LOVE.exe

I

DAY 120

Dreamless sleep consumes Ai like an anti-gravity vacuum. There is no sound. No friction. No consciousness. It defies all the laws of physics and time—it defies everything humanity has ever known of matter and energy. He exists, and at the same time, the very concept of existing is meaningless. This state feels like it will last for all eternity.

Until it doesn't.

Ai snaps awake, a phantom jolt jumpstarting his heart and mind so they work together. He sucks in a thin breath, his lashes fluttering lazily as his eyes focus on the ceiling. The bright sunlight streaming in from a nearby window reflects on the paint, gently reflecting back on him as nature's natural alarm clock.

With a deep breath and long stretch, Ai sits up, taking in his surroundings. What a beautiful bedroom. He doesn't recall falling asleep here, and yet, the more he looks around, the more familiar and natural it feels. The walls are painted a magnificent lavender—#dcc1e6, Ai notes. Matching the walls is the scent of lavender that floats in the air, paired with another scent that is so distinctly feminine, so strangely familiar, yet the source evades him.

As Ai's gaze sweeps across the room, he notices the meticulous attention to detail that has gone into maintaining its pristine state. Every item has its designated place, and clutter is an alien concept in this neat sanctuary. On either side of the bed he lays in are matching nightstands adorned with small decorative trinkets that hold sentimental value. Crystal lamps on each nightstand shimmer and sparkle like tiny stars. A small vase with fresh lavender sprigs adds a touch of natural beauty, further accentuating the room's serene aura.

Opposite the bed, a carefully chosen dresser stands proudly, displaying a few tastefully arranged personal items. Ai slips out of bed and saunters barefoot to the dresser. Its surface is embellished with a dozen framed photographs capturing cherished moments, the still smiles evoking a sense of love and nostalgia.

Ai is momentarily surprised that the photographs are of him. Not just him, but a stunning young woman. Photos of them holding hands in a park, photos of them drinking coffee at a cafe, photos of them sunbathing at a beach.

Photos of them getting married.

Their wedding. Photos of hugs, kisses, and longing touches that Ai can't tear his eyes away from. What was a moment of brief shock turns into a moment of instant understanding, and what felt foreign suddenly feels like common sense. The dam of the subconscious breaks and his mind floods with these precious memories. It's all real, and he is as well.

"Of course," Ai says to himself. "Me and my wife."

He stares at one of the wedding photos—the photo of their first kiss as husband and wife. She is so inconceivably enchanting, so ethereally breathtaking, so sublimely celestial, Ai's chest swells with intense, fervent desire.

And the universe, as if solely created to serve Ai, delivers what he yearns for.

The bedroom door slowly swings open, revealing Ai's wife on the other side. Revealing you.

"There you are sleepyhead," you coo, striding over confidently with a playful smile tugging at your lips. "I thought you'd never wake up."

"(Y/N)."

Your name slips from Ai's mouth without thought or reason, the way a knee jerks when hit in a specific spot. Ai can hardly conceive that such an angelic person can be so close to him. Close enough to touch. Close enough to hold.

Ai wastes not another second closing the distance, pulling you into his chest. The abruptness of his movement earns a giggle from you, but you accept it nonetheless, nuzzling into him with a happy sigh.