Chapter Two: The Disruption
Adrian hated lingering. Especially after a presentation. In his mind, once the data was displayed and the pitch was delivered, lingering meant vulnerability—like watching a closed equation being reopened for critique.
But Maya Hart had unsettled the equation.
Back in his office, the applause, the nods of approval, even the tentative promises from investors all felt faint—like a soundtrack turned too low. Her voice, however, still rang clear in his head.
“Can data truly replace empathy?”
He sank into his chair, pulled off his tie, and stared at the screen in front of him. LogicMind’s interface stared back—streamlined, efficient, emotionally void. Just the way he’d designed it.
He opened a new tab and typed in her name: Maya Hart, Art Therapist, London. Several entries popped up. A few blog posts, some photos of community events. He clicked on one—a write-up about an art therapy session she hosted for children dealing with grief. In one photo, she was laughing with a boy holding up a messy, vibrant painting. She looked nothing like the skeptical woman from the pitch.
She looked alive.
The next day, a message appeared in his inbox. Subject line: Mental Health Innovation Forum – Selected Projects Announcement. Adrian clicked it, scanning the list until he found LogicMind. Selected for Phase One: Community Mental Health Pilot Programme.
He should’ve felt triumphant. But another name caught his eye — Evaluators: Dr. Karen Obasi, Dr. Simon Holt… Ms. Maya Hart.
He blinked. Read it again. A low chuckle escaped his lips. Of course.
The forum was held at a glass-walled wellness center in Shoreditch—bohemian, airy, filled with plants and the faint scent of eucalyptus. Adrian walked in wearing a tailored suit, his presence crisp and clinical against the artistic clutter.
Maya was already there, barefoot on a patterned rug, leading a mindfulness exercise with two young women and a middle-aged man. Adrian stood at the edge, unsure whether to interrupt. He watched instead.
Her voice was soft but steady. “You don’t have to fix the feeling. Just notice it. Paint it with your breath.”
Paint it with your breath? He nearly rolled his eyes.
Then one of the women began to cry. Not loudly. Just a quiet, involuntary crack. Maya reached out—not with words, but with a gentle touch on her shoulder.
No data. No algorithm. Just presence.
When the session ended, Maya approached him. She wore linen trousers and a blouse smudged with faint streaks of pastel. Her hair was tied up loosely, a pencil stuck through the bun.
“You clean up nicely,” she said, wiping her hands on a towel.
Adrian raised a brow. “And you paint with breath. That’s new.”
She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “I heard LogicMind made the shortlist. Congratulations.”
“Likewise,” he replied, nodding toward her name on the list. “Looks like we’ll be working together again.”
“Try not to be too disappointed,” she said, stepping past him toward the tea station.
He followed. “Actually, I’m intrigued.”
She paused. “By what?”
“Your confidence in challenging ideas you haven’t fully understood yet.”
Maya turned to face him. “I understand more than you think. You believe emotions are chaotic. That if something can’t be measured, it has no place in your world.”
Adrian tilted his head. “And you believe everything that can’t be measured is sacred.”
“Not sacred. Just… real. And often, the things we can’t measure are the ones that save us.”
There was silence between them then—not uncomfortable, just dense with unspoken tension.
She handed him a cup of tea. “Welcome to the pilot program, Mr. Nwosu. Let’s see if your logic can survive a little mess.”
Back at his apartment that night, Adrian stood by the window, staring out at the wet London skyline. Lights flickered across the Thames. He thought of Maya’s hands smudged with color, her patient gaze, the way she said “save us.”
He didn’t know what she meant. But for the first time in a long while, he wanted to.
