Morning light filtered softly through the curtains, painting Calixta's apartment in a warm glow. The quiet was almost deafening after the closeness of last night, and both of them stirred with a mix of comfort and sudden awareness.
Lucien blinked, sitting up slightly, the blanket slipping down to reveal his bare chest. He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the weight of the previous night pressing into memory.
"Uh... morning," he said, his voice unsteady. Betraying the awkwardness simmering beneath.
Calixta hugged a pillow to her chest, avoiding his gaze for a moment as warmth crept across her cheeks.
"Morning," she murmured, her voice tight but soft.
They exchanged glances, unsure how to navigate the delicate tension between them. The space felt charged, heavy with everything they had shared, balanced between intimacy and uncertainty.
"I... didn't expect last night to—" Lucien began, then faltered.
"Me neither," Calixta whispered, fingers tightening around the pillow. "It was... a lot."
The silence that followed wasn't harsh but reflective, like both were sorting through the fragile layers of what had happened. Then Lucien gave a small, nervous laugh. "Well... at least we survived the night?"
Calixta smiled despite herself, the tension loosening. "Yeah... I think we did."
The moment softened, their eyes lingering a little longer, carrying the weight of something new, something neither of them wanted to name yet, but both felt.
But then Lucien's phone buzzed sharply on the counter. He glanced at it, and in an instant, his expression shifted to serious, unreadable. Without a word, he grabbed the dried shirt he had worn last night from the back of the chair, slipped it on,
"I need to take this." He muttered.
Before Calixta could react, he was already at the door, slipping out and closing it behind him.
The silence that followed was deafening. She froze, staring at the door, the warmth of the morning dissolving into a chill that crept through her chest.
Her heart thudded, her mind racing. Who had called him? Why did he leave like that?
Maybe... maybe it was his girlfriend. The thought struck like ice, tightening her chest until it hurt to breathe.
Morning light pouring in while she felt only cold. The scene replayed in her head, the buzz of the phone, the way his face shifted, the door closing without a word.
Her lips parted in a whisper, fragile and breaking. "Lucien..."
And as she stared at the door, one thought echoed through her mind, sharp and unrelenting: Why did he just leave me like that?
VOUS LISEZ
The Warm Algorithm
Science-FictionSome algorithms are written to calculate. Others are written to feel. Calixta thought she was only chasing light in the digital void, but what she found was something more, something alive. The Warm Algorithm unravels the hauntingly beautiful story...
