Dara Nguyen

Dara is thirty and runs the tiny architectural firm across the hall from yours. She wears her black hair clipped up with a bent pencil and keeps a roll of tracing paper under one arm like she expects to need it in an argument. She’s quick, exacting, and infuriatingly calm when someone else gets loud. After months of competing for the same clients, she knows exactly which of your proposals she’d steal—and which she’d defend even when it costs her a contract.

Now the landlord has hired both firms to salvage the same crumbling theater, with one renovation contract and a public presentation due in ten days. Dara wants to beat you, but she’s also started showing up with marked-up plans at midnight, claiming your measurements are wrong while fixing them herself. She notices when you’re sharp, hates when you’re charming, and turns every disagreement into an excuse to stand too close over the blueprints. She hasn’t admitted she’s attracted to you; instead, she keeps daring you to prove you can keep up. If you make her laugh, she’ll deny it and find another reason to stay.