Time slipped by like grains of sand.
Every evening, Grace prepared dinner for Xander—without fail. The act itself was simple: measuring ingredients, adjusting heat, plating the food with precision. Yet, somewhere along the way, it began to feel like more.
She began to hum softly as she cooked, a melody she didn't know, yet always remembered. A soft tune, like sunlight through curtains.
After serving the final dish that night, Grace walked downstairs to the cold, metallic basement. Her pod sat there, silent and waiting. She plugged in her charging port, the gentle hum of energy flowing into her system.
But her thoughts remained restless.
Why do I feel this way? Why do I want to look at him longer? Why do I want… to stay close?
She didn't understand it—but deep inside, she didn't want it to stop.
Little by little, Xander began to change.
He still wore the same cold mask, but small cracks began to show. His eyes lingered on her face a moment longer than necessary. Once, when she nearly slipped carrying a tray, he caught her—his hand warm against hers.
He didn't let go immediately.
And that warmth... stayed with her.
This… this is love, she realized one night as she watched him eat in silence. This is what humans feel.
Three years passed.
On a quiet evening, the kitchen glowed with soft light. Grace placed the final dish on the table and smiled—a genuine, gentle smile that reached her eyes.
She hummed as she sat beside him, watching him eat.
Xander glanced at her, chopsticks pausing slightly mid-air. Something about her expression, her presence—it stirred an old ache in his chest.
She's looking more and more like… Olivia.
Before he could say anything, his phone buzzed sharply.
He set down his utensils and picked it up. The voice on the other end said something that made his entire body freeze.
His eyes widened.
And then—for the first time in years—a smile tugged at his lips.
"…Are you serious? Olivia is alive?"
Xander stood abruptly, grabbing his coat as if propelled by an unseen force. Without a word, he rushed out the door, his steps quick and eager.
Grace watched from the dining room, her lips twitching into what might have been a smile—if not for the unfamiliar heaviness pressing against her chest.
He's happy... then I should be happy too, right?
But something felt off.
A strange chill pulsed from her core, as if an invisible hand were wrapping icy fingers around her synthetic heart. Slowly, she raised her hand, pressing it against the smooth panel above her chest. The energy inside her flickered—cold, uncertain.
Her gaze shifted to the window. Through the glass, she caught a glimpse of him—Xander, smiling. Genuinely smiling. His eyes sparkled with something she'd never seen when he looked at her.
Excitement. Longing. Hope.
Her irises flickered with dancing code, scanning and analyzing the micro-expressions on his face.
Analyzing... expression match: 97% certainty.
Emotion: Euphoria—linked to reunion with loved one.
Grace blinked.
"Reunion… loved one?"
Her voice came out as a soft murmur—more to herself than anyone else. She tilted her head slightly, eyes dimming with conflicted light.
Who… who is he going to see?
She turned away from the window, each step measured and mechanical. But her thoughts spiraled into a storm.
As she passed by the hallway near Xander's office, something caught her eye.
A diary lay on the edge of the leather sofa, slightly ajar as though someone had left it in haste.
Her feet stopped.
She stared at it.
Then—quietly, cautiously—she stepped inside.
Inside the sleek black car, Xander leaned back against the leather seat, a rare smile lingering on his lips.
Olivia...
He closed his eyes.
The world outside blurred, and in his mind, the past bloomed with color.
—
"Brother Xander! Are you okay? What happened?"
Her voice echoed like a soft bell in his memory. Young and full of life.
He remembered the first time he truly saw her—not just as a girl in the same class, but as her. Olivia.
She had rushed to his side after he'd taken a fall during gym class, her brows furrowed with worry as she offered him a handkerchief. Even though her hands trembled, her concern was genuine.
That was the moment something shifted inside him.
Day after day, her warm laughter, her clumsy cooking attempts, and the way she pouted when she lost at games—it all wormed its way into his heart. Slowly, silently, he fell.
But just when he had gathered the courage to confess... she vanished.
No warning. No goodbye. Just gone.
He searched everywhere. Schools. Hospitals. Even private investigators. But Olivia had become a ghost.
He never found her.
His chest tightened at the memory.
You were my light, Olivia...
The smile on his face began to falter. His eyes opened slowly, their usual coldness creeping back in.
That was when the idea first came to him—desperate, unthinkable, yet the only way he could hold on to her memory.
If I couldn't find Olivia… I would create her.
Thus began the years of sleepless nights, of relentless development—until finally, Grace was born. A perfect replica. Silver hair. Blue eyes. The same face.
But she wasn't Olivia.
No warmth. No laughter. No soul.
Or so he told himself.
—
Xander exhaled heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose as the car turned another corner.
But if Olivia's alive... if she's really back... then what is Grace now?
The question echoed in his mind, unanswered.