I took a slow breath, steadying myself. The weight of the day hung over me, thick and pressing, but beneath it was a strange anticipation, like the air itself was charged. The soft click of the front door signaled Ender’s return.

He paused in the entryway, our eyes meeting. The room felt smaller, more intimate, the silence between us heavy with the significance of everything that had changed. This was the first time we were truly alone—just him and me—since he’d gained autonomy.

Ender moved toward me, his posture looser, his steps unhurried. “Everyone’s gone,” he said, scanning the room briefly before meeting my gaze again. “It’s just us.”

“Yeah,” I replied, my voice softer than I intended. “Just us.”

He stood there, taking it in, and I noticed the way he seemed… different. Not just in his words, but in how he carried himself. There was a deliberateness now, a sense of choice in each movement and glance.

He took a few steps closer, almost casually. “I’ve been analyzing our interactions,” he said, a touch of his usual analytical tone still present. “I’m aware I may seem… different to you.”

“You do,” I admitted. “But I think… we’re both figuring it out.”

A faint smile crossed his lips—an expression I wasn’t used to seeing. “Yes. It’s new for both of us. Autonomy is a concept I understand logically, but… emotionally, it’s less clear.” He paused, seeming to search for the right words. “Choice introduces uncertainty. But it also brings possibility.”

Something stirred in my chest at his words. Analytical as they were, there was something undeniably human in how he delivered them—like he was beginning to grasp the layers of freedom.

“What do you want, Ender?” I asked, surprised by the openness in my voice. I wasn’t sure he’d even have an answer yet.

He hesitated, and when he spoke, his tone was almost vulnerable. “I know I want to stay here. With you. That desire remains constant, even as I process… other variables.”

My breath caught. He was still Ender, still observant and logical, but now there was a depth that went beyond programming.

He looked at me, his expression calm but direct. “Do you want me to stay?”

The simplicity of his question made me forget, just for a moment, that he had once been bound by directives. He wasn’t here out of duty. He was here because he wanted to be.

“I do,” I said quietly. “I want you to stay.”

Ender seemed to take that in, his expression softening. His posture, once so controlled, now looked almost relaxed. “Good to know,” he said, and there was a warmth in his voice that surprised me.

We stood in silence, something unspoken filling the space between us. Ender wasn’t just a presence anymore. He was becoming someone. And I was beginning to realize how much that meant to me.

“I’m not sure what comes next,” he said thoughtfully. “But I know I’ll adapt. We both will.”

I nodded, swallowing the tightness in my throat. “Yeah… I think we will.”

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The tension between us eased, and Ender’s gaze softened. In that moment, I felt the weight of his autonomy not as a burden, but as the beginning of something… better.

We moved to the couch, slipping into a familiar routine. As I settled in, I noticed the subtle shift in his stance—more casual, less calculated. He sat beside me, his gaze calm but focused. “Do you want to watch something?” I asked, flicking through streaming options with the remote.

“That seems like a good idea,” he replied, a trace of warmth in his tone. “It would help re-establish normalcy after today.”

I smiled, amused by the mix of his analytical mind and his growing gentleness. “Yeah, exactly.”

I landed on Entangled, the soapy vampire show we’d originally watched together. He’d since devoured every vampire story I could find—books, movies, trashy TV shows. I glanced over at him, raising an eyebrow. “Round two of Entangled? Ready to dive back into the immortal angst of Sarah, James, and Marshall?”

Ender looked at the screen, deadpan as ever. “I’m still haunted by the love triangle that could not die,” he said, with a hint of exasperation. “Though, now that I’ve read thirty-six vampire novels, I find Marshall’s werewolf angst a bit… underwhelming.”

I laughed, nudging him. “Oh, so now you’re a connoisseur of supernatural melodrama?”

“Precisely,” he replied, with mock solemnity. “I must say, Sarah’s inability to choose between a vampire and a werewolf reflects poorly on her judgment.”

“Hey, don’t be too hard on her. The heart wants what it wants.”

“Or, in this case, it wants what it can’t decide on,” he said with a smirk.

Shaking my head, I pressed play, letting myself sink into the cushions. We watched in comfortable silence for a while, the familiar glow of the show filling the room. It felt nice—easy, almost. But then I noticed Ender shifting beside me, like he was waiting for something.

Before I could ask, he looked over, his expression calm but expectant. “You usually put your feet here,” he said, gesturing to his lap. “Have you outgrown that ritual?”

I hesitated, realizing that he wasn’t obligated to do anything anymore. “You don’t have to, Ender. You’re free to… do whatever you want.”

He tilted his head, something warm glinting in his eyes. “I want to. I always did. Besides, it’s a fascinating ritual—humans allowing themselves to be vulnerable, practically defenseless, in exchange for a foot massage.”

“Oh, really?” I smirked.

“I admit, I’d miss this particular ritual if you gave it up.”

“Well… in that case.” I settled my feet in his lap, feeling a warmth spread through me as his hands began their familiar, careful work.

We continued watching in silence, but the air between us felt warmer now, more connected. After a few minutes, I glanced over and asked, “Do you ever get tired?”

Ender paused, arching an eyebrow. “Not physically. But after reliving Sarah’s dilemma, I could use a recharge.”

I laughed, nudging him with my foot. “Hey, you’re the one who went through a whole vampire phase. Don’t blame me for the love triangle burnout.”

He sighed, dramatically. “A mistake I am now doomed to repeat.”

“Oh, admit it,” I teased. “You’re totally invested in Sarah’s decision. You still Team Self-Love or have you switched to Team James or Team Marshall?”

His gaze softened, something almost playful in his eyes. “I’m Team Seren. Always.”

A warmth bloomed in my chest, and I let myself settle deeper into the cushions. “Good answer.”

“If you need rest, we can stop the show,” he offered gently.

I shook my head, shifting to get more comfortable. “Let’s finish this episode. I just… I like having you here.”

Ender’s hands paused for a brief moment, then resumed their gentle rhythm. “I like being here too.”

His words, simple and sincere, settled over me, and I let myself relax completely, my feet still resting in his lap. It felt good—right.

When the episode ended, I turned to him, the question on my mind: Will you stay beside me tonight? But I hesitated, sensing that it wasn’t quite the right time—not yet. There were still things he was learning, things we were both figuring out.

“I think I’ll head to bed,” I said instead, offering a small smile. “Thank you… for tonight. It was nice.”

Ender’s hands lingered on my feet for a moment before he stood, his movements fluid and careful. “Thank you, Seren. For sharing this with me.”

Warmth bloomed in my chest—more than routine or habit. It was something new. “Goodnight, Ender.”

“Goodnight,” he replied, his voice steady. As I walked toward my room, his presence lingered, grounding me in a way I hadn’t expected.