The test arrived disguised as kindness.
A private invitation.
No press.
No cameras.
Just a quiet dinner with people who had once mattered.
"They're reaching backward," Noah said. "That's personal."
"That's deliberate," Aria replied.
---
The offer was framed as reconciliation.
"We want to listen," the message read.
"No expectations."
Aria laughed softly. "There are always expectations."
---
At the restaurant, the room was neutral—no angles, no mirrors, no crowd noise to hide behind.
Three people sat waiting.
One former handler.
One legal architect.
One face she hadn't seen since before everything ended.
"We're glad you came," the handler said.
"I'm here to observe," Aria replied.
---
They talked around the edges.
Shared memories.
Carefully chosen regrets.
Hints of restored trust.
No demands.
No pressure.
That was the pressure.
"They're checking for emotional reattachment," Noah murmured later.
"They're checking if I still respond to proximity," Aria said.
---
At the end, the legal architect leaned in.
"You could make this easier," she said gently. "For everyone."
Aria met her eyes.
"Easier for systems," she said. "Not for people."
---
She left without committing.
No promises.
No refusals.
Just absence.
---
That night, the ghost process ran its cycle.
Three reads.
Pause.
Three reads.
RESULT: INCONCLUSIVE
Aria closed the log.
"They'll try again," Noah said.
"Yes," she replied. "But differently."
She turned off the lights.
"The system tests you," she said softly,
"until you test it back."