Mia's POV
Sleep refused to come.
I lay in my bed at the Alps residence in Viremont City, my mind buzzing with thoughts of the bunkers. So much had to be perfect. So much depended on the designs I would send Luis tomorrow.
There's no time to waste.
The laptop on my desk glowed faintly in the dark. I pushed the blankets aside and sat up. Every detail mattered. Every corridor, every room, every ventilation shaft could make the difference between survival and disaster.
Luis was handling the exterior, camouflage, terrain integration, security systems—but the interior design was entirely my responsibility. Each bunker needed to be functional, livable, and ready for long-term occupancy. One for my family, one for his. Shared spaces would be minimal: only the clinic, isolation room, and training area would be joint. Everything else—bedrooms, kitchens, living areas, dining rooms, storage
would be separate.
I opened my design software and began sketching.
Bunker 1: Alps Family
Living Quarters: Spacious enough for my parents, myself, and a small team of trusted workers. Four bedrooms, private bathrooms. Central common room with seating, entertainment, and a workspace for planning.
Kitchen & Pantry: Industrial-grade kitchen. Pantry stacked with non-perishable goods for long-term storage. Multiple water storage tanks for redundancy.
Medical & Isolation Rooms: Fully equipped mini clinic, shared with Luis' family. Isolation room for potential infections with independent air filtration.
Sustainability: Hydroponic vertical gardens for fruits, vegetables, and herbs. Water purification system connected to a secured underground source.
Security: Reinforced doors, emergency exits, surveillance monitors, and defensive weapon storage.
Bunker 2: Luis Family
Same dimensions: 1,200 square meters, three levels underground. Separate bedrooms, kitchen, living, and storage.
Shared clinic, isolation room, and training area with our bunker, but everything else separated.
Luis had one request I couldn't forget: chickens. He wanted a small, controlled area for eggs and meat. I couldn't help but laugh, imagining him carefully tending a few chickens underground.
I moved through the design layer by layer, floor by floor. Level 1 was operations and security. Level 2 the living quarters, kitchen, dining, bedrooms, and pantry. Level 3 for sustainability: air filtration, backup power, water purification, and the hydroponics.
I carefully calculated hallway widths, ventilation shafts, and reinforced support columns. Every measurement was double-checked. If something went wrong… people could die.
Hours passed. The world outside my window faded into the quiet of the night. I was exhausted, but I couldn't stop.
A soft knock on my door startled me.
"Mia?"
It was my mom, holding a small tray with steaming tea.
"Come in, Mom."
She entered, placing the cup beside my laptop.
"Chamomile," she said softly. "I thought you might still be awake."
I smiled faintly. "Thanks, Mom."
Her eyes scanned the glowing blueprints of the bunkers. "You're still working?"
"I have to finish tonight," I said. "I'll send the design to Luis tomorrow morning. He'll handle the exterior while I finalize the interior."
Mom studied me, concern in her eyes. "You look exhausted."
I hesitated. "I'm… scared, Mom."
"Of what?" she asked gently.
"That it might happen again," I said. My voice shook slightly. "Everything falling apart. Being unprepared. Losing everyone."
She stepped closer, wrapping in a warm embrace.
She whispered. "We're here. You're not alone. Tell us what you need, and we'll help. Always."
Her lips pressed softly to my forehead. I clutched her tightly, letting her calm my racing heart.
For the first time since returning to the past, I felt I wasn't fighting this alone. I wasn't just planning a bunker. I was building a future, for my family, for Luis' family, for all of us.
I returned to my laptop, carefully adjusting room sizes. Bedrooms for my parents, a room for myself, common living areas, kitchens, and pantries all perfectly proportioned. In Luis' bunker, I mirrored the plans with slight modifications: his rooms, his family's quarters, the shared spaces in between. I even sketched out a small area for his chickens, his unusual but oddly endearing request.
Hydroponics racks for my family's food supply. Redundant water filtration. Emergency exits disguised beneath tree lines. Hallways designed for efficient evacuation. Every detail accounted for.
Finally, I leaned back, exhausted but satisfied. The designs were complete. I would email them to Luis before dawn.
Mom leaned over the desk once more. "Drink your tea," she said softly. "Then sleep. Tomorrow will be a long day."
I smiled tiredly. "I will. But I have to finish this now. I can't risk mistakes."
She placed a hand on my shoulder, squeezing gently. "Mia, we trust you. And we're here. You're not alone."
I hugged her tightly, feeling the weight of responsibility shift slightly. With her and Dad support, with Luis' partnership, we could make this work. We could survive. We could be ready.
Finally, I saved the file, organized my notes, and prepared to send everything to Luis. The future felt terrifying… but for the first time, I also felt prepared.
And somehow… hopeful.