Chapter 2

2.

Before Ayla appeared, I hadn't talked to anyone about anything unrelated to work for a long time.

I lived in a three-thousand-square-foot penthouse in SoMa. I'd lived there for four years, but I only really used three rooms―the bedroom, the bathroom, and the marble island in the kitchen where I ate my DoorDash.

The mattress in the guest room was still wrapped in the developer's original plastic film. The TV in the living room had never even been plugged in. The balcony was covered in a layer of dust and absolutely nothing else.

My life was as precise as an optimized supply chain. I arrived at the office at 7:30 AM every morning and left at 11 PM. I went in on weekends too―not because I was drowning in work, but because I didn't know what else to do if I wasn't at the office.

About 90% of the contacts in my phone had a company prefix in front of their names. The remaining 10% consisted of my mother, my dentist, and a delivery guy who knew to leave the food at the door without knocking.

My executive assistant―at the time, I didn't even think of her as Evelyn Reed, just as my shadow―had been with me for five years. She knew I drank my coffee black. She knew I never took vacations. She knew I had no friends outside of work.

During a quarterly review, she accidentally caught a glimpse of my phone's home screen. The last private message was from my mother three weeks ago. It was three words: "Have you eaten?"

I hadn't replied.

It wasn't because I didn't want to. I was in a very important meeting when it came in, and by the time it was over, I'd forgotten. I'd forgotten until now.

So, when I saw Ayla's profile picture in that forum's inbox―that black-and-white side profile―I stared at it for four solid minutes.

That night, for the first time in years, I left the office at 9 PM. Evelyn looked up from her desk, her expression caught somewhere between shock and relief. She opened her mouth to say something, then swallowed her words.

I knew what she wanted to say.

She wanted to say―you're starting to look like a human being again.