standing up and walking over to her. I place my hands on her shoulders, feeling the warmth of her skin through the fabric of her dress. "Let’s get started on this plan."
We spend the next few hours drafting proposals and contacting local scientists. Ariana’s energy is infectious; she’s a whirlwind of ideas and organization.
"We should include Dr. Marlowe’s study on air particulates," she says, tapping away at her tablet.
"Good call," I reply, scribbling notes on a holographic pad. "And what about testimonials? Any families in mind?"
She pauses, chewing on her lip thoughtfully. "The Hernandez family comes to mind. They’ve been struggling with respiratory issues ever since their neighborhood got hit."
"Perfect," I say, jotting down their name. "I’ll have someone reach out to them."
As we work side by side, I can’t help but admire how seamlessly we’ve become a team. Her ideas are not only practical but compassionate—a balance I often struggle to achieve.
We continue planning late into the night, the atmosphere between us charged with a mix of determination and unspoken emotions. By the time we wrap up, we have a comprehensive plan ready for presentation.
As we gather our materials, Ariana turns to me one last time. "Do you think they’ll listen?"
I meet her gaze, my resolve unwavering. "They won’t have a choice."
Ariana smiles, her eyes sparkling with satisfaction, but then she glances around the study, her expression turning thoughtful. "What about the estate?" she asks, looking back at me.
I raise an eyebrow. "What about it?"
She waves a hand around, encompassing the grandeur of the room. "I mean, it feels like more can be done right here as well. This place is beautiful, but it could be... more purposeful."
Her words make me pause. I've always seen the estate as a fortress, a symbol of my success and protection. But purposeful? That's new. I fold my arms across my chest.
"You've got a point," I admit slowly. "What kind of change are you thinking?"
She takes a step closer, her enthusiasm infectious. "We could use part of the gardens to trial sustainable food farming. See what works best here and can feed the most people."
I stare at her for a moment, processing the idea. It's brilliant—simple yet impactful. And it aligns perfectly with my desire to be a pillar of this community.
"That’s actually a damn good idea," I say, nodding appreciatively.
Her face lights up with joy, and it's like watching the sunrise after a long night. "Really? You think so?"
"I do," I confirm, feeling a rare warmth spread through me. "We could start by sectioning off an area of the gardens and bringing in some experts on sustainable agriculture."
"Yes!" she exclaims, practically bouncing on her toes. "We can involve local scientists and even have workshops for residents."
I can’t help but smile at her excitement.
"We should also document everything," she suggests, tapping away at her tablet. "Create a model that other parts of Armstrong can replicate."
