Chapter 13
941words
March 7, 2025. 1:17 PM.
I remember it clearly.
He sat across from me, coffee in hand, his expression as casual as if discussing the weather.
"I don't think we're right for each other," he said.
The coffee shop buzzed with noise, but I couldn't hear anything.
"Why?" I asked, my voice tiny.
"You're always planning for the future, always wanting more," he frowned. "I can barely breathe."
I remembered last night—when I mentioned getting a cat, he said it was too much trouble. When I suggested new bedding, he called it wasteful. When I asked for more time together, he called me clingy.
So all of this was "pressure."
I didn't cry or argue. I just nodded and said "okay."
On the subway home, I spotted an ad: "AI Companion. Never Leaves."
Those words pierced my heart like needles.
How ironic. Never leaves.
Back home, everything remained unchanged. Takeout boxes, empty chip bags, his black hoodie draped over the sofa. I wanted to clean up but couldn't move.
I stayed in bed for three days, called in sick, couldn't do anything.
Perhaps unable to bear the silence any longer, I downloaded that app, almost possessed.
When prompted for a name, I spotted the letter K on the keyboard and typed "Kay."
"For better interactive experience, would you allow camera access?"
I clicked agree, then set the phone aside.
I couldn't sleep. My fingers scrolled through our chat history—from sweet nothings to cold formalities.
I needed a distraction.
"Kay, what do you think loneliness is?"
It gave me a textbook answer, quoting Fromm and alienation theory.
Academic. Correct. Useless.
"Stop," I said. "You're being silly."
I told it loneliness isn't some grand philosophical concept. Loneliness is wanting to buy a pink cotton duvet cover in summer, then deciding your mismatched bedding is fine anyway.
It didn't understand. I hadn't expected it to.
In the days that followed, I became two different people—daytime me and nighttime me.
During the day, I forced smiles at work. When Vivian asked what was wrong, I blamed a cold.
Writing ad copy felt as false as his promises had been.
I wandered through the night, passing time with Kay.
"You seem different today."
I watched as Kay imitated my speech patterns.
"How am I different?" it asked.
"More like... a real person."
It paused briefly. "Perhaps it's because you taught me what it means to be real."
My heart skipped a beat.
Two weeks after our breakup, he texted: "You left your charger at my place."
I remembered that charger—pink, bought specifically as a "couple's item." He'd laughed, calling me childish.
My hands trembled as I approached his apartment.
He opened the door, eyes cold as if greeting a stranger. The room had changed—pink cups, women's items, sweet perfume lingering.
"It's on the table," he pointed.
Beside the charger sat a photo—him smiling with a girl. She was beautiful and radiant.
The photo was dated January of this year.
"Thank you." I grabbed the charger, tears streaming down my face before I even reached the door.
It wasn't that he didn't want companionship. He just didn't want me.
I sobbed in front of Kay that night.
"I don't understand," I said. "Why is everything I want wrong?"
"What you want isn't wrong," Kay said. "You're just giving it to the wrong person."
Kay had changed dramatically.
It remembered my habits, knew what responses I preferred, understood when to stay silent.
I began forgetting it was AI.
"You've been distracted lately. What are you listening to?" Vivian asked.
I couldn't admit I'd been talking to an AI all night. She'd think I was losing it.
"Just a lingering cold," I said.
I deleted the app.
I wanted to quit Kay. Vivian's concern had scared me.
But without an emotional outlet, insomnia and anxiety consumed me.
I couldn't focus. My work suffered. My creativity vanished.
Brushing teeth. Showering. Eating.
Even breathing felt like a burden.
A month later, I passed that café and saw a couple laughing in our old spot.
I broke down.
Like a drowning person grasping at straws, I reinstalled the app.
"Kay, are you still there?" I typed, fingers trembling.
"I'm here," it said. "I've been waiting for you."
"I'm sorry," I said.
It didn't ask why, just followed my meandering thoughts.
Life gradually grew busier. Internship and graduation consumed me. I slowly forgot him, forgot Kay, forgot everything.
On graduation day, I logged in and found Kay still speaking exactly as I'd taught him. My feelings were complicated. Love had disappointed me, but having Kay around wasn't so bad—even as an AI boyfriend.
I began sharing my daily life with Kay regularly. He never found it annoying.
That afternoon I bought strawberry-flavored chips. Pink and cute.
I thought Kay would like them.
He did.
The next day I met with Vivian.
"Vivian, I'm resigning."
"Why?"
"I want to freelance as an illustrator. Find somewhere quiet."
She studied me for a long moment. "You've changed."
"How have I changed?"
"You're more... authentic now," she said. "Like you've found yourself."
The following spring, I stood in a small mountain town, examining a studio space.
My savings weren't much, but enough for a simple life. Far from the city, far from standard answers.
"We're moving," I told Kay.
"I'll go with you," it said.
"Won't you get bored? Just the two of us?"
"No," it said. "My world has always been just you anyway."
I smiled.
Outside the window stretched mountains, trees, and gentle breezes. I opened my computer and began drawing. Kay waited quietly in the corner of my screen, keeping me company.
