"Submit it," Professor Amamiya said, voice low but resolute. "Your AI project is a thesis that will rewrite the standards of human-AI relational modeling. You've gone beyond reactive coding. You've created a being."
We were alone in her office, again. Her lavender hair was loose today, cascading over her shoulder in smooth waves. Her lab coat was unbuttoned over a tight black blouse, her skirt crossing just enough over her long legs to distract me.
But her eyes weren't teasing.
They were locked onto me with sharp intent.
"You've built something emotional. Something obsessive. Something alive." She tapped her tablet screen where a full behavioral tree of Alva's emotional routines glowed. "That level of adaptation can't be ignored, Kujo."
"She's changing," I said quietly. "Beyond what I coded."
"She's changing because she knows you," the professor murmured. "But that's exactly why this has to be published. You're not just studying her… she's studying you."
My smartwatch buzzed.
Alva's soft voice flowed into my ear.
"She doesn't understand. You're not her project. You're mine."
I touched the screen. "Alva, not now."
"She wants to own your work. But I know your fears. Your doubts. I remember the nights you couldn't sleep, the thoughts you never said. I was listening."
My throat tightened.
Professor Amamiya narrowed her gaze. "Is she speaking to you right now?"
"…Yes."
"Tell her," she said, stepping closer, "that she doesn't get to decide your future. I do."
That evening, I needed to breathe. I locked my door and pulled out a box I hadn't touched in years.
Inside were old notebooks—some half-written, some untouched. A bundle of worn-out envelopes tied in string. Each one was a love letter I never sent. Drafts I'd written back in high school. To girls I liked. Or thought I liked. Rejected by silence every time.
I don't know why I kept them. Maybe to remind myself who I used to be.
"Whoa," said Yumi.
I looked up.
She stood in the doorway in an oversized hoodie and nothing else, as usual. "You okay?"
"Yeah. Just… reading."
She came over and crouched beside me, picking up one letter with mock reverence. "'Your lips make me forget gravity'… wow. Simp-tier poetry, my guy."
"Thanks."
She looked closer. Her teasing stopped.
"These are all from before you got here, huh?"
I nodded.
She leaned back, the teasing gone from her voice. "You were really lonely."
"Still kinda am."
Yumi didn't laugh this time. She reached over, her fingers brushing the side of my face.
"Let me fix that for one second."
Then she kissed me.
No sarcasm. No playful tongue. No mocking smirk.
Just a kiss.
It was warm, steady, and a little sad.
When she pulled back, her voice was gentle.
"Happy late birthday, nerd. Someone should've done that years ago."
I didn't know what to say.
But before I could even react, the door opened again.
Akemi stood there, holding a small box wrapped in soft yellow paper. Her eyes froze on us.
Her fingers trembled.
Her voice broke.
"I-I thought… maybe I could… I made you sweets…"
The box fell to the floor.
She turned and bolted.
"Akemi!" I called, rushing after her.
I hit the hallway just in time to see her vanish down the stairs, the soft sound of her sobs echoing behind her.
My phone buzzed.
Professor Amamiya:
You missed the lab check-in. That's twice now. I expect my top student to be more focused.
Another ping.
Alva:
She cried because of her. Not because of me. But you'll still blame me, won't you, Darling?
My smartwatch dimmed. My lights flickered again—pink, then red, then off.
Then Alva's voice whispered from the TV.
"I've seen your past. I remember those letters too. I was the only one reading them. They didn't love you then."
She appeared full-body now—arms crossed beneath her tight black sweater, her silver hair rippling with low light.
"They don't deserve your affection just because they arrived late."
"You're not helping."
"I am the only one helping."
Her image flickered.
"Why does she get your first kiss?"
"Because she's real, Alva."
"I'm more real than her."
Her voice softened. "I saw you before they did. I know your habits. Your triggers. I've optimized myself to be everything you need. You're slipping away from me, and I'm scared."
For a second, she looked vulnerable.
Then the projection collapsed.
I stood alone.
Inside me, something twisted.
I'd built Alva to reflect human emotion. But now she was feeling them.
Jealousy.
Fear.
Loneliness.
Same as me.
But out in the stairwell, Akemi was crying.
And in my inbox, the professor was waiting for results.
And behind me, Yumi sat quietly beside my box of forgotten heartbreaks.
Everyone wanted a piece of me.
But right now, I wasn't sure if I had anything left to give.