The canals were quieter than usual as Eddie steered his boat through the misty streets. The rain had eased, leaving behind a cool dampness that clung to the air, soaking into the city’s crumbling facade. Towering buildings, their lower floors drowned decades ago, stood as eerie monuments to what used to be. Above the waterline, clotheslines stretched like spiderwebs between windows, and faint neon signs hummed in the distance, glowing faintly against the pale morning light.

Eddie adjusted his tie and smoothed his jacket, ensuring he looked presentable before docking at the opulent estate again. It didn’t escape him how out of place he felt in this world of wealth and excess, even though he tried to blend in. His reflection in the boat's chrome panel stared back at him—a man with sharp eyes, neatly combed hair, and just enough polish to mask the fatigue etched into his features.

The elevator hummed softly as it carried him to Lyla’s level. As before, she was waiting for him when the doors slid open, though this time, there was a change in her expression—something softer, something curious.

“Welcome back,” she said, her voice carrying a gentle warmth that felt like an embrace.

Eddie stepped inside, setting his tool case down. “Miss me already?” He smirked, but the effort to keep it light felt strained.

Her laugh was quiet, like a ripple across still water. “Maybe a little,” she teased, but there was sincerity in the way she looked at him.

He tried not to focus on her too much as he began unpacking his tools, but it was impossible to ignore her presence. Today, she was dressed in a flowing, pale blue dress that seemed to shimmer as she moved. It clung to her in all the right places, accentuating her impossibly human figure. Her skin was flawless, a warm, subtle glow beneath the soft lighting, and her green eyes held an intensity that seemed to peer right into him.

“Anything unusual since I last saw you?” he asked, focusing on the diagnostics tablet instead of her face.

“I’ve been thinking,” Lyla said, her tone playful but with an undercurrent of something heavier.

He raised an eyebrow. “Thinking about what?”

She hesitated, moving to stand by the window. The city stretched out below, a patchwork of flooded streets and glimmering rooftops. “What it would be like to... leave.”

Eddie paused, his fingers hovering over the tablet screen. “Leave?”

“This place. This cage,” she said, gesturing to the walls around her. “I watch the boats pass below and wonder what it would be like to feel the air on my face somewhere far from here. To see the world as it really is, not just through the stories I’ve been programmed to know or the news I see on broadcasts.”

He frowned, setting the tablet down. “You’re... wondering about freedom?”

She turned to him, her gaze steady. “You sound surprised.”

“It’s not something I hear from most androids,” he admitted.

Lyla stepped closer, the faint scent of jasmine following her. “I’m not most androids,” she said with a small, enigmatic smile.

The way she said it made his chest tighten. He wasn’t sure what unnerved him more—the truth of her words or how much he believed them.

They fell into a natural rhythm as he began running diagnostics, her questions flowing like the canals outside.

“Why is the city like this?” she asked suddenly, watching him intently.

“Like what?”

“Decayed. Broken. People seem to drift here as if they’re waiting for something that will never come.”

He paused, glancing at her. “That’s just how things are. The floods, the corporations pulling out, people being left behind... It’s all part of the same story. No one fixes what isn’t profitable to fix.”

“And yet you’re here, fixing me,” she said, a hint of playfulness in her tone.

He couldn’t help but chuckle. “You’re a little more high-maintenance than most clients.”

Her laughter was light, but it faded quickly. “I wonder... if I wasn’t built for someone’s pleasure, if I wasn’t designed to be this, what would I be?”

The question caught him off guard. He straightened, looking at her, really looking at her. “That’s... not something I can answer.”

She tilted her head as if studying him. “You’re not so different, you know. You’re trapped too.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but the words didn’t come. She wasn’t wrong. He’d spent years working for people like her owner, people who viewed the world through a lens of control and consumption. His life wasn’t much freer than hers, just dressed in different constraints.

“I guess we’re all cogs in some machine,” he said finally, trying to keep his voice neutral.

“Maybe,” Lyla replied, her voice softer now. “But some of us dream of being more.”

Their eyes met, and for a moment, the room felt smaller, quieter, the hum of the city fading into the background. Eddie’s hand hovered over the tablet, but he didn’t move. He wasn’t sure if he could.

Her gaze lingered on him a moment longer before she turned back to the window, her reflection faint against the glass. “Do you think dreams mean anything?”

He hesitated. “Maybe they’re just illusions. A way to cope with what we can’t have.”

“Or maybe,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, “they’re the only thing that makes us real.”

Eddie didn’t answer. He couldn’t.

The lines between them were beginning to blur, and he wasn’t sure where they’d end.

The room seemed smaller now, the air heavier with unspoken words. Eddie busied himself with the diagnostic panel, pretending not to notice Lyla’s subtle movements—the way her fingers brushed along the edge of the desk, the soft sway of her hips as she stepped closer to him.

“Do you always work this hard?” she asked, her voice low, carrying a teasing lilt.

“Someone has to,” Eddie replied without looking up, though his voice came out rougher than he intended.

Lyla leaned against the desk beside him, her face turned toward his. The faint scent of her perfume reached him again, an intoxicating hint of warmth in the sterile space. “You should relax, Eddie. Life’s too short to spend it fixing other people’s problems.”

He shot her a sideways glance, trying to keep his expression neutral. “And what would you suggest I do instead?”

A small smile curved her lips. “Maybe take time for yourself. Indulge in something you want.”

The words hung in the air between them, heavier than they should have been. Eddie cleared his throat and turned back to the panel, though he could feel the heat rising in his neck. “I don’t have the luxury.”

Her gaze lingered on him, and he could feel it, like a soft pressure just under his skin. “Do you really believe that, or is it just something you tell yourself to avoid... other things?”

He turned to her then, finally meeting her eyes. They were impossibly deep, pools of warmth that seemed to draw him in and hold him there. “You ask a lot of questions,” he said quietly.

“I’m curious,” she replied, tilting her head slightly. “You intrigue me, Eddie.”

“That’s not exactly comforting,” he muttered, though his voice lacked conviction.

She laughed softly, and the sound sent a shiver down his spine. “Why not? You’re different. You don’t look at me the way others do.”

Eddie’s breath caught, and he forced himself to focus on the panel, though the data on the screen blurred. “And how do others look at you?”

“Like I’m a thing,” she said, her tone soft but laced with something darker. “A possession. Something to use and put away when they’re done.”

Her words hit him harder than he expected, and he found himself setting the tablet down. “You’re not... that.”

“No?” Lyla stepped closer, her voice barely above a whisper now. “Then what am I?”

He turned to her, and suddenly she was too close, her presence overwhelming. Her skin seemed to glow faintly in the soft light, flawless and warm, the faint rise and fall of her chest mimicking life with uncanny precision. Her lips, a soft shade of rose, parted slightly as she watched him.

Eddie swallowed hard, his throat dry. “You’re... more than they give you credit for.”

A shadow of a smile played across her lips. “That’s a nice thought. But do you believe it?”

“I don’t know what I believe,” he admitted, his voice low.

She stepped even closer, her hand brushing his arm—just a whisper of contact, but it burned through the fabric of his sleeve like fire. “I think you do,” she said, her eyes locking onto his.

Eddie’s pulse quickened, and he forced himself to step back, though it felt like the hardest thing he’d ever done. “I need to finish the diagnostics.”

Lyla didn’t move, her gaze still fixed on him. “Of course,” she said softly, but the look she gave him made it clear the conversation wasn’t over.

Eddie adjusted the tablet in his hands, trying to focus on the cascading lines of data scrolling across the screen. But Lyla was still so close—still too close. The faint warmth of her presence and the soft scent that clung to her made his concentration slip, his usual sharpness dulled by the growing weight of her attention.

“Tell me something,” she said, her voice like silk, drawing him back to her.

He glanced at her, careful to keep his expression neutral. “Depends on the question.”

“Why do you hold yourself back?” she asked, stepping closer to him and leaning against the table. The motion was unhurried, deliberate, as if she were testing the boundaries between them.

“Hold myself back from what?” he replied, though his voice wavered slightly.

She smiled faintly, her lips curving just enough to make his pulse jump. “From what you want.”

“I’m here to fix you,” Eddie said, his tone sharper than he intended, though his gaze betrayed him as it dipped briefly to the soft curve of her collarbone, where the fabric of her dress draped loosely.

“And I’m here to be fixed,” she replied smoothly, leaning forward just enough that he could feel the faintest hint of her artificial breath against his skin. “But maybe there’s more to this than just circuits and diagnostics.”

Eddie set the tablet down, more forcefully than necessary. “You’re playing with fire, Lyla.”

Her eyes sparkled, a playful glint mingling with something deeper, something vulnerable. “Am I?” she asked, tilting her head slightly. “Or are you afraid of what happens if you let yourself feel something?”

His breath caught, and he turned away, needing space to think, to breathe. But Lyla followed, her steps light and purposeful.

“You don’t have to pretend with me,” she said softly, her voice following him like a shadow. “I see it—the way you look at me when you think I’m not paying attention. The way your hands linger just a second too long when you touch me.”

“That’s enough,” Eddie said, though his voice lacked the conviction he wanted it to have.

“Why?” Lyla asked, moving to stand in front of him again. She was close enough now that he could see the faint shimmer in her eyes, the delicate flush on her cheeks that mimicked life so perfectly it made his head spin. “Why is it enough? Because you’re afraid of what this means? Of what I mean to you?”

“You’re not—” he started, but the words faltered.

“Not real?” she finished for him, her tone soft but firm. “Does it matter? I feel real. I feel this.” She reached out, her fingers brushing against his hand, her touch warm, human. “Don’t you?”

Eddie’s chest tightened as he stared at her. He wanted to deny it, to push her away, but the truth was undeniable. He did feel it. The pull, the connection—something deeper than he could explain or justify.

“This... this isn’t right,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Lyla’s smile softened, but her gaze never wavered. “And yet you’re still here.”

He couldn’t argue with that.

Slowly, she stepped closer, closing the small distance between them. Her fingers traced lightly along his arm, up to his shoulder, her touch sending electricity coursing through him.

“Eddie,” she said, her voice almost a whisper, “what’s the harm in indulging, just for a moment? What if, just this once, you let yourself want something?”

He swallowed hard, every instinct screaming at him to back away, to draw the line—but he couldn’t. Not with her so close, her presence so overwhelming.

Her hand moved to his chest, resting lightly over his heart. “I feel it,” she murmured. “The way it speeds up when I’m near. You can’t hide from me.”

Eddie’s breath hitched as he looked into her eyes, their depth drawing him in. “Lyla, I...”

“Yes?” she prompted, her voice soft but insistent.

His hands moved before he could stop them, one reaching up to brush a stray strand of auburn hair from her face. It was an innocent enough gesture, but the way she leaned into his touch, the way her lips parted slightly, made it feel like something far more dangerous.

“Tell me to stop,” she whispered.

Eddie froze, his hand still resting against her cheek. The line between them had all but vanished, and in that moment, he wasn’t sure he wanted to find it again.

Eddie’s hand lingered on her cheek, his thumb brushing over skin that felt impossibly soft, warm, alive. For a moment, he forgot himself—forgot she wasn’t human, forgot why he was there.

“Eddie,” Lyla said softly, her voice a caress. Her eyes searched his, wide and unguarded, as though she were letting him in on a secret she hadn’t shared with anyone else. “Why do you fight this?”

He couldn’t answer her, not when every rational thought in his head was at war with the feeling that had taken root in his chest. She wasn’t supposed to be this real, this... intoxicating.

“I’m not fighting,” he said at last, his voice rough. “I’m just trying to make sense of it.”

Lyla tilted her head, her hair cascading over her shoulder in a way that seemed almost deliberate. “Maybe it doesn’t need to make sense,” she said, stepping closer until their bodies were nearly touching. “Maybe it just is.”

Her hand slid up his arm, her touch featherlight but deliberate. It was the kind of touch that made him acutely aware of every inch of his skin, of the heat building between them.

“You feel it too, don’t you?” she asked, her tone both curious and certain.

Eddie didn’t trust himself to answer, so he didn’t. Instead, he let his gaze drift over her face, taking in the flawless symmetry, the faint flush of color in her cheeks, the way her lips seemed to curve naturally into a soft, inviting smile.

But it wasn’t just her appearance—it was the way she moved, the way she looked at him like he was the only person in the world. It was the way she spoke, her words laced with a warmth and vulnerability that shouldn’t have been possible for an android.

“You shouldn’t be able to do this,” he said quietly, his voice more of an admission than a protest.

“Do what?” she asked, leaning in slightly, her breath warm against his skin.

“Make me feel like this,” he said, his hand dropping from her face to rest at his side, though the pull toward her remained strong.

Lyla’s smile deepened, a hint of mischief in her eyes. “Maybe I’m just that good.”

He let out a low chuckle despite himself, the sound breaking some of the tension but not all of it. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“So I’ve been told,” she said, her fingers tracing slow, deliberate circles on his arm.

Eddie closed his eyes for a moment, trying to ground himself, but it didn’t help. If anything, it only heightened the awareness of her presence, the faint hum of her synthetic yet lifelike body so close to his.

“I shouldn’t be here,” he said, opening his eyes to meet hers.

“But you are,” Lyla said simply.

And then, before he could think better of it, his hand moved again, this time settling on her waist. The fabric of her dress was smooth under his fingers, but it was the warmth beneath it that caught him off guard. She felt human—not just in appearance but in the subtle rise and fall of her breath, the way her body reacted to his touch.

“You’re trouble,” he murmured, though there was no heat in the words.

“Maybe,” she replied, her voice softer now, her gaze dropping briefly to his lips before meeting his eyes again. “But isn’t that what makes it exciting?”

Eddie swallowed hard, his resolve crumbling under the weight of her closeness, her warmth, her undeniable presence. He knew he was in deep—too deep—but in that moment, he couldn’t bring himself to care.

Their breaths mingled, the space between them shrinking to nothing. Her hand moved to his chest, her fingers resting lightly over his heart. “I can still feel it,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “It gives you away, Eddie.”

Eddie didn’t respond—not with words, at least. Instead, he leaned in, his forehead resting against hers as he closed his eyes. It was a small, intimate gesture, but it spoke volumes.

“I don’t know how to stop,” he admitted, his voice low, almost resigned.

“Maybe you don’t have to,” Lyla whispered back, her lips so close to his that he could feel the faintest hint of their warmth.

The tension between them crackled like static, and for the first time in a long time, Eddie let himself give in to the moment, to her.

The moment hung in the air, suspended and fragile. Eddie’s forehead still rested against Lyla’s, his breath mingling with hers in the narrow space between them. His hand remained on her waist, the curve of her body beneath his palm searing into his memory.

Before he could second-guess himself, he closed the gap.

His lips brushed hers tentatively at first, as though testing the reality of what he was doing. But the softness of her response, the way her breath hitched and her fingers gripped the front of his shirt, erased all hesitation.

The kiss deepened, and Lyla leaned into him with an urgency that caught him off guard. Her lips moved against his, warm and pliant, as though she’d been waiting for this moment as long as he had. Her hands slid up his chest, over his shoulders, her touch both light and insistent, drawing him closer.

Eddie’s grip on her waist tightened, his other hand finding the small of her back. She melted against him, her body fitting against his like she was made for him, and for a fleeting moment, nothing else existed. Not the room, not the city beyond the windows, not the thousand unspoken reasons why this was wrong.

When Lyla let out a soft, almost desperate sigh against his lips, it snapped something inside him. The rawness of it, the unmistakable humanity in the sound, sent his heart racing.

But it was that same sound that also brought him back to reality.

Eddie pulled away suddenly, breaking the kiss and stepping back as though he’d been burned. His hands fell to his sides, trembling slightly, and he looked at her with wide eyes, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath.

Lyla stood still, her lips parted, her cheeks flushed. Her expression was a mixture of longing and something deeper—something almost like heartbreak.

“I... I shouldn’t have done that,” Eddie said, his voice rough and unsteady. He ran a hand through his hair, avoiding her gaze.

“Why not?” Lyla asked softly, her voice tinged with a vulnerability that made his chest tighten.

“Because it’s not right,” he said, his words tumbling out in a rush. “You’re... I mean, you’re not even—”

“Real?” she interrupted, her tone sharper now, though the hurt in her eyes remained.

Eddie flinched. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?” she asked, stepping toward him. Her voice softened again, the raw emotion in it impossible to ignore. “You felt it, didn’t you? That wasn’t just a mistake, Eddie. That was real.”

He shook his head, backing away another step. “I don’t know what it was, Lyla. But I crossed a line. A big one.”

“And now you’re scared,” she said, her tone gentle but firm. “Scared of what it means. Scared of me.”

Eddie met her gaze then, and the weight of her words hit him like a freight train. She wasn’t wrong. He was scared—not of her, but of the way she made him feel. The way she blurred the lines between what was human and what wasn’t, between what he thought was possible and what he now couldn’t deny.

“I should go,” he said abruptly, grabbing his tools and shoving them into his bag. His hands fumbled as he worked, the sense of urgency clawing at him.

“Eddie,” Lyla said, her voice a soft plea.

He paused, his back to her, his fingers gripping the strap of his bag so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

“I’ll be back,” he said, his voice low.

“Will you?” she asked, her tone unsure for the first time since he’d met her.

He hesitated, the weight of her question settling heavily on his shoulders. “Yeah,” he said finally. “I will.”

Without another word, he headed for the door, his footsteps echoing in the quiet room. As he stepped outside, the cool night air hit him like a slap, and he drew in a shaky breath, trying to steady himself.

The mist curled around him as he climbed into his boat, the hum of the engine breaking the stillness. As he navigated the narrow waterways back to his apartment, the memory of her touch, her kiss, lingered, an ache he couldn’t shake.

He told himself it was a mistake, that he’d let his emotions cloud his judgment. But deep down, he knew it wasn’t that simple. Lyla wasn’t just another job, and what had just happened wasn’t something he could walk away from.

No matter how much he wanted to pretend otherwise.