The office smelled like burnt coffee and solder.
Kael had been staring at the same lines of code for three hours now, and they still didn't make sense. Or maybe they did, and his brain had just stopped working somewhere around 4 AM. He wasn't sure anymore.
The robotic arm sat on the workbench in front of him, motionless. Mocking him, probably.
"You look like death."
Kael didn't look up. "Good morning to you too, Renn."
The sound of footsteps, then the rustle of a paper bag landing on the desk beside his keyboard. The smell of fresh bread and eggs cut through the chemical haze of the workshop.
"Breakfast," Renn said, dropping into the chair across from him. "And actual coffee. Not whatever radioactive sludge you've been drinking."
Kael finally looked up. Renn was dressed too well for a startup office — crisp button-up, styled hair, like he'd just walked out of a business magazine. Which, knowing Renn's family, he probably could.
"You didn't have to—"
"Yes, I did. You look like you fought a robot and lost."
Kael snorted despite himself. "I did. It won."
Renn unwrapped his own sandwich, leaning back in his chair. "So what's the diagnosis? Can we salvage it?"
Kael rubbed his eyes. "There's a feedback loop in the joint control algorithm. The servo motors are overcorrecting every micro-adjustment, which creates oscillation in the arm's movement. I can stabilize it, but I need to rewrite the PID controller from scratch."
"In English, please."
"It's broken. I can fix it. But it'll take time."
Renn was quiet for a moment, chewing thoughtfully. Then: "How much time?"
"A week. Maybe less if I—"
"We have the investor meeting in five days."
Kael's stomach sank. He'd forgotten. Of course he'd forgotten.
Renn must have seen it on his face, because he sighed. "Kael. Buddy. I know you're in the zone when you work, but we need this demo ready. These people aren't investing in potential — they're investing in proof."
"I know."
"Do you? Because I can't keep smooth-talking our way through meetings if we don't have something to show them."
Kael looked at the robotic arm. Then at the screen full of broken code. Then at Renn, who was watching him with that mix of concern and exasperation that had become familiar over the past year.
"I'll get it done," Kael said quietly.
Renn studied him for a long moment. Then he nodded. "I know you will. You always do."
He pushed the sandwich closer to Kael. "But eat first. You're useless when you're running on fumes."
Kael picked up the sandwich. Still warm. He took a bite.
"Thanks."
"That's what I'm here for." Renn grinned. "Well, that and looking good in investor meetings."
Despite everything, Kael smiled.
They ate in comfortable silence for a while. This was their rhythm — had been since they'd started the company a year ago. Renn handled the business side, the networking, the presentations. Kael handled the tech, the engineering, the actual product. They balanced each other.
"So," Renn said after a while, "how's Mira?"
Kael paused mid-bite. "Fine, I think. Why?"
"Just asking. You mentioned you were meeting her later, right?"
"Yeah. The usual cafe."
Renn nodded, took another bite of his sandwich. "You two have been doing that forever, haven't you? The coffee thing?"
"Since college. Maybe even before."
"That's..." Renn seemed to search for the word. "Nice. Consistent."
"Yeah."
Renn looked like he wanted to say something else, but didn't. Instead, he stood up, brushed crumbs off his shirt.
"Alright. I've got calls to make. You focus on that arm. And Kael?"
"Yeah?"
"Try to get some actual sleep tonight. You're no good to anyone if you collapse."
"I'll try."
Renn gave him a look that said he didn't believe him, but left anyway.
Kael turned back to his screen. The code stared back at him, still broken, still waiting.
He took another bite of the sandwich and got back to work.
[Scene Break]
By the time the sun started setting, Kael's eyes felt like sandpaper and his back ached from hunching over the workbench. But the arm moved. Smoothly. Precisely.
He ran the diagnostic three more times just to be sure.
Green across the board.
"Finally," he muttered, leaning back in his chair.
His phone buzzed on the desk. He picked it up, blinking at the screen until the words came into focus.
Mira: Coffee later? Usual spot?
Kael felt something in his chest loosen. He hadn't realized how tense he'd been until that moment.
Kael: Yeah. Give me 30 to clean up?
Mira: Take your time. I'll be there
He stared at the message for a second longer than necessary, then pocketed his phone and started shutting down the equipment.
Renn had left hours ago for some family thing. The office was quiet except for the hum of the ventilation system and the faint buzz of the overhead lights.
Kael glanced at the robotic arm one more time.
"Don't break while I'm gone," he told it.
It didn't respond. Which, all things considered, was probably a good sign.
[Scene Break]
The cafe was small, tucked between a bookstore and a florist on a side street that most people walked past without noticing. Kael had been coming here since college. So had Mira.
It was their place, in a way that neither of them had ever said out loud.
Kael arrived first. He always did. Mira had a tendency to run exactly seven minutes late to everything, a fact that used to drive him crazy until he'd just started accounting for it.
He ordered her usual — iced vanilla latte, extra shot, light ice — and his own black coffee, then claimed their corner table by the window.
The door chimed.
Mira walked in, and Kael's brain did that stupid thing it always did where it forgot how to function for half a second.
She wasn't dressed up or anything. Just jeans and a loose sweater, her hair pulled back in a ponytail. But there was something about the way she moved, the way the evening light caught her face as she scanned the cafe—
She saw him. Smiled.
Kael's heart did something complicated.
"Hey," she said, sliding into the seat across from him. "You ordered already?"
"Obviously."
She picked up the latte, took a sip, and sighed. "You're the best."
"I know."
She kicked him lightly under the table. He kicked back. This was normal. This was easy.
"Long day?" Mira asked, setting down her drink.
"You could say that. Spent the last twelve hours fighting with a robot."
"Who won?"
"Me. Barely."
She laughed, and Kael felt the tension from the day finally start to drain away.
They fell into their usual rhythm — trading stories about work, complaining about annoying coworkers, debating whether the cafe's new pastry was worth the price. (It wasn't, but they ordered it anyway.)
Mira told him about a bug in her company's software that had somehow made it to production, causing half the user interface to display in Comic Sans for an entire afternoon.
"Please tell me you have screenshots," Kael said.
"I have screenshots." She pulled out her phone, grinning. "Want to see the CEO's face when he noticed?"
"Absolutely."
She showed him. It was glorious.
For a while, everything felt normal. Easy. Like it always had been.
Mira was in the middle of a story about her coworker's disastrous attempt at bringing homemade lunch when she paused, staring at her phone.
"Hold on," she said. "My mom's calling."
"Go ahead."
Mira answered, switching to a slightly different tone — the one she used with family. "Hi, Mom... Yeah, I'm good... Mm-hmm..."
Kael couldn't hear the other side of the conversation, but he watched Mira's expression shift. Still pleasant, still smiling, but something tightened around her eyes.
"I know, Mom... I haven't forgotten... Yeah, we can talk about it later... Okay... Love you too."
She hung up, set the phone down, and took a long sip of her latte.
"Everything okay?" Kael asked.
"Yeah, fine. Just..." She waved a hand vaguely. "Mom stuff. You know how it is."
"What kind of mom stuff?"
"Oh, just checking in. Making sure I'm eating properly, not working too late. The usual." She smiled, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "She wants me to come home for dinner this weekend. Some relatives are visiting or something."
"That sounds nice."
"Yeah." Mira looked out the window for a moment. "Yeah, it should be."
There was something in her voice — something Kael couldn't quite place. But before he could ask, she turned back to him, smile brightening.
"Anyway. How's Renn? Still charming investors with that smile of his?"
Kael let it go. "More or less. We have a big meeting coming up. Lot of pressure."
"You'll do great. You always do."
"I wish I had your confidence."
"You should. You're brilliant, Kael. You just don't see it."
He felt his face warm slightly. "It's different when it's your own work."
"I know. But still." She stole a piece of his pastry even though she'd said she didn't want one. "Trust yourself more."
They stayed at the cafe for another hour, the conversation drifting easily between topics. Work. Friends. Random observations about the people around them. The kind of comfortable nothing-talk that only happened when you'd known someone long enough.
But as they were getting ready to leave, Mira said something that stuck in Kael's mind like a splinter.
"Kael," she said, pausing at the door. "Do you think we'll still be like this in ten years?"
He blinked. "What do you mean?"
"Just..." She looked at him, and there was something in her expression he couldn't quite read. "Do you think things will change? Between us?"
"Why would they?"
Mira held his gaze for a long moment. Her mouth opened slightly, like she was about to say something.
Then she closed it. Smiled instead.
"No reason," she said softly. "See you later, Kael."
"Yeah. See you."
And she walked away.
Kael stood there on the sidewalk, watching her disappear down the street, and couldn't shake the feeling that he'd just missed something important.
[Scene Break]
Kael's apartment was quiet when he got home. Too quiet.
He dropped his keys on the counter, kicked off his shoes, and stood in the middle of his living room for a moment, unsure what to do with himself.
Mira's question kept replaying in his head.
Do you think we'll still be like this in ten years?
Why had she asked that? What did she mean by "like this"? And why had she looked at him that way, like she was waiting for him to say something specific?
He'd said the right thing, hadn't he? Why wouldn't we be?
But even as he'd said it, something had felt... off.
Kael pulled out his phone, opened his messages with Mira.
Mira: Thanks for tonight. Needed that ❤️
She'd sent it while he was walking home. He typed a reply.
Kael: Anytime. You know that
He sent it, then stared at the screen.
Should he ask her what she meant? Should he bring it up?
His thumb hovered over the keyboard.
Hey, about what you said earlier—
He deleted it.
Is everything okay? You seemed—
Deleted that too.
Finally, he just locked his phone and set it down.
It was probably nothing. She was probably just in a weird mood. People asked hypothetical questions all the time.
It didn't mean anything.
Right?
Kael lay down on his bed, still fully clothed, and stared at the ceiling.
The question circled in his mind, over and over.
Do you think we'll still be like this in ten years?
And underneath it, a quieter thought:
What if we're not?
His chest felt tight.
He picked up his phone again. It was 11:47 PM.
Too late to call anyone normal.
But Arya wasn't normal.
He hesitated for only a second before dialing.
She picked up on the third ring.
"You awake?" Kael asked.
There was a pause. Then Arya's voice, tired but alert: "Now I am. What's wrong?"
"Nothing. Sorry. I can call back—"
"Kael." Her tone shifted, gentler. "What's wrong?"
He exhaled slowly. "Mira said something weird today."
"Okay. What'd she say?"
"She asked if I thought we'd still be like this in ten years."
Silence on the other end. He could hear rustling — Arya was probably sitting up, fully awake now.
"And what did you say?" she asked carefully.
"I said yeah, why wouldn't we be."
"Mm."
"What does 'mm' mean?"
"Did you reply to her text?"
Kael frowned. "Yeah. I said 'anytime, you know that.'"
"But you didn't believe it."
Kael went silent.
He wanted to argue. Wanted to say of course I believed it. But the words stuck in his throat.
Because he hadn't. Not really.
"Kael," Arya said quietly. "You've been in love with her for ten years."
"Arya—"
"Either tell her, or let her go. You can't live in this middle space forever."
"I know."
"Do you?"
The question hung in the air.
Kael closed his eyes. His chest ached.
"I don't know what to do," he said finally, voice barely above a whisper.
"Yes, you do. You're just scared to do it."
"What if—"
"What if she says no? What if she doesn't feel the same way? What if it ruins everything?" Arya's voice was soft but firm. "I know, Kael. I know you're scared. But you know what's worse than all of that?"
"What?"
"Spending the rest of your life wondering."
Kael didn't say anything.
"Get some sleep," Arya said gently. "We'll talk more later. Okay?"
"Okay."
"And Kael?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm here. Whatever you decide. Always."
The call ended.
Kael lay there in the dark, phone still in his hand, Arya's words echoing in his head.
You can't live in this middle space forever.
Outside, the city hummed with distant traffic and voices. Inside, everything was quiet.
Kael stared at the ceiling.
And for the first time in years, he let himself really think about it.
What if he told her?
What if he didn't?
Which risk was greater — speaking and losing her, or staying silent and watching her slip away?
He didn't have an answer.
But the question kept him awake long into the night.
[END OF CHAPTER 1]