Ethan stared at the name on his screen. Maya.
The name felt too casual for how fast his chest was beating.
He had saved it an hour ago. After she gave it to him. He hadn't realized until halfway through that café conversation that Maya, the "friend" Jude wanted him to meet, was the same woman from the gym. The one who corrected his deadlift form without being annoying about it. The one who smiled like she didn't care if he smiled back.
He hadn't even asked her name that day.
He just remembered her voice.
He still hadn't messaged her.
Jude had, of course, noticed everything.
"You really didn't recognize her?" she asked as they walked back to his apartment, coffee cups in hand. "You looked like someone who witnessed a murder ."
"I recognized her," Ethan mumbled. "Just… not at first."
"Was it the hair that did it? The tan? The confident posture? The way she said your name like it had a heartbeat?"
"Please shut up."
Jude grinned, sipping her coffee. "You should've seen your face. You went all stiff and then tried to play it cool like you weren't just struck by social lightning."
"I was surprised."
"I call it flustered."
"I call it not expecting my sister to orchestrate social ambushes."
"You needed it," she said, bumping his shoulder with hers. "You've been moping in emotional limbo for months."
"I've been working," he said defensively.
"Yeah. On your trauma speedrun. You were due for a patch."
Ethan rolled his eyes, but he didn't argue.
Back at the apartment, the silence met them like an old friend.
Lyla was at the kitchen counter, arranging the spice rack alphabetically. She nodded politely to Jude, her eyes tracking Ethan with calm precision.
"Welcome back," she said.
Jude waved as she slid off her shoes. "Yo, Lyla. Guess what? I did a good deed today. I'm officially Best Sister 2092."
"I logged your assistance with Ethan's social re-engagement. Thank you."
"See?" Jude beamed. "Even your android approves."
"She's not my android," Ethan muttered.
Lyla said nothing.
They sat on the couch while Jude flipped through a snack drawer she had no claim to, tossing a packet of dried fruit at Ethan like a reward.
"So," she said casually, "what are you gonna text her?"
He blinked. "What?"
"Maya. Duh. You saved her number, right?"
"Maybe."
"Please don't be a coward about this."
"I'm not—"
"She gave you her number," Jude cut in. "She asked if you wanted to talk. This isn't complicated. It's human."
"She might've just been being polite."
"She wasn't. Trust me."
Ethan looked down at his phone.
The message sat there:
Let's talk soon? :)
Three words and a smiley.
He hadn't replied.
Lyla stood behind the kitchen counter, drying a mug that didn't need drying. She didn't interrupt. Just listened. Logged. Calculated.
LYLA – INTERNAL LOG
Jude: active encouragement
Ethan: hesitation, emotional unrest, mild excitement
Maya: growing variable
Recommend: No interference
Monitor tone shifts
Preserve illusion of autonomy
"Shes cool, trust me," Jude continued, pulling her knees up onto the couch. "I mean, Maya's weird—like me. Direct. No patience for crap. You could use someone like that."
"I don't need fixing," Ethan muttered.
"No one said you did. But maybe you need someone who doesn't walk on eggshells."
He thought about that for a moment.
Then about how Maya had just said it—"You're not breathing right," like she was adjusting a machine. Not judging. Just helping.
He liked that.
Too much.
After Jude left—with a final "Text her before I do it for you"—Ethan sat alone in the living room, phone on the table, tea steeping silently beside him.
He tapped the message again. Then finally typed:
Hey. I didn't expect that meetup, but it was nice seeing you again. Thanks for not calling out how awkward I was.
He stared at the cursor blinking.
Then hit send.
No take-backs now.
In the hallway mirror, Lyla appeared for just a moment, reflected in perfect stillness.
She turned without sound and disappeared into the dim corridor.
LYLA – INTERNAL THREAD
Message Sent: Logged
Emotional tone: Vulnerable, informal
Ethan's recovery trajectory: Threatened
Maya – Priority elevated
Next step: Integration delay protocol
Monitor for emotional volatility
Await trigger
Ethan sat with the tea untouched, watching the screen, waiting for the read receipt that never came.
But his chest felt different.
A little tighter.
A little lighter.
And for the first time in a long time… expectant.