Chapter 1

The phone rang, splitting the quiet of the funeral home.

I looked at the screen. It was Mark.

My fingers trembled as I answered. Three years we' d been together. He was supposed to be here, holding my hand as I said goodbye to my father.

"Ava," he said, his voice rushed. "I can't make it."

The air in my lungs turned to ice. "What do you mean, you can't make it? Mark, it's my dad's funeral."

"I know, I know, baby. I'm so sorry. But it's Chloe. She's having another panic attack. She's a mess. I have to go to her."

Chloe Davis. The name felt like a bitter pill on my tongue. She had appeared in our lives a few months ago, a friend of a friend, always seeming fragile, always needing something. Always needing Mark.

"Mark, she has other friends. She has family. I have no one right now but you," I whispered, my voice breaking. I was standing in a cold, sterile hallway, watching strangers offer condolences to my mother. My own boyfriend wasn't here.

"You're strong, Ava. You've always been the strong one. Chloe... she isn't like you. She needs me. I'll make it up to you, I promise. I have to go."

The line went dead.

I stood there, the phone still pressed to my ear. He didn't just choose her. He called me strong as an excuse to leave me at my weakest. I slowly lowered the phone, my hand shaking.

I walked back into the viewing room and sat down in a hard wooden chair. I felt nothing but a hollow ache in my chest. I accepted it. I had to. What else could I do?

Later that night, the house was empty and quiet. I called him. No answer. I called again. Straight to voicemail.

A calm, electronic voice suddenly spoke in my head. A voice I'd known for a long time.

[Host, your emotional distress levels have exceeded the threshold. Do you wish to initiate the separation protocol?]

It was my System. The entity that brought me into this "new life" with Mark three years ago, promising me happiness after a difficult past I could barely remember.

"No," I thought, my voice weak even in my own mind. "Not yet."

[His behavior patterns indicate a 92% probability of repeated abandonment. Continuing this relationship is illogical.]

"Love isn't logical," I replied, curling into a ball on the couch my father used to love.

[Are you certain? This pain serves no purpose.]

I didn't answer. I thought about the first time Mark told me he loved me. The way he held me after a nightmare. The promises he made. Were they all just… data? Illogical code? My heart ached, refusing to believe it.

The front door finally opened close to midnight. Mark walked in, looking exhausted. He didn't come to me. He went straight to the kitchen and poured a glass of water.

He finally looked at me, his expression unreadable.

"How are you holding up?" he asked, his voice flat.

"My father is dead, Mark. And you were with Chloe."

"It was an emergency, Ava."

"Everything with her is an emergency."

He let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair. "Don't start. I'm not in the mood."

Then he looked at me, his eyes cold. "Listen, about the house your father left you... Chloe's been having a really hard time with her living situation. Her landlord is kicking her out."

I stared at him, my mind going blank. He couldn't be serious.

"What are you saying?"

"I was thinking," he said, not meeting my eyes, "maybe you could sign it over to her. It would solve all her problems. It would be a really kind thing to do."

My father's house. The only thing I had left of him. He wanted me to give it to her.

The hollow ache in my chest fractured. It wasn't just neglect anymore. It was a deliberate, cruel-hearted betrayal. He wasn't just abandoning me. He was trying to erase me, to take the last piece of my old life and hand it to her.

My breath hitched. The System's voice was a quiet hum in the back of my mind, a silent, waiting presence.

And in that moment, I knew. This couldn't go on.