In the end, the small office adjacent to Anisa's cabin was cleared out and prepared for Yugh's use. Anisa then called an all-staff meeting, introducing Yugh as a new managing partner with equal authority to her own. A murmur of surprise rippled through the employees, their curious glances darting between the composed new partner and their quietly stoic founder. Administrative responsibilities for the studio were formally divided, granting Yugh a significant operational role. đź’Ľ
That first day passed with a surface-level normality. The studio's work continued—canvases were prepped, invoices processed, client calls answered. Yet, beneath the routine hum, a new tension hummed at a higher frequency. Yugh and Anisa moved through the space as dual poles of authority, their interactions limited to terse, necessary professional exchanges, their shared, painful history a silent third presence in every room.
Yugh immersed himself in understanding the studio's workflow, studying processes, and asking pointed questions to rapidly grasp the business. He observed everything with a doctor's analytical eye, now applied to ledgers and logistics instead of symptoms.
The studio itself was in a surprisingly healthy state. Orders were steadily increasing, a testament to the foundation Zayan had built and the stability Anisa had maintained. The business was thriving, even as the personal world of its leaders remained fractured. It was a success built on a secret, now managed by the two people most wounded by it. 📉