Alex

Setbacks

Daniel Meyers stood in the sterile corridor, his body tense as he faced the large mahogany doors. The sweat on his palms and the thundering pulse in his chest only deepened his anxiety. He drew in a long breath, held it, and slowly exhaled. When he finally mustered the courage to knock, the latch buzzed, and the door swung open.

He stepped inside, dwarfed by the vastness of the office. Every step he took seemed to echo in the stillness.

"I am deeply saddened to hear of the latest setbacks, Daniel," came a voice from across the room, deep and smoky.

Daniel stared at the back of a large, leather chair, the figure within shrouded in shadow. His mind raced to choose his words carefully.

"I assure you, sir, it's nothing we can't fix," Daniel said, desperately trying to keep the tremor out of his voice. "Given more time—"

"Time," the voice cut in, sharp and cold, "is a very limited resource. The investors will arrive in two weeks. They expect perfection. If you cannot provide it, I will have no choice but to find someone else who can." The chair spun around, revealing the man—old and unflinchingly stern, his eyes boring into Daniel with fiery intensity.

Daniel swallowed hard. "Yes, sir. I understand, sir."

"Good. Now get out," the man hissed.

Daniel bowed his head and quickly left the office, his heart racing as he hurried down the corridor. He needed to return to her.

When he entered her room, he moved silently, cringing at the soft creak of the door. There she was, lying peacefully, sedated and unaware. Her dark hair fanned across the pillow, her porcelain skin flawless. She was perfect—except for her mind.

How was she able to remember? He had wiped her memories, replaced them with clean, artificial processors. The flashes, the memories—somehow, they had returned. It made no sense.

Daniel approached her bed, a tablet in hand, scrolling through her digital records. His team had combed through every line of code, finding nothing wrong. No anomalies, no corruption. His finger hovered over the button that would reformat her—wipe everything clean. But he couldn't do it. Not without her consent.

Exhaustion weighed on him like a physical force. He sank into the chair by her bedside, rubbing his face with his hands. He hadn't slept in days. Not since the incident.

That look of terror in her eyes, the way she crumpled to the floor in the training center—it haunted him. She had been so scared, so vulnerable, and seeing her like that shattered something inside him.

He needed to fix this. But first, he needed to rest. He was useless to her in this state.

Daniel stood and leaned over her, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. "I'll find a way past this. I promise," he whispered, tracing his fingers down her cheek and clasping her hand. He squeezed it softly, his voice breaking as he repeated, "I promise."

He left her room and made his way to his own, collapsing onto the edge of his bed. He fumbled with the pill bottle in the nightstand, shaking two pills into his hand before downing them with water. The weight of the day pressed down on him as he pulled the blanket tight around his body and shut off the light.

Tomorrow, he would talk to her. She would make the choice. He had to find a solution—for both of their sakes.