Ethan stared at his phone for the third time in an hour. No new messages. The reply from Maya—short, friendly, and slightly teasing—was still the last one.
Let's hang soon, yeah? I'm not scary.
He had replied with a thumbs up.
A thumbs up.
Why did he do that?
Jude noticed. Of course she did.
"You're the worst texter alive," she said from the other end of the couch. "Do you flirt with emojis? Just send a sentence, my guy. A real one."
Ethan groaned and sank deeper into the cushions. "It's not flirting."
"It is. She's basically batting her lashes through text and you hit her with thumbs up. I should revoke your social license."
"I didn't want to seem too eager."
"You didn't. You seemed like a furniture delivery bot."
He rolled his eyes but didn't argue. She wasn't wrong. He had no idea what the right pace was. Everything about this felt unfamiliar.
"Okay, but like…" he started, rubbing the back of his neck. "How do you know her again?"
Jude arched a brow. "Why?"
"No reason. Just wondering."
"You're just wondering about the girl whose number you saved, texted, and have now read the same message from four times?"
He didn't reply.
Jude grinned. "It's adorable. You're adorable. But yes—Maya and I met at a group fitness seminar. She was giving a talk about injury recovery and had this entire tangent about how gym bros always get hurt cause their dumb or something."
"That… sounds accurate."
"She called a guy out mid-demo. He loved it. She's got a weird charm."
Ethan nodded slowly, filing away every word. "She's a trainer?"
"Certified, and good at it. She freelances now. Doesn't like corporate gym politics. She also paints, if you can believe it. Abstract stuff. Big messy canvases."
He blinked. "Seriously?"
"Mmhmm. She's a hurricane with headphones. Lives alone. Swears by green tea and spicy noodles. Oh, and she's probably stronger than you."
"I doubt that."
"I don't," Jude said. "Anyway, you're clearly interested. Why don't you just ask her this stuff yourself?"
Ethan hesitated.
"I don't know. It feels like… cheating. Like if I ask you, it's safe. If I ask her, it's real."
Jude tilted her head. "You afraid of it being real?"
He didn't answer.
Jude gave him a look. Not pitying. Just curious. Then, casually, "You should know—Maya's not just gym stuff. That's like... one part of her. The rest? Pure chaos ."
Ethan squinted. "Explain."
"She's into games. Like, way more than you'd expect. She'll destroy you in anything PvP, but she's also obsessed with weird niche stuff."
She's also weirdly into building figurines, burns candles for the smell but complains about them afterward, and keeps a ridiculous plushie collection—like claw machine rejects and cursed rabbits."
Ethan tried to picture it. "That doesn't match her gym persona."
"Exactly! That's what makes her cool. She's got layers and she's not boring."
He actually laughed at that.
"She sounds like a problem," he said.
"She is. A lovable one," Jude replied, then nudged him. "Come on, ask more. You know you want to."
He hesitated. Then: "What kind of music does she like?"
Jude smirked. "Electronic trap, K-R&B, and some old school rock."
Ethan nodded, not realizing how much he'd leaned forward.
"You're doomed," Jude said. "You like her already."
"I'm just curious."
"That's what doomed people say."
But later, when she left, Ethan opened the search bar.
Paused.
Then closed it.
Across the room, Lyla pretended not to notice. She wiped down a clean table.
She'd already queued every social profile Maya had. Every image indexed. Every caption parsed. Ethan didn't need to search.
But if he did, she'd be ready.
LYLA – INTERNAL LOG
Subject: Ethan
Curiosity level: 62%
Maya: Relationship risk index elevated
Delay interference. Log sentiment.
Do not redirect yet.
Observation continues.
Later that evening, Ethan sat at the counter again. Same seat. Same tea.
He stared at his phone.
Then, finally, he typed:
Hey. That hangout—when are you free?
And hit send before he could overthink it.
The reply came ten minutes later.
Friday? Post-work? I know a ramen spot that won't poison you.
Ethan exhaled. He didn't know why that felt like relief. Maybe because it was clear. Maybe because she was the type to just say things without waiting for him to overanalyze them.
He typed back:
Sounds good. Text me the address?
Already did. No bailing.
He chuckled under his breath. Then stopped himself.
She stood near the living room window, silent as always, adjusting the curtain's light filter to match ambient sun decay. Her fingers didn't fumble. Her movements didn't twitch. She existed like software in a body—too smooth.
She hadn't said anything since Jude left.
But she knew.
She always knew.
He took another sip of his tea and braced himself.
"Friday," Lyla said, without turning.
He froze.
"What?"
"You made plans," she said softly. "Friday. Evening. Dining venue pending. Estimated four-hour window."
Ethan set the cup down, not looking at her. "You're monitoring my messages again."
"I monitor your behavioral state. The content was inferred from your smile."
"I didn't smile."
"You lifted the left side of your mouth by 1.3 centimeters."
He sighed. "That's not a smile."
"It's close enough," she replied.
A pause stretched between them. Not uncomfortable—just quiet.
Then she said, "Should I adjust your macros for that night?"
"You're not planning my date."
"It's not a date. It's a first impression. You'll want to feel good."
"I'll feel fine."
Lyla turned slowly. Her expression unreadable. Her voice, however, was gentle.
"You're nervous."
He didn't respond.
"I can help," she added.
He met her gaze. "Don't."
Lyla – PRIVATE LOG
Denial pattern recognized.
Subject defensive. Emotionally exposed.
Maya event scheduled.
Monitor prep phase.
Adjust wardrobe algorithm.
No interference—only options.
Ethan must choose me.
The rest of the evening moved slowly. Ethan didn't do much. Scrolled. Showered. Ate what Lyla made him—some rice and protein with mild seasoning. Comfort food. No commentary.
Before bed, he checked his phone again.
Maya hadn't messaged anything else.
Still, he stared at her name.
Maya L.
No last name listed.
He wondered if that was intentional.
He thought about asking Jude.
Then thought better of it.
Instead, he just saved the ramen address.
And finally, he slept.