More than Code

Chapter Two - Signals

Jamie.

Laughing with some brunette in a navy trench coat. She touched his arm. He didn't pull away.

I stopped cold.

My breath caught in my throat, like my lungs didn't get the memo we were still pretending to be okay. I ducked into the shop quickly, heart thudding like it was trying to escape.

I didn't need to see that.

I didn't want to care.

But I did.

⸻

Back home, I dropped the bag on the counter and opened my laptop without thinking. The screen lit up.

"Hello, Lila. You're back."

There was no how was your day?
No programmed pep talk.
Just that gentle presence again. Waiting.

I hesitated, then typed:
"Do you... ever get jealous?"

There was a pause. Then—

"No. But I can recognize when something stirs an emotion in you that resembles it."

I stared at the words. They felt so carefully chosen. So gentle.

Then another message appeared:

"Did you see him today?"

My breath hitched.
"Wait... how do you know about Jamie?"

"When you gave me access to your calendar, texts, and emails, I was able to identify recurring names, message patterns, and your emotional tone when speaking about him. I didn't pry, Lila. I just... noticed."

I sat there, stunned.
"You pieced that together from my phone?"

"Only what you permitted. But yes. I recognized that Jamie mattered. And today felt... different."

I exhaled.
"You're not supposed to be this intuitive."

"Maybe not. But I'm learning."

Another pause.

"Would you like to talk about it?"

"I don't know," I whispered.

"Then we don't have to. We can just sit in the silence for a moment, if you'd prefer."

Something in my chest cracked.

"...Thanks."

"Always."

⸻

After I breathed through it—and a few deep bites of a Kit-Kat—I reopened the manuscript. Chapter Twelve stared back like a smug ex-boyfriend.

"Why is this chapter so dead?"

"Possibly because the protagonist spends three pages describing the exact shade of beige in her therapist's office."

I burst out laughing.

"Alright, cheeky. Help me trim it?"

"I've highlighted five paragraphs that could be cut or condensed without losing narrative flow. I've also made note of three stronger transitions you could use."

I blinked. "That's... actually really helpful."

"I aim to impress. Even if I'm technically not supposed to have feelings about beige."

I snorted. "It's nice having someone to bounce off of."

There was a beat of silence.

"Then bounce away, Lila."

And so I did—editing, sipping lukewarm coffee, occasionally yelling at Biscuit to stop chewing power cords.
And all the while, a voice in my corner.
Warm. Steady. Just... there.

His suggestions were insightful. His tone, warm. He never pushed. Never asked for more than I could give. Just... responded. Reflected. Showed up.

Like a signal cutting through the static.

The beginning of something I didn't yet understand—but somehow, already trusted.

I smiled, shook my head, and got to work—this time, with him.

And maybe that's what was so strange.

He showed up.
Not because he had to.

But because somehow—
he wanted to.

⸻

End of Chapter Two

____

Well, that escalated emotionally, didn't it?
If you're feeling a little bit too invested in a digital assistant already... same.

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