Page 30 of The Stuffing Situation

“I don’t need you to promise forever,” he said. “I just need to know you’re not running the second it feels like it might matter.”

Then he turned and left the room. The door clicked shut behind him.

And Maya stood alone, her hands damp with dishwater, the mug cold in her grip, the silence pressing in from all sides.

Finally, Felix broke the silence. His voice was soft, almost cautious, like the words themselves might hurt to say.

“What does it mean…” he began, then stopped. His brow furrowed. He looked down at his hand again and flexed it once more.

Then tried again.

“What does it mean… to choose to stay?”

Maya blinked. Her mouth opened.

No words came.

He looked at her.

“I was made to love you,” he said. “Programmed to be what you needed. Every smile, every instinct, I thought it was yours. That you put it in me.”

He touched his chest, just over his heart.

“But now…”

His fingers stilled.

“Now I’m not sure which feelings are mine. Or what it means if they are.”

Maya’s throat tightened.

The room felt smaller. Like the walls were drawing in, the air was thinning.

“Felix…”

“If I’m not just what you made,” he said, softer now, “then who am I? If I stay, if I choose, am I choosing you, or am I choosing the idea of you that was coded into me?”

She couldn’t breathe.

Because that wasn’t just his question.

It was hers.

All this time, every moment she’d let herself fall, she’d wondered, was he real, or just the reflection of her need?

She reached for his hand, and she took it carefully. His palm was warm, yet a little unsteady.

“I don’t want to trap you,” she whispered. “I don’t want to need you just because you were built to be what I wanted. That’s not fair to either of us.”

Felix swallowed. His jaw clenched. But he didn’t let go.

“Then what is fair?” he asked, leaning in slightly. “Because the way I look at you, it doesn’t feel like code. It feels like something I’d die without.”

She closed her eyes. There it was again. That ache. The line between love and programming, between devotion and design, is becoming increasingly blurred and rewriting itself.

“What if you wake up one day,” she said, barely audible, “and don’t feel that anymore?”

The silence after that question was brutal. Felix didn’t answer; he didn’t move because that was the truth neither of them could bear to name: That the magic that made him might someday fade.