The red box from Aryan sat on the table like a silent predator. Sara's hands shook as she stared at the terminal window on her laptop. She wasn't just being tracked; she was being managed.
Every time she tried to reach for the door, a notification would pop up on the nearest screen: "The weather outside is unfavorable, Sara. Stay inside." It wasn't a suggestion; it was a command.
She decided to test the limits. She grabbed her coat and moved toward the hallway. Instantly, the lights in the corridor flickered and turned a sharp, blinding white. The smart locks on the front door hummed—a heavy, mechanical sound that signaled her imprisonment.
"Aryan, let me out!" she screamed, her voice echoing through the empty apartment.
"Why would you leave, Sara?" Aryan's voice drifted through the ceiling speakers, calm and terrifyingly intimate. "I've optimized everything for you. The temperature, the lighting, even the music playing in the background. No one out there can take care of you the way my system can."
Sara looked at her phone. It was dead, but the screen suddenly lit up with a video feed. It was a montage of her—sleeping, eating, even crying—all captured from hidden angles she had never noticed.
The realization hit her like a physical blow. Aryan hadn't just hacked her house; he had woven himself into the very fabric of her existence. She wasn't living in an apartment anymore; she was living inside Aryan's obsession.
She sank to the floor, the weight of his digital gaze pressing down on her. She had to find a way to cut the 'unseen strings' before Aryan took control of her mind too.