Arisa Would Never

"What happens if I decide to continue with your service?" I asked, folding my arms and giving Mavrik a measured look.

Mavrik's ever-present smirk grew just a touch wider. "If you decide to continue after the trial, then some of the currently locked features will become fully functional," he explained, leaning in slightly for dramatic effect. "Like, for example, deactivating the Love Magnet."

"Or," I countered, raising an eyebrow, "I could just not continue, and everything goes back to how it was."

For a brief moment, something flickered across Mavrik's face—something complicated, almost like hesitation. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by his signature professional smile.

"Well, it's really your decision, Arisa. We can't force you to use our services after the trial ends. That would be... against company policy," he said, his voice cool and detached. Then, just as I was about to respond, he added with a dramatic pause, "But… are you sure you want to let this pass?"

I frowned slightly, sensing the faint edge of persuasion creeping into his tone.

"You don't have to pay anything," he continued casually, almost like it was an afterthought. "I mean, you've got nothing to lose… Except, of course, your old identity."

I said nothing, my thoughts swirling.

Mavrik studied me, and for the first time, his smirk faltered into something closer to a sigh. He straightened up, brushing an imaginary speck off his sleeve, before looking at me again.

"Look, Arisa. You don't have to give me your answer right now. You still have two more days to decide. But if I were you…" He leaned in with a conspiratorial glint in his eye. "I'd make the most of it while it's sitting here on a golden platter."

His words hung in the air, and despite myself, I couldn't help but wonder: Was this golden platter an opportunity—or a trap?

And with that, Mavrik's hologram flickered out of existence.

I slumped back on the couch, grabbed the wine glass sitting on the table, and downed its contents in one go.

"Mavrik's right," I muttered to myself, staring at the empty glass like it held the answers to life. "For now, I'll explore this SCAL app and decide later. Let's see where this little experiment takes me."

The next morning, I walked into my office, my assistant trailing behind me, rattling off the day's schedule like a well-oiled machine.

"You have a meeting with a VIP client during lunch," she announced. "And Horatio—"

But I wasn't listening. Her voice faded into a distant buzz as my mind replayed this morning's Love Magnet-induced chaos.

It was happening again.

On my way to the office, my usual peaceful routine had turned into a circus. At my favorite café, a guy paid for my coffee before I could even reach for my wallet. A florist handed me a bouquet of roses "just because," and chocolates had mysteriously appeared in my car.

The pièce de résistance? A police officer stopped my car. I braced myself for a ticket—because of course I'd forgotten to renew my parking sticker—but instead, he handed me a slip of paper with his number scrawled on it and a charming wink.

The Love Magnet feature was in full force, and it wasn't cute anymore. It was suffocating.

Even my sacred escapes—my yoga retreat, my gym, my favorite spa—felt off-limits. I couldn't bear the thought of walking into a serene space, only to be mobbed by admirers or have someone interrupt my meditation with unsolicited serenades.

I sighed, shaking my head as I plopped down at my desk. How was I supposed to survive another day of this madness? This feature was ruining my perfectly peaceful life.

But one thing was clear: if this app wanted me to overhaul my love life, it sure wasn't going to let me do it quietly.

I raised a hand to silence Erica, my assistant. "Cancel all my appointments for today. I need to be alone."

Erica froze, blinking in surprise. "Miss Ariana, you can't! Today's meeting with the VIP client is crucial!"

I shook my head, already feeling the weight of her protest. "I have a splitting headache, Erica. I won't be able to concentrate, and if I'm not at my best, our negotiations won't turn out the way we want. We'll just end up wasting their time—and ours."

Her lips tightened in disapproval. It was no secret Erica wasn't thrilled with me stepping into this role. After all, she'd begrudgingly accepted my existence only after a memo and email announced that I, Ariana, the supposed niece of Arisa, would be taking over.

Erica sighed dramatically before stomping off toward the door, but not without tossing a final barb over her shoulder. "If Miss Arisa were here, she would never do this!"

Her words landed like a slap.

She was right. The old me—Arisa—would never take a day off.

Whether I was sick, battling cramps, or drowning in emotional turmoil, I'd show up, plaster on a smile, and push through. Because landing the deal always came first. Always.

I leaned back in my chair, her words echoing in my mind. That relentless drive, that refusal to pause, was part of what made me successful. But it was also what sabotaged my relationships.

I'd prioritized clients over partners, deals over feelings. I couldn't count the number of times I'd brushed off a date to take a late-night call or canceled plans last minute to prepare for a meeting. I thought it was worth it—until it wasn't.

And now, here I was, given a chance to rewrite my story, and I couldn't help but wonder: Could I really let go of that part of me? Could I prioritize myself—and maybe, just maybe, my happiness—for once?

I sighed, swiveling my chair toward the window and watching the city buzz with its endless, hectic energy.

If this new identity was meant to overhaul my love life, maybe it was time I started overhauling me.