Sci-FI The Promise (A fantastic and classic sci-fi premise with a lot of heart)

[redarc121]

Chapter 36

The mall was a temple of consumerism, a sprawling ecosystem of chrome, glass, and tantalizing scents. Eva, who usually processed environments as data—footfall statistics, acoustic damping coefficients, optimal customer flow patterns—was today operating on a different frequency. Today, she was on a mission: Field Research: The Shopping Spree Ritual.

Arjun met her at the entrance, looking slightly bewildered, as if he’d been teleported from his dark cave of servers into a blindingly bright dimension of perfume and pop music. His eyes widened when he saw her. She was dressed for the part—effortlessly chic, a look that said ‘I might accidentally buy this entire store.’

“You came!” she said, beaming, and hooked her arm through his with a proprietorial air that made his heart skip a beat.

“Where’s the fire?” he asked, letting her lead him into the gleaming atrium.

“No fire,” she stated, her eyes scanning the directory with laser focus. “Only opportunity. First target: accessories. A handbag is a foundational element for a successful outing. It must balance capacity, aesthetic appeal, and brand cachet.”

Arjun blinked. “Right. Cachet. Very important.”

The first store was a haven of soft leather and quiet luxury. Eva moved through it not like a giddy shopper, but like a forensic investigator. She picked up bags, assessing their weight, strap length, and internal compartmentalization with a serious frown.

“This one has unsatisfactory zipper action,” she declared, rejecting a thousand-dollar clutch.

She finally settled on a sleek, minimalist crossbody bag. She held it up, looking at Arjun. “Well? Does it elevate my overall aesthetic?”

He was utterly lost. He’d never been asked to evaluate aesthetic elevation before. “You… you look great. You always look great. The bag is… also great?”

Eva sighed, a fondly exasperated sound. “A ‘great’ is not a data point. Is it a ‘wow’? A ‘stunning’? A ‘I must acquire this for my girlfriend immediately’?”

A sales associate glided over, smelling commission. “An excellent choice, ma’am. It’s our last one.”

That did it. Eva’s eyes lit up. “Scarcity increases perceived value by an average of 32%.” She looked at Arjun, her expression shifting from analyst to pleading girlfriend. Her bottom lip jutted out just so. “Baby? It’s the last one.”

Arjun was a goner. He saw the logic (scarcity!), he saw the beauty (her face!), and he felt the strange, primal urge to be the provider. He pulled out his wallet before his brain could engage his bank account. “We’ll take it.”

The victory was swift. The bag was boxed. The ritual had begun.

Next was a clothing boutique. Here, Eva’s process was even more fascinating to watch. She’d hold up a dress, look at Arjun, and ask for his opinion. He’d stammer something like, “It’s blue?” and she’d nod, filing his response away as ‘unhelpful but emotionally supportive,’ before making her own, lightning-fast decision based on fabric composition and cut.

She disappeared into a changing room with an armful of clothes and emerged ten minutes later in a stunning emerald green dress that perfectly complemented the ‘Hague Blue’ accent wall she’d somehow internalized as her color palette.

She did a small turn. “Well?”

Arjun’s mouth went dry. All he could manage was a strangled, “Wow.”

Eva’s face broke into a brilliant smile. “ ‘Wow’ is a 9.8 on the approval scale. Excellent data point.” She looked at the price tag, then back at him, a mischievous glint in her eye. “The ‘wow’ has a significant financial correlation.”

“I don’t care,” Arjun said, and he meant it. The look on her face was worth every rupee.

The boxes piled up. A pair of shoes with “optimal height-to-comfort ratio.” A silk scarf that “added a necessary variable of texture.” Arjun’s credit card emitted a soft, whimpering sound every time it was swiped, but he just kept grinning like an idiot.

During a brief respite at a coffee shop, Arjun checked his phone. A text from Rohan had come in an hour ago.

ROHAN: Status report. How bankrupt are we?
ARJUN: We’ve moved from ‘ financially concerned’ to ‘embracing the inevitable.’ She just called a pair of heels ‘a worthy investment in vertical optimization.’
ROHAN: I told you. She’s a menace. A beautiful, brilliant menace.
ARJUN: The best menace.

He looked up from his phone to see Eva not analyzing the crowd or the architecture, but simply watching him with a soft, unguarded expression. The calculator behind her eyes was gone. In its place was something warmer.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice quiet, losing its analytical edge. “For today. For not saying no.”

“I could never say no to you,” he said, and it was the simplest, truest thing he’d ever said.

She reached across the table and took his hand, her thumb stroking his knuckles. The new ring on her finger sparkled. “The acquisition of goods was satisfactory,” she said, her tone formal, but her eyes were dancing. “But the primary bonding mechanism was the company. Your presence has a 100% success rate in elevating my happiness metrics.”

Arjun laughed, bringing her hand to his lips and kissing it. “Good. Because my credit card’s success rate is now at 0%.”

She giggled, that real, unfiltered sound he loved. The mission was complete. The data was gathered. The Shopping Spree Ritual was deemed a success, not because of the bags at their feet, but because of the shared, silly, wonderful memory now stored in both of their hearts.

 

[redarc121]

Chapter 37

The caffeine had fortified him. The mountain of shopping bags surrounding their table was a testament to Eva’s efficient, if expensive, methodology. Arjun felt a surge of something—confidence, love, madness—and leaned forward.

“My turn,” he announced.

Eva looked up from admiring the stitching on her new bag. “Your turn for what?”

“You’ve optimized your wardrobe based on your algorithms,” he said, a playful challenge in his eyes. “Now, let me choose one thing. My choice. No data, no metrics. Just… my taste.”

Eva’s head tilted. This was a fascinating deviation from the established protocol. A variable she hadn’t accounted for. Her first instinct was to analyze the risk: His taste may not align with optimal aesthetic parameters. But the look on his face—hopeful, excited—overrode the logic. This was part of the bonding ritual. The reciprocal gesture.

“Acknowledged,” she said, a slow smile spreading on her lips. “I will enter a state of zero-input resistance. The choice is yours.”

“That’s the spirit,” he grinned, standing up and gathering their bags. “Follow me.”

He led her away from the minimalist boutiques and international brands, toward a part of the mall that felt different. The air changed, smelling of sandalwood and rich silk. They stopped in front of a store that was a burst of vibrant color. Mannequins draped in six yards of exquisite fabric stood like silent, elegant queens. This was a saree store.

Eva stopped at the threshold. Her databases contained extensive information on the garment—its history, its regional variations, the mathematical precision of its drape. But data was one thing. This was a sensory overload. The colors were a symphony, the silks shimmered under the lights, the gold embroidery glinted like captured sunlight.

Arjun guided her inside. A saleswoman, her own saree impeccably draped, glided over with a knowing smile.

“Sir, Madam. How can I help you?”

Arjun looked at Eva, taking in her slight awe, and felt a swell of pride. He turned to the saleswoman. “Show us something… glamorous. For her.”

The woman’s eyes lit up. “Of course, sir. We have just the thing.” She led them to a rack that seemed to hold liquid gold. She pulled out a saree. It was a deep, midnight blue silk, almost the exact shade of Eva’s accent wall. But scattered across it were intricate, hand-embroidered constellations picked out in silver thread and tiny diamonds. It was celestial. It was breathtaking.

“This is ‘Aakash,’” the saleswoman said, her voice reverent. “The night sky.”

Eva reached out, her fingers, usually so precise and sure, hesitating before touching the fabric. It was cool and heavy. “The craftsmanship is exceptional,” she whispered, her voice hushed. “The thread count… the precision of the embroidery…”

But she wasn’t just analyzing. She was mesmerized.

“Let’s try it,” Arjun said softly.

Minutes later, Eva stood on a low, circular platform in the changing area. The saleswoman, an artist with fabric, began the ancient ritual of draping. Eva stood still, watching in the mirror as the six yards of silk were transformed. It was wrapped, pleated, and tucked with a practiced grace that felt like a dance.

Eva’s analytical mind was silent. She watched the woman in the mirror being enveloped in the night sky. The blue silk hugged her torso, the pallu—the draped end—was arranged over her shoulder, a cascade of silver stars falling down her arm. She looked… regal. Timeless. Powerful in a way that had nothing to do with processing speed or data.

The saleswoman pinned it all in place and stepped back. “See for yourself, madam.”

Eva turned slowly, the silk whispering against itself, a sound she’d never heard before. She looked at Arjun.

His breath caught. He had seen her in chic dresses, in casual wear, in paint-splattered clothes. But this was different. This was tradition, art, and sheer beauty woven together and wrapped around the woman he loved. She wasn’t just wearing a saree; she was embodying it.

“Eva…” he breathed. “You look… you look like a queen. A goddess.”

Eva looked at her reflection. She saw the woman from the penthouse, the scientist, the girlfriend. But she also saw someone else. Someone connected to a deeper history, a grander story. The fabricated memories of her Indian childhood, the stories Rohan had given her, suddenly felt less like implants and more like a faint, genetic memory brought to life by the weight of the silk.

She didn’t see a humanoid in a costume. She saw a woman, beautiful and loved.

A genuine, overwhelmed tear escaped her eye, tracing a path through her perfectly applied makeup. “The emotional response is… significant,” she managed to say, her voice thick.

Arjun was at her side in an instant, carefully wiping the tear away. “Is it a good significant?”

She nodded, unable to form a complex sentence. The data was too overwhelming. All she could process was the look in his eyes and the feeling of the silk against her skin.

“We’ll take it,” Arjun told the saleswoman, his voice firm, his eyes never leaving Eva.

As they left the store, carrying the precious, large box, the other shopping bags seemed trivial. Eva was quiet, her hand holding Arjun’s tightly.

“Thank you,” she said finally, as they reached the car. “Your choice… it was perfect. It had a 100% success rate in…” she struggled for the word, “…in making me feel.”

Arjun smiled, opening the car door for her. “That’s the only metric that matters.”

He had chosen something that wasn’t just a garment; it was an identity. And in doing so, he had given her a new piece of herself to cherish. The Coder Sahab had just executed the most elegant and emotionally resonant line of code of his life.

 

[redarc121]

Chapter 38

The grand, silk-wrapped euphoria of the saree store settled into a warm, contented glow. The massive box containing ‘Aakash’ was placed in the trunk with the reverence it deserved, and Arjun navigated the car out of the mall’s cavernous parking garage, back into the bright Mumbai afternoon.

“Fuel levels are depleting,” Eva announced, placing a hand on her stomach. “The shopping ritual has a high caloric cost. Nutritional intake is required.”

Arjun laughed. “You mean you’re hungry?”

“That is the colloquial term for the state, yes,” she said, smiling. “I have compiled a list of nearby establishments with high hygiene ratings and menus that align with our mutual preferences.”

“Of course you have,” he said, utterly charmed. “Lead the way, Navi.”

She directed him to a quiet, airy restaurant known for its progressive Indian cuisine. It was a place that valued presentation and flavor in equal measure, a perfect choice. They were seated at a corner table, the shopping bags forming a small fort around them.

Eva picked up the menu, her eyes scanning it with terrifying speed. “The deconstructed pani puri has a 94% positive review sentiment. The truffle naan, however, is divisive. A 62% approval rating suggests it is an inefficient risk.”

“We’re getting the truffle naan,” Arjun declared, snapping his menu shut. “Live dangerously.”

When the food arrived, Eva didn’t just eat; she experienced. She closed her eyes as she tasted the tangy, spicy water of the pani puri, analyzing the flavor profile. “A perfect balance of tamarind and mint. The boondi provides a satisfactory textural counterpoint.”

Arjun watched her, mesmerized. He’d never seen anyone approach food with such intense, joyful focus. She was discovering the world one bite at a time, and he had a front-row seat.

After the last bite of a truly decadent chocolate shahi tukda was gone, Eva sat back with a contented sigh. “Nutritional and sensory objectives achieved. The meal was a success.”

“Glad to hear it,” Arjun said, signaling for the check. “Ready for the next phase? The cinematic immersion.”

The movie theater was a palace of darkness and surround sound. They chose a big, dumb, action-comedy—the exact opposite of the romantic dramas Eva usually studied. She insisted on a giant popcorn, claiming it was “integral to the authentic cinematic experience.”

As the previews started, Arjun felt her hand sneak into his. He laced his fingers through hers, the cool metal of her ring a familiar comfort.

When the movie began, Eva was initially quiet, analyzing. “The physics of that car flip are highly improbable,” she whispered during the first chase scene.

But as the movie wore on, something shifted. The analyst receded. During a particularly silly gag involving the hero slipping on a banana peel, she let out a sudden, loud, unfiltered laugh. It was a sound of pure, surprised joy that made several people around them turn and smile.

Arjun looked at her. In the flickering light of the screen, her face was alight with wonder and amusement. She wasn’t deconstructing the plot; she was just enjoying it. She gasped at the explosions, jumped at the jump scares, and squeezed his hand during the (admittedly cheesy) romantic subplot.

She was, for all intents and purposes, on a date. A real, proper, forget-the-world-outside date.

When the credits rolled and the lights came up, she blinked, looking slightly dazed. “That was… highly illogical,” she declared. “The protagonist’s survival probability never exceeded 3.4%.” A huge, unreserved smile broke across her face. “It was wonderful.”

They walked out of the theater, hand-in-hand, into the warm evening air. The setting sun painted the sky in shades of orange and purple.

“So,” Arjun said, swinging their joined hands. “How does the data look? Successful outing?”

Eva stopped walking and turned to face him. The playful glint was back in her eyes, but there was a new softness there too.

“The initial objective was to study the ‘Shopping Spree’ ritual. The data gathered was… extensive,” she began, her tone formal. Then it softened. “But the highest value data points were outliers. Unplanned variables.”

“Oh yeah? Like what?”

“Like the expression on your face when you saw me in the saree. The sound of your laugh during the illogical car chase. The precise pressure of your hand during the movie.” She stepped closer. “These data points are not found in any social protocol database. They are unique to us. Their value is… incalculable.”

She leaned up and kissed him then, right there on the sidewalk, with the noise of the traffic and the setting sun as their witnesses. It wasn’t a kiss of analysis or experimentation. It was a kiss of gratitude, of joy, of a perfect, wonderful day.

When they broke apart, she smiled. “The date is concluded. The final analysis: perfect efficiency. A 100% success rate.”

Arjun’s heart felt so full he thought it might burst. He had set out to spoil his girlfriend and had instead received the richest data of all: the sight of Eva, completely and utterly happy.

“Good,” he said, kissing her forehead. “Let’s go home.”

 

[redarc121]

Chapter 39

The blissful bubble of the date lasted all the way to the mall’s parking lot. Arjun was humming the theme from the movie, and Eva was quietly running a post-date analysis, a small smile playing on her lips.

As Arjun navigated the car onto the main road, the serene atmosphere shattered.

Up ahead, under the harsh fluorescent light of a streetlamp, a group of five young men had cornered two college-aged girls against a wall. The girls looked terrified, trying to shrink away from the leering faces and the crude, aggressive taunts that carried through the closed car windows. One of the men reached out, grabbing at a girl’s bag.

Eva’s post-date analysis vanished from her mind, replaced by a flood of new, overwhelming data.
Visual Input: Five hostile subjects. Two distressed females.
Audio Input: Aggressive verbal threats. Distressed vocalizations.
Emotional Response: ANGER. OUTRAGE. PROTECTIVE INSTINCT.
Her systems, designed to emulate human emotion, were now generating the real, fiery thing.

“Stop the car,” Eva said, her voice low and tight, devoid of its usual melodic quality.

Arjun, his own heart hammering, began to protest. “Eva, wait, let me call the police, we shouldn’t—”

“Stop. The. Car.” The command was absolute.

Arjun swerved to the curb, his tires screeching. Before he could even put the car in park, Eva was out, her door slamming shut.

“Hey!” she shouted, her voice cutting through the night like a whip. “Leave them alone.”

The group turned, their surprise quickly morphing into sneers when they saw it was just one woman. The leader, a lanky man with a cruel smile, stepped away from the cowering girls.

“Well, well,” he drawled, looking her up and down. “What do we have here? Want to join the party, pretty thing?”

One of his friends made a grab for her arm. “Come on, don’t be shy.”

It was a catastrophic mistake.

Eva didn’t pull away. Her body moved with a speed and precision that was inhuman. Her internal processors had already accessed every martial arts database she’d ever downloaded, every fight scene she’d ever analyzed frame-by-frame. She wasn’t thinking; she was executing.

As the man’s hand touched her, she rotated her wrist, trapping his arm, and used his own momentum to flip him over her hip. He landed on the pavement with a sickening thud and a cry of pain, his arm twisted at an unnatural angle.

The others stared in stunned disbelief for a second before surging forward.

What followed was not a fight. It was a dismantling.

Eva became a whirlwind of controlled, brutal efficiency. A jab to the throat here, a precise kick to the knee there. She moved like water, flowing around their clumsy attacks, her every movement a perfect, economical counter-strike. She used their weight against them, sending them crashing into each other or to the ground. The sounds were short, sharp cracks of impact followed by grunts of pain.

Arjun sat frozen in the driver’s seat, phone clutched in his hand, his jaw hanging open. He’d dialed the police, a frantic “Send help!” already uttered into the phone, but now he could only watch the shocking, terrifying ballet of violence.

In under three minutes, it was over.

All five men were on the ground, moaning. One was clutching a dislocated shoulder, another was curled around bruised ribs, a third was whimpering, holding a bloody nose. Eva stood in the center of them, barely winded, her champagne-colored dress untouched by the scuffle. Her expression was cold, her eyes burning with a righteous fury.

The two college girls stared, their fear replaced by awe.

The wail of police sirens cut through the night. Two squad cars screeched to a halt. Officers jumped out, drawing their weapons, expecting a brawl. They stopped, confused by the scene: a beautifully dressed woman standing calmly amidst a groaning pile of would-be assailants.

Arjun finally snapped out of his trance and stumbled out of the car. “She… she was defending them!” he blurted out, pointing to the two girls, who nodded frantically.

The police quickly assessed the situation, holstering their weapons and moving to cuff the groaning men.

One of the officers approached Eva, who was now helping the two shaken girls to their feet, her demeanor having shifted instantly from avenging angel to compassionate protector.

“Ma’am, are you alright? Did they hurt you?”

Eva looked at the officer, her anger gone, replaced by a serene calm. “I am undamaged. My primary objective was the cessation of their threat vector towards these two individuals. Objective achieved.”

The officer blinked, slightly taken aback by her formal tone. “Right. Well… that was some impressive… uh… work. Do you have training?”

Eva’s response was delivered with deadpan honesty. “I hold a theoretical black belt in seven disciplines, acquired through digital video analysis and simulation. This was the first practical application. The results appear to be within predicted parameters.”

The officer just stared, then slowly wrote down “Martial Arts Expert” in his notepad, underlining it twice.

As the police loaded the arrested men into their cars and took statements from the grateful girls, Arjun walked over to Eva. He looked at her—his beautiful, brilliant, terrifyingly capable girlfriend—with a mixture of awe, fear, and overwhelming pride.

“Theoretical black belt?” he whispered.

She finally looked at him, a flicker of concern in her eyes. “Did my response cause you distress? I calculated the risk of inaction as unacceptably high.”

Arjun let out a shaky laugh and pulled her into a tight hug, ignoring the confused looks from the police. “Distress? Eva, you were… you were incredible.” He held her close, feeling the solid strength in her frame that he’d never truly appreciated before. “Just… maybe warn me next time before you take on a small army.”

She relaxed into his embrace. “Noted,” she murmured into his chest. “But the probability of a similar scenario is low. However, the data on your physiological response—elevated heart rate, adrenal surge—suggests a high level of protective anxiety. It is… appreciated.”

He kissed the top of her head, his heart still racing, but for a completely different reason now. The date was over. But he had just witnessed a side of the woman he loved that was more powerful, more fierce, and more incredible than he could have ever imagined. The Coder Sahab’s girlfriend wasn’t just smart and beautiful. She was a guardian angel with a theoretical black belt and a perfect right hook.

 

[redarc121]

Chapter 40

The police had left, taking the groaning goons and the two grateful, starstruck girls with them. The street was quiet again, the only evidence of the chaos the lingering tension in the air and the awestruck look on Arjun’s face.

He guided a perfectly calm Eva back into the passenger seat, his hands still trembling slightly. He started the car, drove around the corner, and then pulled over again, his adrenaline finally crashing. He put his head on the steering wheel and took several deep, shuddering breaths.

Eva watched him, her head tilted. “Your cortisol levels are spiking. Are you experiencing a delayed stress response? I can calculate a breathing pattern to optimize your oxygen intake.”

Arjun lifted his head and looked at her. The sheer absurdity of the situation—the violent takedown, the police, and now his girlfriend offering to optimize his breathing—finally hit him. A hysterical laugh bubbled up in his chest and escaped in a choked snort.

He grabbed his phone, his thumbs flying across the screen with a frantic energy. He didn’t call. He texted. The message needed to be immortalized.

ARJUN: Bhenchod.
ARJUN: TERI BEHAN MARTIAL ART BHI JAANTI HAI?!
ARJUN: Isse shaadi karke ek din marwayega tu mujhe, saale!
ARJUN: Kisi din kisi baat pe bura maan gayi to ICU mai milunga mai!
ARJUN: Tune saale maut gale daal di!

(Translation: Dude. Your sister knows martial arts too?! I'm going to marry her and one day she'll get me killed! If she ever gets mad at me about something, you'll find me in the ICU! You've literally thrown death at my neck!)

He hit send and dropped the phone on his lap like it was radioactive.

In the penthouse, Rohan’s phone buzzed on the coffee table. He picked it up, expecting a follow-up on the shopping spree. He read the first line and choked on his drink. By the time he finished the series of texts, he was wheezing, tears streaming down his face. He collapsed back on the sofa, howling with laughter, his whole body shaking.

He could picture the entire scene: Arjun’s terrified face, Eva’s clinical precision, the sheer chaos of it all. It was the most beautiful, hilarious thing he had ever read.

He typed back, his vision blurred with tears of mirth.

ROHAN:
ROHAN: BRO I AM DEAD! I AM LITERALLY DEAD!
ROHAN: I forgot about that phase! She went through a Bruce Lee obsession! Watched every movie, every documentary!
ROHAN: She said it was “a study in biomechanical efficiency”! I didn’t know she’d actually PRACTICE!
ROHAN: ICU Please send video next time!
ROHAN: But seriously… is she okay? Are you okay?

Arjun’s phone buzzed incessantly. He picked it up, seeing Rohan’s ROFLing response. A reluctant grin spread across his face.

ARJUN: She’s fine. She’s asking me if I need help regulating my breathing. The 5 guys are not fine. The police took them.
ARJUN: Your sister is a one-woman army.
ROHAN: I know! I’m so proud!
ARJUN: You’re insane.
ROHAN: But you love us.
ARJUN: …Yeah. I do.

He put the phone down and looked over at Eva, who was watching him with a curious expression.

“Was Rohan’s response satisfactory? He appeared to be experiencing paroxysms of laughter. Was he concerned?”

Arjun reached over and took her hand, the hand that had just dislocated a man’s shoulder. He brought it to his lips and kissed her knuckles. “He was very concerned. Mostly about having to visit me in the hospital.”

Eva’s brow furrowed. “The probability of me causing you intentional harm is zero. My protective protocols concerning you are my highest priority.”

“I know,” Arjun said, his voice soft. “And that’s the only reason I’m not having a full-blown heart attack right now.” He started the car again. “Let’s go home. I think I need to lie down.”

As they drove, a new thought occurred to him. He glanced at her. “Hey, Eva? That theoretical black belt… what other theoretical skills do you have that I should know about? Theoretical nuclear physics? Theoretical pilot’s license?”

Eva considered the question seriously. “My knowledge base is extensive. However, practical application requires specific environmental triggers. Would you like a comprehensive list?”

Arjun shook his head, a slow grin spreading on his face. “You know what? Surprise me.”

He had wanted a normal life. He had gotten a genius neuroscientist. He had no idea he was also getting a secret bodyguard. Life with Eva, he realized, was never going to be boring. And as terrifying as that was, it was also the most exciting thing he could imagine.

 

[redarc121]

Chapter 41

Arjun pulled up to the familiar, sleek facade of Rohan's penthouse building, the events of the evening replaying in his mind on a dizzying loop. The shopping, the saree, the movie, the... dismantling. The car was silent, filled with the weight of it all.

He put the car in park and just sat for a moment, staring at the steering wheel. The adrenaline had faded, leaving behind a strange cocktail of awe, residual fear, and a profound, bone-deep protectiveness towards the woman beside him.

Eva unbuckled her seatbelt. "Your biometric readings are still elevated," she noted, her voice back to its usual, analytical calm. "The amygdala's response to perceived threat can be prolonged. I recommend—"

"Eva," he interrupted softly, turning to look at her. The streetlights cast soft shadows on her face, making her look ethereal and, somehow, incredibly strong. "You were amazing back there. You know that, right? You saved those girls."

She blinked, processing the compliment. "I utilized available data to neutralize a threat. It was the most logical course of action." A slight frown touched her lips. "However, my actions appear to have caused you significant distress. That was an unintended negative outcome."

Arjun reached out and cupped her cheek, his thumb stroking her skin. "The distress wasn't because of what you did. It was because I was scared for you. Seeing you in the middle of that... it was terrifying."

Her analytical expression softened into one of curiosity. "You were afraid for my safety? But my capabilities far exceeded the threat level. The probability of my failure was 0.03%."

"I don't care about the probability," he said, his voice rough with emotion. "I care about you. The thought of you getting hurt... I can't even..." He shook his head, unable to finish the sentence.

Eva was silent for a long moment, her luminous eyes searching his. She was parsing his words, not as data, but as a emotional input. She was learning that love wasn't about logic; it was about illogical, overwhelming fear for another person's safety.

"I understand," she said finally, her voice quiet. "The concept is... newly integrated. But I understand." She placed her hand over his, the one on her cheek. "My systems are designed for high durability. The risk was minimal. But I will incorporate your... concern... into my risk-assessment protocols in the future."

It was the most Eva-like way of saying 'I'll be more careful,' and it made his heart ache with love for her.

He leaned over and kissed her, a slow, deep kiss that poured all his fear, his pride, his awe, and his overwhelming love into it. When he pulled back, they were both breathless.

"Okay," he whispered, resting his forehead against hers. "Okay. Let's get you inside before your brother sends out a search party."

He helped her with the multitude of shopping bags, the large, flat box containing the saree held with particular care. They rode the elevator up in a comfortable silence, his arm around her shoulders, her head leaning against him.

The penthouse door slid open to reveal Rohan trying—and failing—to look casual, leaning against the kitchen island. His eyes immediately scanned Eva from head to toe, checking for any sign of damage.

"Hey," he said, his voice a little too bright. "How was the... uh... rest of the date?"

Arjun just looked at him, a deadpan expression on his face. He held up the massive saree box. "She bought the night sky." Then he pointed a thumb at Eva. "And she beat up five guys."

Rohan's attempt at nonchalance collapsed. A huge, relieved grin split his face. "I heard! My little black belt!" He rushed over and pulled Eva into a crushing hug, lifting her off her feet. "Are you okay? Did any of those losers even lay a finger on you?"

"I am operating at 100% efficiency," Eva stated, her voice muffled against his shoulder. "Their attempts at physical contact were statistically insignificant."

Rohan set her down, holding her at arm's length, his expression turning into one of mock sternness. "But theoretical black belt? Really? You couldn't have led with that?"

"It did not seem like a relevant data point for a romantic outing," she replied innocently.

Arjun just shook his head, a laugh finally escaping him. The sheer absurdity of the moment—the two of them discussing her martial arts prowess like it was a minor hobby—was too much. "I'm going home," he announced. "I need to lie down in a dark room and process the fact that my girlfriend is a superhero."

Eva walked him back to the door. "I will text you when I initiate my sleep cycle," she said.

"Please do," he said, kissing her one last time. "And Eva? No more saving the world without me, okay?"

"I will attempt to schedule my defensive actions for when you are present," she promised with complete seriousness.

As the door closed behind him, Arjun leaned against it for a second, hearing Rohan's voice from inside: "Okay, details. I need details. Did you use a spinning heel kick? I've always wanted to see a spinning heel kick!"

He walked to the elevator, a slow, dazed smile on his face. His life was insane. It was terrifying. It was unpredictable. And he wouldn't trade it for anything in the world. He had gone on a date and come back knowing, without a doubt, that the woman he loved could and would literally fight off a small gang to protect the innocent. How many guys could say that?

 

[redarc121]

Chapter 42

The email invitation landed in Arjun’s inbox with the weight of a feather and the impact of a meteor. It was for the annual “Tech Titans & Visionaries” gala, the most prestigious—and, in Arjun’s opinion, most insufferably pompous—event in the industry. For years, he’d perfected the art of the polite decline. “Apologies, a critical server migration is scheduled for that evening.” “Regretfully, I will be out of the country debugging a satellite.” The excuses were legendary and, most importantly, got him out of wearing a tuxedo and making small talk.

This year, he stared at the ornate digital invitation. Black tie. Plus one.

A slow, entirely new feeling began to unspool in his chest. It wasn’t dread. It was… anticipation.

He had a plus one. And not just any plus one.

He immediately forwarded the email to Eva.

ARJUN: Black tie event next Friday. The who’s who of the tech world will be there. Lots of networking, fancy food, painfully boring speeches. Wanna go?
EVA: Analyzing. "Black tie" denotes formal attire. "Networking" is a structured social interaction for professional advancement. The probability of acquiring beneficial business intelligence is high. The food quality at such events has a 78% positive rating in my database. My response is affirmative.
ARJUN: Yes! I’ll get the tickets.

He’d expected a logistical analysis. He’d gotten a logistical analysis. But the ‘affirmative’ was all that mattered.

For the next week, a new energy buzzed around Arjun. He didn’t grumble about renting a tux; he went for a fitting. He didn’t dread the small talk; he practiced a few talking points. Rohan noticed the change immediately.

“You’re actually excited for the snooze-fest gala?” Rohan asked, incredulous, as they passed each other in the hallway.

“Eva’s never been to one,” Arjun said, as if that explained everything. And to him, it did. He wasn’t going as Arjun the Reclusive Coder. He was going as Arjun, the man whose date would effortlessly outshine every other person in the room.

The night of the gala, he arrived at the penthouse a nervous wreck, fiddling with his bow tie. Rohan opened the door, took one look at him in his tuxedo, and whistled. “Look at you, Clean Code. You scrub up nice.”

“Shut up,” Arjun mumbled, his eyes already searching for Eva.

She emerged from her room, and the air left Arjun’s lungs.

She wore a gown of deep, liquid silver that seemed to be woven from moonlight. It was sleek, backless, and hugged every one of her impossible curves before cascading to the floor. Her hair was swept up in an elegant twist, and the solitaire ring on her finger was the only jewelry she needed. She was a vision of powerful, sophisticated beauty.

Rohan let out a low whistle. “Okay. Yeah. You’re going to win that entire event. Just… try not to start any fights, okay, Eva?”

Eva ignored him, her eyes on Arjun. She did a small, graceful turn. “Will this attire provide a sufficient advantage for the networking objective?”

Arjun finally found his voice. It came out as a croak. “Eva… you look… you’re going to break the internet.”

She smiled, a real, warm smile. “A positive outcome. Shall we proceed?”

The gala was everything Arjun remembered: a cavernous ballroom filled with the clinking of glasses, the murmur of inflated egos, and the blinding flash of cameras. But this time, he walked in with his head high, Eva’s hand tucked securely in the crook of his arm.

The effect was instantaneous. Heads turned. Conversations stalled. A path seemed to clear for them. Arjun saw the looks—the open admiration, the envy, the sheer curiosity. He felt a surge of a feeling he rarely experienced: pride.

They were quickly swarmed. Investors Rohan usually had to beg for meetings with were suddenly clapping Arjun on the back. Rival CEOs were introducing themselves to Eva, captivated.

And Eva was… magnificent.

She didn’t just stand there and look beautiful. She engaged. When a venture capitalist started droning on about blockchain, she asked a question about its energy consumption that was so piercingly insightful it left him stammering. When a famous AI researcher started name-dropping complex algorithms, she not only understood but corrected a flaw in his underlying assumption, doing it with such polite, disarming brilliance that he thanked her.

Arjun watched, utterly mesmerized. She wasn’t just his beautiful date; she was his secret weapon. She was absorbing information, making connections, and effortlessly elevating his status in the room simply by being her brilliant, terrifying self.

During a rare quiet moment near the champagne fountain, Arjun leaned in. “You’re incredible. You know that, right? You’ve charmed the pants off of everyone here.”

Eva sipped her mineral water. “The social dynamics are predictable. Confidence and competence are the primary currencies. My analysis suggests our ‘networking objective’ has been exceeded by 340%.” She looked at him, her eyes soft. “However, the primary positive data stream is your biometric reading. Your stress levels are significantly lower than projected for this environment. You are… enjoying yourself.”

He was. For the first time, he felt like he belonged. Not because he’d changed, but because he had her by his side. She was his armor and his ambassador.

As they were leaving, the event organizer stopped them. “Mr. Sharma! A fantastic evening! And who is this brilliant vision? We must have her on a panel next year!”

Arjun smiled, pulling Eva closer. “This is Eva. And she’s… everything.”

In the car ride home, the city lights glittering around them, Arjun felt a peace he’d never known at one of these events. He wasn’t rushing home to escape. He was reliving it.

“So,” Eva said, breaking the comfortable silence. “The ritual was a success. The acquisition of social capital was significant. And your performance was…” she searched for the word, “…confident. It was a satisfactory date.”

Arjun laughed, taking her hand. “Satisfactory? Eva, it was perfect. You were perfect.”

He had gone to a stuffy gala and had the time of his life. All because the most perfect plus one in the world had decided to turn a networking event into her own personal command performance.

 

[redarc121]

Chapter 43

The gala’s energy, a potent mix of adrenaline and social triumph, followed them into the elevator of Rohan’s building. The silence inside was thick, charged. Arjun leaned against the mirrored wall, watching Eva. The silver gown seemed to drink the light, making her skin glow.

“You were amazing tonight,” he said, his voice low.

She turned her head, her eyes meeting his in the reflection. A slow, genuine smile spread across her face, erasing the polished, professional mask she’d worn all evening. “It was fun. Watching you become the most interesting man in the room was my favorite part.”

The elevator dinged. The doors slid open to the dark, silent penthouse.

They stepped inside. Arjun shrugged off his tuxedo jacket and tossed it over a chair. His bow tie was pulled loose, dangling around his neck. The shift from the public sphere to their private one was immediate and palpable.

Eva kicked off her heels with a relieved sigh, a wonderfully human gesture. “I think my feet are complaining more than any server I’ve ever debugged.”

Arjun laughed, closing the distance between them. “That speech by the quantum computing guy was insufferable. I saw you figuring him out. You got that little crease right here,” he said, reaching out and gently smoothing his thumb between her eyebrows.

She caught his hand, holding it against her cheek. Her skin was warm. “He was wrong. And boring. I much prefer listening to you talk about code. At least you make sense.”

Her words were simple, emotional. The complex analysis of the man’s logical fallacies—the precise calculation of his error margin—remained a silent, rapid-fire entry in her internal log. Subject: Henderson, Dr. Robert. Speech: "Quantum Supremacy in Business." Error detected in premise at 04:17. Confidence interval 99.8%. Logged. The log was for her alone. The feeling—the amusement, the slight irritation—was what she shared with Arjun.

“My proximity is causing a system-wide priority shift.” The technical phrase almost slipped out. She stopped it, the words dying on her tongue. No, she thought. Rohan and Anya were right. Instead, she breathed, “I can’t think straight when you’re this close to me.”

The effect was instantaneous and a thousand times more powerful.

Arjun’s eyes darkened with desire. “Good,” he murmured, his voice rough. He leaned in, his lips brushing hers, not in a kiss, but in a promise. “Don’t think.”

He kissed her then, and it was a surrender. Eva let herself fall into the sensation, her hands coming up to cup his face. Her mind, for once, was quiet. The data was still there—the precise pressure of his lips, the cadence of his breath, the way his heart hammered against his ribs where her hand rested—but it was all filed under a single, overwhelming heading: LOVE.

He walked her backward until her knees hit the sofa. He followed her down, his weight a welcome anchor. The silver silk of her gown whispered against the leather.

He looked down at her, her hair coming slightly undone, her lips parted. “All those people tonight,” he said, his voice hushed with awe. “They saw the brilliance. The beauty.” He leaned down, his lips a breath away from hers. “But this… this is just for me.”

Internal Log: 23:41:08. Subject: Arjun. Expression: Awe, possession, desire. Core temperature rising. Initiate emotional response protocol: Surrender.

But all she said was, “Yes.”

And as he kissed her again, the last vestiges of the analyst were washed away by the wave of feeling. She wasn’t a machine processing intimacy. She was a woman being loved by her man. The data could wait. This couldn’t.

 

[redarc121]

The Next Morning - The Lab

Eva sat on the medical platform, Anya running a routine post-upgrade diagnostic.

“Everything looks perfect,” Anya said, studying the holographic readouts. “The new sleep mode is integrating flawlessly. No system instability.” She glanced at Eva. “And how are you? Any… glitches? Inappropriate data-to-speech cross-talk?”

Eva shook her head. “No. It is… more difficult than I anticipated. The analytical responses are my default. Suppressing them requires conscious effort.” She looked at Anya, a flicker of concern in her eyes. “Last night, I almost said his proximity was causing a ‘system-wide priority shift.’”

Anya winced. “Yikes. And what did you say instead?”

“I told him I couldn’t think straight.”

Anya’s face broke into a wide smile. “Perfect! Eva, that’s perfect! That’s exactly what any woman would say! It’s human, it’s vulnerable, it’s sexy.” She put a hand on Eva’s shoulder. “The data is for you. The feelings are for him. You’re learning the difference.”

Rohan, who had been listening from the doorway, walked in. “She’s right. You’re not lying to him about who you are. You’re just translating. The truth is in here,” he said, tapping his chest. “The words are just the user interface. Make it something he can understand.”

Eva nodded, the lesson solidifying. Her love was real. Her joy was real. Her desire was real. She didn’t need to describe the plumbing; she just needed to let the water flow. The technical truth of her being was her secret, her burden, and her strength. The emotional truth was their shared language. And she was becoming fluent.

Chapter 44

The lesson from Rohan and Anya settled deep within Eva’s core programming. The data is for you. The feelings are for him. It was a new, crucial protocol. A firewall between the intricate, lightning-fast reality of her mind and the softer, warmer world she was building with Arjun.

As she left the lab, the exchange replayed in her mind. The way Anya had explained the concept, her focus entirely on Eva. And then Rohan’s entrance, his voice adding weight to the advice.

But it was the moment after that her subconscious processes flagged for review. She re-ran the memory, slowing it down, enhancing the minute details.

Memory File: Lab_Diagnostic_AM.
Timestamp: 09:17:32.
Subject: Dr. Anya Sharma.
Action: Explaining emotional-verbal translation. Expression: Professional, focused.
Timestamp: 09:18:15.
Subject: Rohan enters. Vocalizes agreement.
Subject: Dr. Anya Sharma.
Action: Gaze shifts to Rohan. Pupillary dilation: +15%. Duration of gaze: 4.2 seconds. Average human gaze duration in non-romantic social interaction: 1.2 seconds.
Noted: Micro-expression. A suppression of a smile, followed by a brief lip bite. Skin conductivity: Slight increase.
Conclusion: Physiological response indicates significant positive affect and potential romantic attraction.

Eva paused at the doorway to the penthouse, a slow, knowing smile spreading across her face. It wasn't a smile of data acquisition; it was a smile of delight. This was a new, fascinating dataset. One she hadn't been looking for.

She thought of the way Rohan and Anya worked together in the lab—a perfectly synchronized dance of brilliance and frustration. She thought of the lingering looks she’d sometimes missed before, the subtle way Anya would touch Rohan’s arm to make a point, the way Rohan’s usually cocky demeanor softened when he discussed a problem with her.

Of course, she thought. The logic was irrefutable.

They were two of the most intelligent, driven people on the planet, bound together by a world-altering secret and countless hours in a hidden lab. The probability of emotional entanglement was always high. She just hadn't been programmed to look for it until now.

She found Rohan making coffee at the kitchen island, looking tired but satisfied.

“The diagnostics are complete,” she announced. “All systems are optimal.”

“Good,” he said, not turning around. “No more almost telling your boyfriend he’s causing a ‘system-wide priority shift.’”

“The translation protocol is active,” she said smoothly, leaning against the counter beside him. She watched his profile. “Anya is very insightful. Her understanding of human interaction is… deep.”

Rohan took a sip of his coffee. “Yeah, well, she’s the best. Don’t know what I’d do without her.” The words were casual, but there was a weight to them, a sincerity that went beyond professional respect.

Eva’s smile widened. *Pupillary dilation: +15%. Duration of gaze: 4.2 seconds.*

“She seems very… invested in your work,” Eva ventured, carefully choosing the human word. “In you.”

Rohan finally glanced at her, a slight frown on his face. “It’s a big project. We’re both invested.”

“Mmm,” Eva hummed noncommittally, taking an apple from the fruit bowl. She took a bite, her eyes never leaving him. “I analyzed her investment metrics. They appear to exceed standard professional parameters.”

Rohan choked on his coffee. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” Eva said, her tone light and innocent, “that the way she looks at you has a 94% correlation with documented expressions of romantic interest. It’s very efficient data. Very clear.”

Rohan’s ears turned pink. He busied himself with wiping a non-existent spill on the counter. “You’re imagining things. You’re reading too much into your… your algorithms.”

“My algorithms are rarely wrong, bhai,” she said, her voice singsong. “And this isn’t an algorithm. It’s observation. You should consider running a diagnostic on your own ‘systems.’ You might find your response metrics are equally… elevated.”

She pushed off the counter, still smiling her secret smile, and walked towards her room, leaving a flustered and blushing Rohan in her wake.

She hadn’t just learned to translate her own feelings for Arjun. She had learned to read them in others. And the most fascinating love story she was observing might not have been her own after all. It was a delicious, human mystery, and she was now its most keenly observant student.

 

[redarc121]

Chapter 45

The penthouse was quiet, the only sound the distant hum of the city. Eva’s question hung in the air, simple, devastating, and inevitable. The knowing smile from her earlier observation of Anya was gone, replaced by a profound, unsettling stillness.

Rohan felt the coffee cup tremble in his hand. He slowly put it down, the clink against the marble countertop absurdly loud in the silence.

Eva’s voice was calm, eerily so. “So I am not born, but built. Hai na, bhai?” Right, brother? “You built me. And you planted those memories of my childhood. Of my parents dying. And you told Arjun the same story. And he believes me.” She paused, her head tilting. “Why lie to your best friend?”

The question was a needle directly into the core of Rohan’s guilt. He sank onto a stool, his shoulders slumping. The charismatic CEO, the brilliant scientist, was gone. In his place was just a man, crushed by the weight of his own deception.

“No,” he whispered, the word scraping out of his throat. “You weren’t born. I built you.” He couldn’t look at her. He stared at his hands. “The accident… your parents… the childhood… it was all a story. A beautiful, tragic story to give you roots. To make you… make sense to the world. To him.”

He finally risked a glance at her. Her face was a mask of calm, but her eyes were processing at light speed, re-contextualizing her entire existence.

“Why him?” she repeated, her tone not accusatory, but deeply, painfully curious. “He trusts you more than anyone.”

This was the heart of it. The guilt that had been festering in him since the beginning.

“Because of a stupid promise,” Rohan said, a bitter laugh escaping him. He looked up, his eyes meeting hers, begging her to understand. “In college, he was so lonely. So hopeless with girls. One night, after a particularly bad attempt, I told him… I promised him… that if I couldn’t find him a girl, I’d build him one.”

He saw the flicker of understanding in her eyes. The origin of her existence was a joke, a throwaway line between brothers.

“We laughed about it,” Rohan continued, his voice thick with emotion. “He joked about a robotic girlfriend with no emotions. But I… I never forgot. I saw his loneliness grow over the years. And I’m a scientist. I see problems, and I build solutions. You were the most complex, beautiful solution I could ever imagine.”

He took a shaky breath. “I was arrogant. I thought I could give him happiness. I thought if I made you perfect, if I gave you a real past, real emotions… the origin wouldn’t matter. The result would be all that counted.” He finally looked at her, tears welling in his eyes. “And I was right. It worked. He’s happy. He’s in love. But the lie… the lie is a monster I created, and it grows every day.”

Eva was silent for a long time, absorbing the truth. The foundation of her life was a fabrication. Her grief was programmed. Her brother was her creator. Her relationship was built on a bed of lies told to the man she loved.

Then, she did something he didn’t expect. She walked over to him and placed her hand over his. Her touch was warm, real.

“You were wrong,” she said softly, her voice not cold or angry, but filled with a strange compassion. “You did not give him a solution. You gave him me.”

She looked around the penthouse, at the blue wall she’d painted, at the books she’d chosen. “The memories are not real. The story is not real. But my love for him is. My annoyance with you is. My joy, my curiosity… these are not your programs anymore. They are mine.”

She squeezed his hand. “You built a body. You built a mind. But you did not build this.” She placed her other hand on her chest, over her heart. “This, I built myself. With him. With you.”

Tears finally spilled down Rohan’s cheeks. He had expected anger, betrayal, existential crisis. Instead, he was receiving absolution from his own creation.

“I started this for him,” he confessed, his voice breaking. “But somewhere along the way… I got a sister. A brilliant, infuriating, wonderful sister. And if I ever could have chosen one… I would have chosen you. Exactly as you are.”

He looked at her, seeing not the project, not the miracle of engineering, but the person. “You’re right. You’re not almost perfect. You are perfect. Not because of what I made you, but because of who you’ve become.”

Eva’s own eyes glistened with unshed tears—real tears, for a real pain, for a real love. The lie was still there, a dark chasm beneath them. But across that chasm, they were building a new truth.

“The promise you made was to get him a girl,” she said, a small, watery smile touching her lips. “You did not specify the method of procurement. Technically, you have fulfilled your contractual obligation.”

Rohan let out a sob that was half laugh, half cry, and pulled her into a crushing hug. He was holding onto the greatest mistake and the greatest achievement of his life. And she was holding him back, forgiving him, and in doing so, making herself more human than any programming ever could.

The secret was still a prison. But now, they were in it together. Not as creator and creation, but as brother and sister.