Enchanted pen

ARIS

Okay, Aris. Yesterday’s conversation was merely professional, related to the model, I said, looking at my reflection in the mirror. But inside my mind, one sentence kept replaying: “Or it could mean us.”

Us is out of the question. How can “us” happen if “we” are so different from each other?

“Ugh!! It is just not possible.”

MICHELA

“Okay, Aris, you’re freaking me out with this uncontrolled behavior. What is going on?” she said through the video call.

ARIS

“Uncontrolled? Girl, I can be anything, but I’m not losing control. Aris Laurent doesn’t lose control.”

MICHELA

“Okay, sure, I got it. But on that note, could you tell me what happened?”

ARIS

I spilled everything — how I stayed back on purpose, how we argued about the module, how there was eye contact, him coming closer, and how he said, “Or it could mean us.”

Her reaction was cinematic, as if something huge had happened.

MICHELA

“OMG!!! That is so good. This is huge. I mean, who would’ve thought that a stone would like someone?”

ARIS

“Michela. This means nothing. That conversation was ‘just professional.’”

MICHELA

“Hey! Are you convincing me or yourself?”

ARIS

“You know what, I can’t deal with this. I gotta go. Bye.”

Before she could say anything, I cut the call and looked at the time. It was past midnight.

The screen light cut harsh lines across my face as the dashboard loaded. I needed to analyze engagement patterns. Growth curves. Semantic clustering.

Not him.

Platform Insight:
Language shift detected.

My fingers paused above the trackpad.

Increased use of “we” over “I.”

Huh? That isn’t possible. I aggressively scrolled through my archived log entries.

Earlier logs:
“I theorize—”
“My framework—”
“I observed—”

Recent ones:
“We explored—”
“We concluded—”
“We noticed—”

My jaw tightened.

I reran the analysis manually.

Same result.

64%.

My pulse quickened — just a little, but enough.

It made me realize how upset I was with the results rather than with Kabir.

Kabir is an external factor.

This, on the other hand, is an internal conflict.

I leaned back in my chair.

Identity contamination detected.

No.

Integration.

The word weighed more.

I hovered over the editing button. But I didn’t click it.

KABIR

I think I said too much. I don’t know how or when, but I did. My brain wasn’t thinking it was a bad idea. It was just processing how the liking phase had taken over the project phase.

I remembered every single detail about her — which hairstyle she prefers depending on her mood, how she likes everything calculated and structured, even though she doesn’t realize how much it affects her. Her cute grinch face whenever she’s proven wrong, and how she hovers over every challenge just to prove me wrong.

Which made me realize I had to open the analytics dashboard. But there was also a voice note sent by Aris earlier, and while my work was obviously important, somehow I ended up listening to it.

It’s not a big deal. Just her pointing out a small detail in a panel summary. But then, halfway through, she says—

“Maybe we should reframe that section.”

We.

I smiled.

Not because it meant something.

But because she didn’t catch herself saying it.

It was unlike me, but I relived the moment by playing it again.

Not to break it down.

Just to experience it.

This time, I wasn’t calculating percentages of probability. I was calculating risk in a different way.

Is she a project?

I used to think maybe.

A challenge. A puzzle. An intellectual sport.

But puzzles don’t look at you the way she did after I said “us.”

That wasn’t analysis.

That was fear.

And fear means it matters.

I put my phone down.

For the first time, I wondered — if she’s measuring the merging probability…

What happens when it hits 100%?

I exhaled. I realized I didn’t want to win the argument anymore.

I wanted to know what she looks like when she stops arguing.