I stepped out of the elevator into a vast emptiness of unpatterned whites and modern art. The large windows served as the backdrop of this space, and the outstretched fields of green outside only strengthened the feeling of emptiness I felt as I walked through the area.

The room was pin-drop silent. Not even the usual whir of the many vending machines was present - only my footfalls echoing through the marbled corners as I approached the equally desolate hallways.

It all gave off an eerie vibe. This feeling that the most fundamental aspect of this space was missing. People.

Indeed the lack of persons in uniform was a strange sight. It was one that would fit perfectly on the internet, as I recalled such spaces becoming somewhat of a trend.

Maybe I should take a picture and see if I can find somewhere to post it. I may not use social media much, but I'd appreciate the short-term validation.

I considered before throwing the thought away. The likelihood was high that the observant denizens of the internet would figure out that I was just an attention-starved office worker in their mid-twenties trying to join the bandwagon.

Such a thought scares me more than any room in the back. Plus, I'd be posting it today of all days.

Oh? What day is it, you may ask? Well, if the constant reminders from your TV or the incessant ramblings of your friends weren't enough to inform you, today is the day of love. Valentine's Day.

From a day honoring a literal saint to one that commodified the very nature of love, it was one hell of a decisive event.

Whether you saw it as a day that reminded single people of their singleness and how single they are, meaning the lack of a romantic partner according to the dictionary definition of single. Single.

Sir! Stop the single jokes! We're beginning to enter a singularity!

Or if you viewed it as that one day of the year when couples have to fulfill arbitrary goals for each other. And you had to oblige lest you suffer dire consequences enforced onto you by your partner and society.

Ah, Valentine's. The day with a little bit of something to hate for everyone. I can feel the love around me now.

That aside, from the perspective of us surveyors, Valentine's meant war.

To be exact, we get a lot of work. It made sense. The day of love meant a lot of work had to be done by the company, whose purpose was to meddle in such affairs daily. Many clients request assistance to set up dates and outings, and many would try their hand at aiAI's data-powered roulette wheel to see if they could land a date for the day.

If this sounds like a hassle, it is. People get antsy around Valentine's, which is by no means unreasonable. Life already does a great job of forcing you to find a significant other, whether it be due to your biology or society.

So, to make up for this, once everything-

And I do mean everything. I'm pretty sure I worked eighty hours last week alone.

Was said and done, aiAI grants its worker bees a nice break for the day itself. Along with the day following it.

And they even increase your pay for the month! And the free days off are also paid! Man, I love this job. Oh, that and money.

This reward most likely served the secondary function of avoiding the inevitable flood of calls and complaints the offices would get from the many couples out and about. But it at least meant we could take the load off, stay home and take a well-deserved break.

Or not.

Or else, I wouldn't be here in a mismatched denim jacket and joggers walking around the empty breakroom. Being so backed and overloaded meant that even the simple act of remembering to proofread and submit some documents was lost to me as the hectic week came to pass. As such, it meant that even on our scheduled and paid vacation, the wicked received no rest.

I think the last time I went here without a uniform was when I took the interview.

But it was nothing a veteran surveyor of Cupid's battlefield couldn't brave. It was just another day at the office like any other, which meant that some things would refuse to change too.

I opened the office door to be greeted by one of these eternal occurrences, though in a different flavor. Myla sat in her office chair, peacefully typing away on her computer.

The sight was as familiar as the back of my hand at this point, my dear partner wordlessly typing hundreds of words without speaking.

But today, she didn't don the flag of aiAI, instead sporting a casual ensemble of a boxy blouse and wide-legged jeans. Locks of her silver tresses hid behind her tiny ear as interlocking bobby pins held them in place. She wore a different pair of glasses today, rounded and shining rose gold, which tied together her charming little getup.

"Hmm..?" She sounded, looking up from her screen with a titled head.

"...Are you here to assassinate me?"

"As always, the answer is a disappointing no." Myla sighed before continuing to work, "So? Why are you here?"

"I just forgot to finish some stuff I'd rather not have on my mind during our short vacation. How about you?" I replied, walking to my desk and pulling the drawers to reveal my unfinished business.

"Then that means we're here under similar circumstances." She responded, her answer enough for both of us to begin working in productive silence.

Neither of us needed to make a conversation. We were here for work. In all honesty, while I never considered Myla particularly talkative, this last week has reinforced that trait in both of us. Aside from talking about our work, we had little time to banter. Even during our breaks, we saved our breath in order to consult the many clients we had to face for the day.

It was no wonder then that one little exchange was all we could muster before settling right back into the groove we had created over the week.

But it was hard to deny the effectiveness of such a strategy - all things considered, we make a pretty good team when we're not snapping at the chance to snap each other's necks. And before long, I held a stack of organized and rechecked documents with a contented smile.

"Oh? You almost done too?" I asked, turning my attention away from my handiwork and to my partner.

"Not quite. Could you come here and read this over?" She motioned towards her screen, prompting me to walk to her side to give it a once-over.

The document was as you'd expect from Myla. Exact, succinct, and almost robotic in its tone. It spared no details and yet spoke without ever being verbose. It was practically a flawless report. It showed no hint of personality, only information, yet ironically presented the author's personality perfectly.

"Looks good," I said, removing my arms from her desk and giving her a thumbs up, "Is that the last of it?"

"Yes. Thank you." She spoke before saving the file and closing the application.

"Good to see we got to finish that quickly, huh?"

"Those were just leftover tasks. But it is good to be freed from them." Myla added, turning off her device and standing up as well.

"Right, let's go." Walking over to the door and opening it for the both of us as I spoke.

We made our way through the still-empty space of our base of operations, our contrasting footsteps the only thing echoing through its halls until I decided to finally make some small talk.

"It's good to see I'm not the only one who doesn't have somebody to go out with on Valentine's," I said while grinning at the sad reality we shared.

"With how busy we are leading up to the day, I'm beyond grateful for my status."

"Eh, fair point. I'll take the warmth of my bed over a lover after that hellish week. Thank you very much." Myla scoffed, though not in any position to deny the truth of what I said.

"Still, it seems today's gonna go by really slowly," I said as we entered the elevator.

"I have some reading to catch up on, so I'm happy to have such an uneventful day." She replied, punching in the buttons to get us down.

"I usually watch movies, but the streaming service I use is forcing romance flicks down my throat today, so I'll probably go for a walk," I added as gravity began to pull us down to ground level.

Even if such an act deals critical damage to my self-esteem, my leveled emotional defense stat is more than enough to tank it.

We stepped off the elevator, clocking out at the exit with me waving goodbye to the automated guard standing by the door. It was as we set foot back into the sun's rays that I decided to ask Myla another question.

"By the by, you usually come and leave here via bus, right? Which means today..."

"I drove here today. I usually prefer to relax on my way home, but seeing as I planned to be here for a far shorter amount of time, I decided to drive." Myla responded, pulling out a pair of keys from her pocket and clicking them - a loud beep emanating from the parking lot.

"Neat. Wanna go out for a ride?"

"Eh?" She backed away almost out of reflex, the sudden motion and accompanying expression usually absent in Myla's vocabulary and tact.

"Why not? We're both free, and it'd be nice to go out without dreading the workload that followed us around last week." I tried to promote my case, to which my dear partner's face went from shocked to annoyed.

"I still see no reason to take you along with me, let alone spend more time with you on a non-work day."

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"We can head to that one bar-resto we've been eyeing for weeks ever since we went there to meet some clients. I'll pay for both of us."

"Or I could head there alone and spare myself a headache."

"I don't have a good counterargument for that. Can we start over?" Myla sighed, seeing that the age-old adage of the struggles of arguing with an idiot surpassed the difficulty of facing an intellectual.

"Fine. But if you so much as rile a nerve..." She stated as she turned away from me and began walking to the lot.

"Seems I already have. Oh, I'll pay for the gas too." I followed, but instead of finding ourselves at the main parking space, we stopped by the garage of aiAI.

"A creature of habit, huh?" I asked as Myla unlocked the doors to the silver-blue sedan in front of us - looking to be a fairly well-kept and new model.

"It also keeps it away from the hot sun." She replied as she entered, prompting me to do the same in the passenger seat.

"Still, you're being rather openhanded today, as annoying as it is."

"Oh? Well, we're getting a bonus and paid vacation days this month, so I don't see the harm in it." I answered my dear partner, whose expression became a little more relaxed after my response.

"I see. Then let me at least extend some thanks." And with that, she started the car and drove us out of the imposing but welcoming shadow cast by our castle.

So this is her car.

The sedan held within it black leather seats and a fragrant mist from a hanging bottle of air freshener. It was spotless. The chairs had a polished sheen, and there wasn't a crumb of dust in sight. And the air freshener didn't want to make me vomit out of the window.

"Well then, you take good care of this thing."

"If you take care of your car, it'll take care of you." She said matter-of-factly, keeping her eyes on the road as she did.

"You sound like a middle-aged dad teaching their kids life lessons on their way to school..."

"Well, at least you acknowledge which one of is the child in this relationship."

Gasp! But this is a professional relationship! Which means this is child labor! Quickly internet! Defame and destroy the name of aiAI! Mob mentality, go!

I've mentioned it a few times now, but Myla is actually a really damn good driver. She's skilled at maintaining a consistently comfortable performance and does so without tiring. Sure, she has a few intentional hiccups here and there, but ignoring those,

Just as she'd want me to do,

She's a fantastic captain to voyage with when sailing the asphalt seas and braving the storms of rush hour.

However, similar to the earlier feeling of familiarity tinged with nuance, seeing my partner man the wheel gave off a similar vibe.

Perhaps it was because she was driving her own steed paired with her informal attire - but the cold aura enveloping her felt very subdued - a rarety even prior to last week's schedule. I decided to stay quiet about it, instead enjoying the sight without so much as a peep to avoid earning her ire.

After thirty or so minutes of travel and a few unfun matches of I-spy, we arrived at the establishment.

Kind of.

Long story short, we were a block or so away from it. Parking was scarce as we were now in the heart of the city on the day of hearts, which meant a lot of people were out and found themselves in the economic center of the area where many food places called home.

"Yeesh, it looks like getting there isn't gonna be any easier than finding parking," I spoke, trying to talk over the voice of the crowd around us.

"Don't try to run away now. This was your idea." Myla replied, flawlessly maintaining her icy tone while raising its volume to speak to me.

"You just want to eat there too."

"But of course. Free food tastes great." My dear partner replied, turning around with a tiny smirk through the hordes of people around her.

Sometimes I don't want to agree with you.

The streets were overflowing with faces and voices. Many walked in pairs, with interlocked arms and synchronized footsteps, as they cheerily walked amongst the rest of the lovebirds.

But, between them, you could spot subtle blemishes hiding in the cracks. These poor sods were those either unfortunate or bold enough to brave this part of town without a romantic partner. And as such, they slipped betwixt the droves of romantics, trying their best to remain unseen by love-filled eyes.

Well, technically, I'm one of them, so...

But as my eye scrutinized these imperfections in the ocean of couples, I realized I lost sight of Myla in the crowd.

"Umm...Myla? You there?" I shouted out, but with the cacophony of voices, vehicles, and general city-noise flooding my ears, even if I did get a response, it was far from being received.

Aha. I feel like a lost child.

But, a lost child implies the existence of a searching parent, and indeed mine did return as something suddenly grabbed me by the hand.

"I told you not to run away, didn't I?" Myla pulled me in, her expression a mix of annoyance and a scowl.

If she wasn't so scary all the time, you could even call it a pout.

"Sorry about that. I guess I'm not good with crowds." I tried to cover for myself, but all Myla gave was an irritated hmph before turning her back with my hand still in hers.

"Just follow my lead." And with that, we began moving through the herd of bodies as I rode her coattails.

I just felt a dozen or so gazes of hostility appear on my back just now. I swear you guys are misinterpreting the situation. Myla sure knows how to turn the world against me.

After being dragged along and bumping into at least a college class' worth of people, I saw above the many foreheads in front of me the sign of the restaurant we were eyeing, causing me to tug at Myla's arm in excitement.

"Ah, Myla, we're here-"

"We have to go now." She spoke clearly but with an equally tense tone before pulling hard on my arm while running.

"What the hell are you on abou-" I nearly tripped, stepping over and past shoes and cracks in the ground before Myla cut me off again while still going.

"Move." There was no stopping her, and I could only throw apologies at those I flew past as my dear partner practically carried me to the resto's entrance.

She nearly slammed the door open once we arrived, taking in short breaths as we both stood in the middle of the opened entrance, bathed in the place's white lamplight and cloaked in its enticing smells.

"Welp! We made it! But what the heck was that back there?" I asked through unsteady breaths, a pleasant reminder of my perfectly healthy lifestyle and physical condition at twenty-three.

"I apologize for that," Myla spoke while similarly catching her breath, "I saw a pair exit and took the chance. With how crowded the city is today, there's a good chance this restaurant would be at max capacity."

"Wonderful. You were right to guess, then." I said as I got a good look at the place once I had properly reimbursed myself with oxygen.

The place actually served as a bar and dining area for the building, which was a hotel. However, with how popular it became as just a spot to get some good food, you could also just come in and treat it as a restaurant while getting the scrupulous care you'd expect from a hotel.

"A table for two, please." Myla requested as we were guided to an area by a waiter.

The place's aesthetic had a distinct vibe that made it drip with personality. Many walls and the floor were worn planks of wood, but the shiny varnish showed its true quality. Along with this, the rest of the walls were varied shades of reds and browns, either decorated by graffiti-styled spray paints or portraits of old artists whose songs played throughout the space. And topping it all off was the furnishings like seats, tables, carpets, and lamps that felt like they came from an antique collection and you had yourself a mixture of rustic and urban, a perfect fit for the casual-formal vibe of the restaurant.

"Ah, thank you." I bid the waiter who found us a spot and sat down, "This place serves what again exactly?" I asked Myla, who was flipping through the pages of the menu.

"Some dishes from the East, it seems? Southeastern, perhaps?" She replied as I opened the laminated leaves of the restaurant.

Her guess wasn't a blind one. Browsing through the different selections, meals containing a variety of foreign spices and things like peanuts sauces, seafood pastes, and a variety of rice meals all pointed towards her intuition being correct.

We scanned the items for another minute or so before a waitress came up to us with a beaming smile.

Oh God, they better be paying you extra to keep that up with this many people.

"Have you already decided on an order, sir? Ma'am?"

"Oh, yeah, sure. I'll have this, please." I pointed toward one of the peanut sauce dishes with beef which the lass promptly wrote down.

"And for you?"

"I'll take this, please," Myla answered, placing her finger on one of the seafood soups, peculiarly described as being sour.

"Wonderful." The waitress exclaimed, but before she finished jotting down our orders and having them started, she took the menu, opened it to one of the pages, pointing at it.

"If you'd like, we're giving away a free slice of traditional homemade purple yam cakes for couples who decided to eat here for Valentine's."

Ah, the classic dilemma of two people of opposite genders when going to a restaurant. I wasn't opposed to deceit in pursuit of sweets, but Myla was another question. I didn't want to try and ask her either since that would probably put suspicion over our word, so instead, I refused.

"Oh, it's fine. We're-"

"Is that so? You see, we've actually been dating for quite some time now." Myla began, stopping me in my tracks.

"We were matched by aiAI around a year ago and have been through thick and thin ever since. I would recommend checking out their services. If you need it, of course." My dear partner explained with a smile to match the waitress, beaming with beautiful deception obvious only to me.

"Oh? That's great to hear. I'll be giving getting your order then. Thank you again!" And with the smile still in place, she left us.

"You know," Myla's fake expression turned back to normal, though looking a bit smug, "I consider myself pretty good at seeing through service-worker smiles, and I'm pretty sure she wanted to stab you for practically showing off and then advertising in response to a yes or no question," I explained in detail, only getting a raised brow from my dear partner.

"And risk her questioning if we were actually a couple? And here I thought we would agree on this," Myla replied, not an ounce of regret in her voice, though sounding more mischievous than malicious.

"Eh. Fair enough. I wasn't above considering it either. Also, wasn't that the story one of our clients had? The ones who registered after they were a couple to get some help with stuff?" I asked, scrutinizing her swiftly devised and executed plan.

"Correct." A singular word consisted of her reply before she brought a glass to her lips to drink - still holding a proud smirk through the refractions of the water.

"I'm beginning to wonder why you sounded so opposed to coming here earlier."

Yet again, a side of Myla I had rarely seen appeared today. Seeing her use a white lie to get a delectable dessert was an impossible idea when we first met and remained a difficult one to imagine, even after knowing more of her quirks.

But I didn't exactly mind it.

Heck, it was endearing in a way.

As mature and uptight as she can be, Myla is even younger than I am, and I'm far from a perfect adult. Witnessing her commit something like this all for the sake of the momentary treat was a neat touch to the many descriptives I had for my peculiar but dear partner.

Our game of I-spy continued, strange decorations and nick-nacks edition as we awaited the arrival of our order. And after losing a few matches to Myla's sharp sense of sight, the bowls of our still-steaming dishes arrived on a platter.

"Please, enjoy." We nodded in response as the waitress placed our meals in front of us.

The smell was enchanting. The color of the sauce was rich, and I could already tell that the beef was pressure-cooked to perfect tenderness. I grabbed the utensils getting ready to dig in. But before I could, something caught my attention.

"Oh? You wanna take some pictures first?"

"Ah, don't mind me. I'm only taking a picture of mine. Feel free to start eating." She assured me as she took some shots of her soup before examining the pictures to see if there was one she was happy with.

I shrugged, not really minding it, and plunged the spoon into the bowl. As I scooped up a bite, I admired the small cube of meat coated in the brown-orange sauce before I sank my teeth into it.

Mmm. It's creamy, very peanut-y, and even from one nibble, I can tell it's gonna be hearty. Who knew peanut butter on beef could taste good?

Obviously, it was probably more than just that, but it was a great way of describing how pleasant of a surprise my first taste was.

"Welp, this already makes the traffic and crowds worth it," I said before taking another bite.

"That's good to hear," Myla spoke, still fiddling with her phone, "Give me a second. I just have to delete a few of them."

"It's cool. I never took you for the take pictures before eating type."

"Is that so? It's just we rarely eat anything worth memorializing." She answered, still not moving her gaze.

From what I knew, Myla didn't use social media much either, but she did use it enough to take pictures of events, outfits, and, I guess even food.

"You should try this, though, here." I grabbed another spoonful, trying to hand it to Myla.

"Ah, thank you." But as she remained distracted by her screen, instead of taking the silverware from my hand, she promptly opened her mouth and took a bite, still not looking away from her phone.

"Really? You'd rather be spoonfed by me than have a bad picture?" She closed her eyes and covered her lips, swallowing the morsel before replying.

"Free food tastes doubly good when served to you." She said with a close-eyed grin, putting her device down and finally grabbing a spoon and fork.

"You have some weird mottos," I said, taking a spoonful for myself this time.

"They're only strange if you don't understand them yourself," Myla stated as she took a spoonful of the bright orange seafood soup, blowing on it to cool it down before holding it out toward me.

"Go on then." She said gently, with her still cold voice.

I hesitated for a second. Seeing her half-smile that felt more authentic than any of the ones the employees here held made me pause in the hustle and bustle of the restaurant.

Ah, screw it. Food does taste good served like that.

I leaned in, casting away any doubts, and skipped heartbeats taking a bite of the soup.

"...It's still too hot," I said after swallowing it and having part of my tongue's tastebuds seared.

"Oh. Sorry." Even Myla's cold voice wasn't going to fix that, sadly.

And so, we finished our meals, gladly enjoying the wholesomeness and exotic flavors of the dishes.