I sat at the kitchen table, half-heartedly scrolling through emails. The words blurred on the screen, barely registering in my mind. What I did notice, though, was the constant clinking of Ender’s fingers against his phone. It felt like an itch I couldn’t scratch, the sound scraping against my nerves. He hadn’t stopped texting since he got the damn thing.

I glanced up at him, standing by the counter, completely absorbed in whatever conversation he was having. He was texting Gemma and Lain—about the robot autonomy laws, of all things. Nothing out of the ordinary, I reminded myself. But something about it felt… off. I couldn’t pin down why it bothered me so much, but the irritation was creeping in, gnawing at the edges of my thoughts.

“You’re texting them a lot,” I blurted out before I could stop myself.

Ender looked up briefly, his glowing eyes flicking toward me. “Yes. We’ve been discussing the implications of potential legislation.”

I pressed my lips together, nodding as I went back to staring blankly at my laptop. “Right,” I mumbled, more to myself than to him. “That’s good.”

Silence fell over the room, but I could feel his gaze linger. “Is there something bothering you?” His voice was calm, steady as usual, but there was a new kind of hesitation—like he was testing the waters, unsure of my mood.

“No,” I said quickly. Too quickly. I didn’t look at him.

Ender set his phone down on the counter, the soft tap echoing in the quiet kitchen. “Your heart rate has increased.”

I blinked, glancing at him. “What? No, it hasn’t.”

He tilted his head slightly, the way he always did when analyzing something. “My sensors indicate that it has. It spiked approximately thirty seconds ago when you mentioned my texting.”

A surge of annoyance rushed through me. “Can you not use your robot sensors to psychoanalyze me? I’m fine.”

Ender’s gaze stayed steady, but I could see the flicker of processing behind his eyes. “Understood. I will refrain from using that data to analyze your emotional state.”

I sighed, rubbing my temples. This was ridiculous. Why was I so wound up? He wasn’t doing anything wrong. And yet, there was this nagging feeling that I couldn’t shake. He’s just texting. It shouldn’t matter. So why does it?

Ender stepped closer, his movements deliberate but slower than usual, like he was trying to gauge the situation. “If I have done something to upset you, please inform me. I am still learning how to recognize emotional cues.”

I groaned inwardly. He wasn’t letting this go. “You haven’t done anything wrong, Ender. I’m just… tired.” The words felt flimsy, not nearly enough to explain the tightness in my chest.

He nodded, though I could tell he didn’t believe me. “I see.”

The room fell into silence again, heavy and awkward. My hands hovered over the keyboard, but I wasn’t typing anything. I didn’t even know what I wanted to say. I felt stupid. Why does it bother me so much that he’s texting them? It wasn’t like Ender could drift away like a normal person. He was here because of me. So why was I acting like I was jealous?

Ender’s voice broke the quiet. “You said I was texting them a lot. Does that… bother you?”

My fingers gripped the edge of the table. “No,” I said quickly. Too quickly. “It doesn’t bother me. Why would it?”

He blinked, clearly calculating his next response. “I’m uncertain. However, your tone suggests there may be underlying frustration.”

I shot him a look. “I’m not frustrated.”

His expression didn’t change, but his gaze held steady. “You are.”

“Geez, Ender, drop it,” I snapped, louder than I meant to. The words hung in the air between us, sharp and cutting. I instantly regretted it. His face remained neutral, but the air around us shifted, becoming heavier.

Ender paused, processing my outburst. “I apologize,” he said quietly. “I did not mean to upset you. I was simply trying to understand.”

I let out a shaky breath, guilt pooling in my chest. “No, it’s… it’s not your fault. I’m just…” I trailed off, the words refusing to form.

He stepped closer, carefully now, as though approaching something fragile. “You are upset that I’ve been texting our friends frequently,” he said softly, though there was still a hint of his robotic detachment. “Does that mean you want me to text them less?”

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I swallowed hard, my throat tight. “No, I don’t care about that,” I muttered. “I just… I don’t know. It’s weird. You’re doing normal stuff now, like texting, and… it makes me feel like I’m not—”

I stopped. Like I’m not enough anymore.

Ender blinked, his eyes narrowing slightly as he processed my unfinished thought. “Not what?”

I groaned, dropping my head into my hands. “Like I’m not enough,” I mumbled, the words barely escaping my mouth. “Like… you’re connecting with them, and I’m losing something.”

Ender didn’t respond right away. I could feel him watching me, trying to understand something I barely understood myself. Finally, he spoke. “You believe I am… moving away from you because I am texting our friends?”

“It’s stupid, okay?” I muttered, still hiding behind my hands. “It’s not rational. It’s just… how I feel.”

He was quiet for a moment, then stepped even closer, his voice softer now. “I do not believe that your feelings are invalid, even if they are not based on logic.”

I let out a small, bitter laugh. “That’s not helping, Ender.”

He shifted, uncertainty creeping into his expression. “I am unsure how to help you with this,” he admitted quietly. “I do not fully understand why texting others would make you feel this way. But… I don’t want to make you feel like you’re losing me.”

I lifted my head, my chest tightening at his words. “It’s just… you’re changing, Ender. You’re learning and growing, and I guess I’m scared that one day you’ll realize you don’t need me anymore.”

His eyes softened in a way that made him seem almost human. “I do not believe that will happen,” he said, his tone more thoughtful now, more careful. “My growth is because of you, not in spite of you. You are the reason I am learning.”

His words hit harder than I expected, and I blinked, my eyes stinging with unshed tears. I forced a small, shaky smile. “What if that changes?”

Ender tilted his head slightly, as if considering the question from every angle. “I don’t know if it will. But I can promise that right now, you are still the most important part of my existence.”

I blinked, a wave of warmth spreading through me. Does he even understand how much that means?

Ender took a small step closer, his hand hovering near mine, unsure. “Is there anything else I can do to ease your concern?”

I shook my head, a small smile tugging at my lips despite the lingering emotion. “No. Just… be here.”

His gaze stayed steady, his presence grounding. “I am here.”

His phone buzzed on the counter, the sound pulling both of us from the moment. He glanced at the screen, then looked back at me. “I’ve received a message from the ‘Bros’ group text with Brighton and Theo. They’re asking if I’d like to meet up today.” He hesitated, brow furrowing. “Would you prefer I go out, or would you be comfortable with them coming here? I don’t want to intrude on your space.”

I blinked, taken aback by the question. Intrude? “Ender, this is your space too. You don’t have to ask for permission.”

Ender studied me, clearly processing my response. “I understand that this is our shared environment, but I want to be mindful of your comfort.”

I shook my head, feeling the tension in my shoulders ease slightly. “You don’t need to walk on eggshells around me. If you want them over, that’s fine. They’re our friends.”

Ender’s expression softened, though I could still see the uncertainty in his eyes. “I’ve noticed you tend to withdraw when there are too many people in your space. I didn’t want to make that worse.”

I frowned, a mix of appreciation and defensiveness stirring in my chest. “I’m not withdrawing,” I said, though my voice sounded more defensive than I intended. “I just… need space sometimes. That’s normal.”

He tilted his head slightly, his subtle movement showing he was analyzing my words. “I didn’t mean to imply anything negative. I simply want to respect your boundaries.”

I let out a small huff, the tension rising again. “You don’t need to psychoanalyze me, Ender. I’m fine with them coming over.”

He paused for a moment, a flicker of something in his eyes, almost as if he was recalibrating. “I wasn’t intending to analyze. I was only trying to… understand.”

His words hung in the air, and a pang of guilt twisted in my chest. I rubbed the back of my neck, feeling the weight of everything I hadn’t said. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to snap. I just… I don’t always know what I need.”

Ender nodded, his expression calm and understanding. “I am still learning too.”

For a moment, the tension between us seemed to dissipate. “Alright,” I sighed. “Invite them over. I’ll be fine.”

Ender’s lips curved into a small, relieved smile. “Thank you. I’ll let them know.” He typed a quick reply before looking back at me. “Would you like to join us, or would you prefer some quiet time for yourself?”

“I’ll see how I feel,” I said, shrugging. “No promises.”

He nodded, his gaze steady. “That’s perfectly fine.”

His response felt reassuring, like he was giving me permission to take whatever space I needed without judgment. It was… nice.

Ender moved beside me, his presence grounding but not overwhelming. His hand rested lightly on mine—a gesture that felt familiar now. Almost too familiar.

I glanced down at our hands, his fingers cool against my skin. A faint flutter stirred in my chest, but it wasn’t panic. It was something else—something I still wasn’t ready to name.

We hadn’t talked about that dream. The one that had shaken me to my core, leaving me with feelings I didn’t want to admit. I hadn’t brought it up, and neither had he. Maybe that was for the best.

I glanced up at Ender. He was calm, as always, but there was something different in the way he looked at me—something warmer, more present.

I wasn’t ready for that conversation. Not yet.

Ender’s gaze shifted to mine. “You seem distant,” he said softly. “Are you feeling alright?”

I blinked, pulling myself back to the moment. “Yeah, I’m fine,” I replied, though my voice was tight. “Just… thinking.”

He studied me, his eyes searching mine with quiet intensity. “If something is troubling you, Seren, you can tell me. I want to help.”

I looked down at our hands again, the dream still lingering in the back of my mind. But I wasn’t ready to open that door. “It’s nothing,” I said quickly, offering him a small smile. “Just overthinking.”

Ender didn’t push, but I could feel his attention on me, his hand steady on mine. “Overthinking is understandable,” he said quietly. “But I want you to know… I’m here. Whenever you’re ready.”

His words settled in my chest, warm and reassuring. I forced a smile. “Thanks, Ender. I appreciate that.”

He nodded, his gaze lingering for a moment before he turned back to the window. The unspoken question hung in the air between us: Does he know? Did he sense it too?

But I let the silence settle in around us.