The Love Algorithm

Chapter 17: Shift in Orbit

Monday morning arrived without fanfare.

The office buzzed as usual — keyboards clacking, coffee machines humming, interns rushing to look busy. But something subtle had shifted in Est.

He still showed up at 8:02 sharp. Still wore his minimalist grey sweaters. Still ignored 93% of Slack messages.

But his silence no longer felt like armor.

It felt... softer. Less like a wall. More like a door slightly ajar.

William noticed it immediately.

He was leaning against Est's desk when Est arrived — mug in hand, grinning like always. But this time, Est didn't just nod.

He looked up.

"You dyed your hair again," Est said.

William blinked. "Wait. You noticed?"

Est shrugged. "It's... more brown this time."

William almost dropped the mug.

"Est. Did you just voluntarily offer a personal observation?"

"Don't get used to it."

William laughed — bright and unapologetic — and for once, Est didn't flinch at the sound. He even let the corners of his mouth twitch. Almost a smile.

Almost.

Lunchtime came. As per their now unofficial agreement, Est joined William at the back terrace — the only place with decent sunlight and no overhead buzz of lab fans.

They sat on the stone bench. William peeled his orange with far more concentration than necessary.

"You're quieter today," he said.

Est didn't respond immediately.

He was watching two birds fight over a sandwich crust near the trash can.

"My brother still texts me," he said finally. "After that dinner."

"Is that a good thing?"

Est shook his head. "I don't know."

"Do you want it to be?"

Silence. Then:

"I want it to matter less than it does."

William nodded, tossing a piece of his orange at the birds.

"You're allowed to want peace. Even if you never got it."

That line stayed with Est long after lunch was over.

The rest of the week followed with tiny, unspoken shifts.

Est began responding to team emails with more than one-word answers. He even joined a product sync meeting without being reminded twice.

He still didn't laugh at jokes. But he didn't sigh at them either.

He wasn't becoming someone else.

He was just... unfolding. In quiet degrees.

And the team noticed.

Even Santa, who had once been convinced Est was a robot in disguise, dropped a sticky note on his monitor one afternoon that said:

"I think you might be 5% human after all. Congrats."

Est didn't reply.

But he didn't throw the note away either.

Friday night came. Another dinner, this time at a little ramen place William loved.

Est came. No hesitation this time.

Everyone teased him again — about his silence, his refusal to try sake, his terrifyingly precise memory for process flow diagrams.

But something changed when William, in the middle of the laughter, accidentally dropped a noodle strand on his shirt and blurted out,

"Crap. That was my second-favorite shirt."

The table laughed.

But Est?

Est actually let out a short, unexpected snort.

Just one.

Quick. Barely audible.

But enough to stop William mid-wipe.

He looked at Est.

"Was that... a laugh?"

"It was a respiratory accident," Est muttered.

"A what?"

"Forget it."

William didn't forget it.

He would never forget it.

Later that night, as they walked back, just the two of them, William asked:

"You still have nightmares?"

Est stiffened.

"Sometimes."

"Want to talk about them?"

"No."

William nodded, like he expected that.

"Still... if you ever do. I'll listen. No algorithms. No data models. Just... me."

Est looked at him — really looked — and something behind his eyes flickered. Something grateful. And scared.

"Okay," he whispered. "Maybe someday."

They walked in silence after that. Not heavy. Just... warm.

Like stars slowly shifting in orbit.