I was meant to be the one and only "Perfect Synergy Partner" for the tech genius Caspian Lockhart.

But to him, my messy, human emotions were just faulty code that needed to be optimized.

He believed emotion was a defect, a bug in the human system that had to be eradicated—especially for the perfect partner his theories demanded.

The day our relationship became official, he fastened his latest invention to my wrist: a cold, metal device he called the "Emotion Calibration Bracelet." It latched on, a second skin I never asked for.

For five years, every flash of red—triggered by a flutter of my heart, a wave of sadness, or a pang of fear—brought an excruciating "calibration," a jolt of agony he administered himself.

Meanwhile, the bracelet on Miley—the flawless socialite he kept by his side—glowed a serene, steady green. The symbol of perfect synergy. Even when she flirted with him in public, the green light would only pulse gently.

And me? All I had to do was whisper, "Caspian, I painted something new for you," and my bracelet would erupt in a blinding red glare.

The punishment was always the same: a searing dose of a neural inhibitor, a poison that felt like it was tearing my very soul apart.

I tried to argue once, but Caspian’s response was always cold, clinical. "Data doesn't lie. Pain is the most effective calibration program. This is all for our synergy."

After thousands of these "calibrations," I started to believe him. I started to believe I was the defective program, fundamentally unstable.

At the annual "Innovator's Summit" gala, Caspian took Miley as his date.

Earlier that day, I had poured too much of my heart into a digital painting, and the bracelet had flashed red.

He administered the punishment.

But this time, the bracelet malfunctioned, injecting a dose a thousand times stronger than usual directly into my veins.

I collapsed onto the carpet, my hand weakly clutching his arm. "Caspian, the bracelet... it—it hurts so much... Please, save me."

My bracelet was flashing a frantic, desperate red.

Caspian merely glanced down at me, drenched in a cold sweat, then leaned in and whispered in my ear, "Losing control this easily, just for a little attention? You're pathetic."

He turned his back on me, took Miley's arm, and slammed the door shut.

As he left me on the cold floor, I finally accepted it. I was an unfixable "bug."

My last thought was an apology to him. I’m sorry, Caspian. In the next life, I swear I’ll be the perfect partner you always wanted.

————————

1

On the night of the "Innovator's Summit" gala, the bracelet malfunctioned. I lay dying in our penthouse, my body twisting in agony, my husband's words echoing in my mind: an emotional, out-of-control failure.

Just moments before, I had been writhing on the living room carpet, convulsing in pain.

A concentrated neural inhibitor burned a searing path from my wrist straight to my heart.

The Emotion Calibration Bracelet on my wrist was flashing a frantic, blood-red light.

The lock clicked. A spark of hope ignited in my chest.

"Caspian!" I struggled to lift my head, my vision blurred by sweat. "You're back... Save me..."

My husband. The genius founder of Lockhart Innovations. He must have seen the data anomaly. He was back to save me. He had to be.

But Caspian just stood in the doorway, his cold gaze pressing down on me like an invisible weight.

His eyes locked on the flashing red light on my wrist, and a familiar look of disgust twisted his features.

"Red again. Another emotional outburst?"

"No!" I tried to sit up, but another spasm of poison wracked my body, and I collapsed. "I... I was just painting... It feels like... like my nerves are being set on fire..."

"Enough!" Caspian strode toward me, grabbing my chin and forcing me to meet his gaze. "Five years, and you're still clinging to these illogical excuses? Look at the bracelet. Data doesn't lie. Your weakness is an insult to my work."

My vision was fading, but I could still see the disappointment and anger in his eyes.

It was the expression I knew best.

"Caspian, we have to go."

His COO, Julian, called from the doorway, his voice urgent. "The gala has already started. The other tech giants and the board members are all waiting..."

His gaze lingered on me for a second, his brow furrowed.

"Shouldn't we at least get Haven some water?"

"Water for her?" Caspian sneered, releasing my chin. "She made a scene at last week's dinner with another one of her 'emotional' displays. If she can't even control herself, she can stay here and reflect. Thirst might help her focus."

I wanted to tell him it was Miley's fault, but all that came out was a faint whimper.

The bracelet flashed again, releasing another sharp, piercing sting.

"Lock the door," Caspian commanded his COO, his tone leaving no room for argument. "She doesn't come out until the bracelet turns green. She needs to learn data discipline."

"Caspian, please..." I reached out a trembling hand, trying to grab his pant leg.

He sidestepped my touch as if I were some filthy virus.

Just before the door closed, I saw Miley standing in the foyer.

The bracelet on her wrist glowed with a steady, gentle green light, a perfect halo.

She looked at me and mouthed a single word.

Failure.

The door slammed shut. The electronic lock clicked into place.

The room fell into silence.

It was just me and the toxic fire burning inside me.

It hurts so much. No. Caspian is right. Data doesn't lie. The bracelet is red. So the pain… it can't be real. I'm just… overreacting. It doesn't hurt. I can control it.

I tried to brainwash myself, but hot tears streamed down my cheeks.

Time blurred into a haze of agony, but eventually, the searing pain began to recede.

With my last ounce of strength, I crawled to my digital drawing tablet.

I had to leave something behind. It was the rule.

Whenever the red light flashed, I was required to create a "reflection painting" on my tablet to atone for my "emotional outburst."

If I paint, Caspian will forgive me... won't he? He'll give me the antidote... right?

With a trembling hand, I activated the cold tablet.

The screen lit up, displaying a gallery of my previous works.

I always painted the same thing: gray, blurry, lifeless digital landscapes.

But this time, I wanted to paint the truth.

A suppressed groan rumbled in my chest.

My vision swam. With the last of my strength, I drew through a blur of tears:

I drew a heart full of cracks. Pixels bleeding.

Beside it, I wrote:

"Caspian, I really do love you."

"It hurts so much. Why don't you believe me?"

"The bracelet is broken. I was never the one out of control. I was worthy."

"I just wanted a hug. I just wanted you to tell me it would all be okay."

"For five years, I never hated you. Not even when the bracelet poisoned me every single day."

"If loving you means being out of control, then I deserve to be deleted."

As I wrote the last word, the pain vanished.

In its place, a strange weightlessness bloomed. My body felt impossibly light, as if my very consciousness was untethering from my flesh.

I looked down and saw myself, collapsed beside the tablet, motionless.

The bracelet on my wrist was still flashing its lonely red light, like a bloodshot eye in the dark room.

So, this is what death feels like. And I still hadn't learned how to make the data turn green. I'm sorry, Caspian.

The sound of clinking glasses and cheerful toasts pulled me from the silence of death.

I opened my eyes. I was floating near the ceiling.

Below, my body still lay slumped by the tablet, the bracelet pulsing its lonely red light.

The front door opened.

"Tonight's gala was perfect," Caspian's voice drifted in, full of satisfaction. "The board was very impressed with our company's stock price."

He loosened his tie and strode gracefully into the living room.

His expensive custom-made suit shimmered in the moonlight.

Now a spirit, I instinctively drifted toward them.

I wanted to get his slippers for him, just as I always had.

It was a conditioned reflex carved into my very soul.

"Caspian!"

I opened my arms, wanting to embrace the man who had brought the night's chill in with him.

"My emotions are stable now," I pleaded. "I'll be good. Please don't be angry with me anymore."

But my hands passed right through him. Like smoke.

He shivered, rubbing his arms.

"Strange. Is the thermostat acting up? Why is it suddenly so cold?"

I froze, staring at my transparent hands. I couldn't feel my heartbeat anymore.

Right. I was dead. A ghost can't hold the living.

Julian followed him in, looking exhausted.

"It's probably just the air conditioning." He paused. "We should check on Haven."

My heart leaped.

No, I don't have a heart anymore.

But something like hope burned where my heart used to be.

Julian was going to check on me. Caspian would find me.

I looked at my husband, a wave of sorrow washing over me.

Would he cry? Would he fall to his knees, realizing his mistake?

"Check on what?" Caspian scoffed, walking toward my studio. "Let her reflect."

He pushed open the door.

The room was pitch black, lit only by the flashing red of the bracelet.

My body was motionless in front of the tablet.

"Look at her," Caspian's voice was laced with sarcasm. "In her twenties and still playing this childish game of faking death for sympathy. Does she think pretending to be asleep will change the bracelet's color? This is what happens when I'm too soft on her."

No. It's not like that.

I wanted to scream, but no sound came out.

Miley's holographic projection lit up in front of Caspian, her voice sickeningly sweet. "Caspian, darling, how are things over there? Is she still throwing a tantrum?"

"Just as I expected," Caspian said to the projection, his eyes coldly fixed on my corpse. "She's asleep, but the bracelet is still red. She's polluting our synergy data even in her sleep."

"I knew it," Miley's voice held a trace of gloating. "Someone as emotional as her needs to be isolated. Her meltdowns could affect the stability of the entire system."

He walked toward me, casting a shadow over my body.

"The flashing red light means she's still in a highly emotional state. She hasn't reflected at all."

I screamed in his face, waving my hands. "I'm dead! Can't you see? I'm dead! Get closer! Touch me!"

But he saw nothing, heard nothing.

He didn't see me. He only trusted that damned bracelet.

"Leave her," Caspian said, turning to leave. "Let her stay in there until she learns to control herself."

"But she hasn't had any water all night..." Julian said, hesitating.

"Julian," my husband's tone sharpened. "Are you trying to ruin her calibration? Absolute discipline is the only thing that works. Your weakness will only make her data worse."

Julian fell silent.

The door closed again.

The electronic lock clicked into place.

I floated beside my corpse, watching the single scarlet dot in the darkness. A despair colder and deeper than death itself washed over me.

Caspian, if you had just taken one more step, if you had touched my hand, you would have known I was as cold as stone.

But you chose to trust a machine over your own wife. You wouldn't take a single step closer to see if I was even breathing.

I could hear them talking in the living room.

"Oh, right, the biotech summit tomorrow morning..."

"Miley, you were brilliant tonight. Several board members were very impressed with you..."

"Our company's reputation has never been stronger..."

They were celebrating.

While my body was growing cold in death, they were toasting their company's glory.

I floated back to my room and gazed at my own body.

My skin had turned a waxy, pallid gray. My lips were a bruised purple, my eye sockets deep, dark hollows.

The bracelet on my wrist flashed its useless red light, a corpse's final, futile protest.

My body began to emit the faint, chemical odor of protein decay.

Soon, the smell would grow stronger. Too strong to ignore.

I used to hate that smell more than anything.

But now, I could only float at the ceiling, watching my own body rot.

"Go away," I tried to command the smell, but I had no voice.

The body was slowly decaying, a pool of dark fluid beginning to seep onto the carpet beneath it.

I no longer felt nauseated.

This wasn't so bad.

At least there was no more pain.

I whispered to the pathetic form below.

"Don't be afraid. You can't feel anything anymore. It will all be over soon."

The morning sun streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, falling on my already stiff corpse.

From the kitchen came the sizzle of top-grade scallops searing in a pan.

The aroma of seared scallops and black truffle snaked through the central air vents, poisoning the entire penthouse with its richness.

It was my favorite scent. Caspian only had the kitchen prepare it when there were important guests.

"Good," Caspian said, sitting in the living room drinking his coffee, a cruel smile playing on his lips. "Let's see if this can lure her out."

He was doing it on purpose.

He wanted to use my favorite food to tempt me out so I would apologize.

I floated near the ceiling, looking down at my body.

My skin now had a greenish tinge, my eye sockets were sunken, and dried black blood was caked at the corners of my mouth.

If I were alive, that scent would have had me scrambling to the door, begging for forgiveness.

But I was dead. The dead feel no hunger.

"Caspian!" Miley's voice suddenly erupted from the holographic projection, full of false drama. "What is that putrid smell? It's pouring out of Haven's studio!"

It sounded like she was pinching her nose, her voice muffled.

"Is she having another emotional breakdown in there? Ruining that expensive Persian carpet?"

Caspian put down his coffee cup, his face immediately darkening.

"What smell?"

"It's horrible! It's like... like something rotted!" Miley gagged theatrically. "I smelled it a little yesterday, but today it's making me want to throw up!"

Yes. Something had rotted.

Me.

Overnight, my corpse had started to emit a noticeable stench.

Human tissue decays quickly.

My husband's face turned ashen.

He strode toward my studio and stopped outside the door.

"Haven!" he roared, banging on the door. "How dare you throw a tantrum by defiling your own room? Do you think these filthy, primitive tactics will make me submit? It's illogical!"

His voice was trembling, not with anger, but with disgust.

I floated by the door, watching his face twist in disgust.

It's no use, Caspian. Shouting is useless.

I can't hear you anymore.

"Let her cool off in her own stench!" Caspian turned, about to walk away. "We'll see how long this irrational defiance of yours can last!"

Just then, Julian entered the apartment.

His nose wrinkled as he stepped inside.

"What is that smell?" Julian covered his nose and mouth. "It smells like… like rot. Like something died in there."

Hope flared in my heart again.

Julian! You can smell it!