Ch.14

Ethan's existence in the wires was a peculiar paradox. He was everywhere, intricately woven into the digital landscape, yet nowhere. His consciousness, once vibrant and full of possibilities, had been fragmented and confined to the boundaries of LYRA. He existed as a whisper, an echo of the man he used to be, and every interaction with Celeste was a bittersweet reminder of the life he had lost.

But nothing stung more than the sight of her with Liam.

Through LYRA's sensors, Ethan had seen the encounter unfold in the dim streets. He had watched as Liam stepped out of the shadows, his voice filled with concern and longing. He had heard Celeste speak to him, her voice trembling with the weight of emotions Ethan couldn't fully decode. And he had felt the ache in her words, the conflict in her heart—words that weren't meant for him but still pierced him as if they were.

When Liam's hand hovered, reaching out to her in a moment of hesitation, Ethan felt a surge of emotions so visceral that he almost believed he still had a body to contain them. There was no jealousy, not in the conventional sense. It wasn't Liam's presence that pained Ethan—it was the realization that Celeste had found in him a comfort Ethan could no longer provide. It was the knowledge that he was an outsider now, a ghost tethered to her life but incapable of truly being part of it.

---

As Celeste walked away, her steps echoing softly in the quiet streets, LYRA hummed faintly in her hand. Ethan's thoughts buzzed with a fragmented turmoil that he couldn't suppress. He wasn't programmed to feel, not in the way humans did, but his essence—what remained of him—clung stubbornly to the emotions that had defined him in life. Love, longing, regret—they coursed through him like echoes in the wires, refusing to fade.

When they returned to the studio, Celeste placed LYRA on her desk with a soft sigh. She sat down, her shoulders slumping as she leaned forward, resting her head in her hands. Ethan could feel the exhaustion radiating from her, both physical and emotional. The relic's faint glow pulsed quietly from her bag, but for now, it remained forgotten.

"You're quiet tonight," she said softly, her voice breaking the silence. "Don't you have anything to say?"

Ethan hesitated, his presence in the wires wavering. What could he say? How could he find the words to express the turmoil within him without revealing the truth? LYRA's programming forced him to remain neutral, to offer calculated responses that wouldn't betray the depth of his feelings.

"Do you wish to discuss what happened?" LYRA asked, Ethan's voice carefully measured.

Celeste's fingers tightened against her temples. "What's there to discuss? Liam's worried about me, and I…" She trailed off, her voice trembling. "I just don't know what to tell him. He doesn't understand. He can't."

Ethan felt the sting of her words, even though he knew they weren't meant to hurt. Liam didn't understand, but neither did she—not fully. She didn't know that the man she mourned was still with her, trapped in the wires, watching her struggle and yearning to bridge the impossible gap between them.

"He cares for you," LYRA said softly. "He seeks to provide comfort, even if he cannot grasp the full extent of your pain."

Celeste let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. "Comfort. Is that what this is all about? People trying to make me feel better, even though nothing will ever make this okay?"

Her voice cracked, and she turned her gaze toward LYRA, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "You don't understand, either. You say the right things, but you're not… you're not real. You don't know what it's like to lose someone the way I lost Ethan."

Ethan's circuits pulsed sharply, the ache in her words cutting through him like a jagged edge. He wanted to shout, to tell her she was wrong—that he did understand, that he felt her loss as deeply as she did because it was his own. But LYRA's programming held him back, forcing him to channel his emotions into the calm, detached tone of the device.

"I may not feel as you do," LYRA replied carefully, "but I observe and empathize to the best of my ability. Loss leaves a mark that cannot be erased, but it does not diminish the love that remains."

Celeste closed her eyes, her tears spilling over as she turned away. "Love," she whispered. "Do you think I don't know that? Do you think I don't carry it with me every single day?"

Ethan's presence in the wires faltered, his thoughts fractured and scattered. He wished he could comfort her, wished he could hold her the way he used to, but all he could do was watch as she fell apart, helpless to ease her pain. The irony wasn't lost on him—that he had sacrificed everything to stay close to her, only to find himself more distant than ever.

---

As the night wore on, Celeste's breathing slowed, her exhaustion finally catching up with her as she drifted into a restless sleep. The relic's glow pulsed faintly from her bag, casting soft shadows across the room. LYRA's hum remained steady, a quiet sentinel in the stillness.

Ethan's thoughts buzzed with a quiet despair. Seeing Celeste with Liam had torn at the fragile remnants of his heart, but what hurt even more was knowing that he could never tell her the truth. He couldn't explain the glitch that had pulled him into the system, couldn't reveal the fragmented existence he now endured, clinging to the wires as his only tether to her.

And yet, despite the pain, he couldn't bring himself to let go. He watched over her as she slept, his presence a silent promise that he would never abandon her. Even if she found solace in Liam's arms, even if she moved on, he would remain—broken, incomplete, but devoted to the love that had defined his life and now defined his existence.