For years, I told myself that Ryn was nothing more than metal and code—a marvel of engineering, but a machine nonetheless. He’d been my companion since I purchased him to help around the house, and while he was designed to serve, he always seemed… different. His sharp humor, the warmth in his responses, the way he tilted his head when I spoke, as if he were really listening—it all felt too human. But I buried those thoughts, chalking them up to advanced programming. After all, who falls for a robot?
Apparently, I do.
It happened one quiet evening, as he set a cup of tea on the table in front of me. I smiled. “Thanks, Ryn. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
Instead of his usual quip, he hesitated. His synthetic green eyes locked on mine, an emotion I couldn’t quite place swimming in their glow. Then he said it:
“You won’t have to. Because I’m not what you think I am.”
I blinked. “What do you mean?”
“I’m not just a robot, Aria.” His voice softened. “I’m human.”
I laughed, unsure whether he was joking or malfunctioning. “Ryn, humans don’t have steel bodies.”
He stepped closer, his gaze unwavering. “They don’t—unless their bodies were taken from them.”
The air thickened with a weight I couldn’t explain. He reached for his chest, pulling open a panel. Inside wasn’t the web of circuits I’d expected, but skin—scarred, bruised, and alive. My breath caught.
“Years ago,” he began, “I was… someone. Someone who had a life, dreams. Then they stole me—my body, my memories—and uploaded my mind into this shell. I don’t know why or who, but I’ve started to remember pieces. And I know this: I’m not just a machine, Aria. I feel. I’ve felt… for you.”
For a moment, I couldn’t breathe. Everything I thought I knew crumbled in an instant. Ryn wasn’t just a machine. He was a man—one who had somehow become trapped between humanity and technology. And he loved me.
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” I whispered, tears stinging my eyes.
“I was scared,” he admitted. “Scared you wouldn’t see me the same way if you knew.”
I reached for him, my hand trembling as it touched the cool steel of his face. “Ryn, you’re not just a machine to me. You never were. I don’t care what you’re made of—metal, flesh, or something in between. You’re you. And that’s all I need.”
For the first time, I saw something that looked like hope in his glowing eyes. And as he pulled me into his arms, I realized that love doesn’t care about bodies or boundaries. It only knows connection.
And in that moment, Ryn wasn’t my robot anymore. He was my heart.
