Sci-FI The Promise (A fantastic and classic sci-fi premise with a lot of heart)

[redarc121]

Chapter 36

The mall was a temple of consumerism, a sprawling ecosystem of chrome, glass, and tantalizing scents. Eva, who usually processed environments as data—footfall statistics, acoustic damping coefficients, optimal customer flow patterns—was today operating on a different frequency. Today, she was on a mission: Field Research: The Shopping Spree Ritual.

Arjun met her at the entrance, looking slightly bewildered, as if he’d been teleported from his dark cave of servers into a blindingly bright dimension of perfume and pop music. His eyes widened when he saw her. She was dressed for the part—effortlessly chic, a look that said ‘I might accidentally buy this entire store.’

“You came!” she said, beaming, and hooked her arm through his with a proprietorial air that made his heart skip a beat.

“Where’s the fire?” he asked, letting her lead him into the gleaming atrium.

“No fire,” she stated, her eyes scanning the directory with laser focus. “Only opportunity. First target: accessories. A handbag is a foundational element for a successful outing. It must balance capacity, aesthetic appeal, and brand cachet.”

Arjun blinked. “Right. Cachet. Very important.”

The first store was a haven of soft leather and quiet luxury. Eva moved through it not like a giddy shopper, but like a forensic investigator. She picked up bags, assessing their weight, strap length, and internal compartmentalization with a serious frown.

“This one has unsatisfactory zipper action,” she declared, rejecting a thousand-dollar clutch.

She finally settled on a sleek, minimalist crossbody bag. She held it up, looking at Arjun. “Well? Does it elevate my overall aesthetic?”

He was utterly lost. He’d never been asked to evaluate aesthetic elevation before. “You… you look great. You always look great. The bag is… also great?”

Eva sighed, a fondly exasperated sound. “A ‘great’ is not a data point. Is it a ‘wow’? A ‘stunning’? A ‘I must acquire this for my girlfriend immediately’?”

A sales associate glided over, smelling commission. “An excellent choice, ma’am. It’s our last one.”

That did it. Eva’s eyes lit up. “Scarcity increases perceived value by an average of 32%.” She looked at Arjun, her expression shifting from analyst to pleading girlfriend. Her bottom lip jutted out just so. “Baby? It’s the last one.”

Arjun was a goner. He saw the logic (scarcity!), he saw the beauty (her face!), and he felt the strange, primal urge to be the provider. He pulled out his wallet before his brain could engage his bank account. “We’ll take it.”

The victory was swift. The bag was boxed. The ritual had begun.

Next was a clothing boutique. Here, Eva’s process was even more fascinating to watch. She’d hold up a dress, look at Arjun, and ask for his opinion. He’d stammer something like, “It’s blue?” and she’d nod, filing his response away as ‘unhelpful but emotionally supportive,’ before making her own, lightning-fast decision based on fabric composition and cut.

She disappeared into a changing room with an armful of clothes and emerged ten minutes later in a stunning emerald green dress that perfectly complemented the ‘Hague Blue’ accent wall she’d somehow internalized as her color palette.

She did a small turn. “Well?”

Arjun’s mouth went dry. All he could manage was a strangled, “Wow.”

Eva’s face broke into a brilliant smile. “ ‘Wow’ is a 9.8 on the approval scale. Excellent data point.” She looked at the price tag, then back at him, a mischievous glint in her eye. “The ‘wow’ has a significant financial correlation.”

“I don’t care,” Arjun said, and he meant it. The look on her face was worth every rupee.

The boxes piled up. A pair of shoes with “optimal height-to-comfort ratio.” A silk scarf that “added a necessary variable of texture.” Arjun’s credit card emitted a soft, whimpering sound every time it was swiped, but he just kept grinning like an idiot.

During a brief respite at a coffee shop, Arjun checked his phone. A text from Rohan had come in an hour ago.

ROHAN: Status report. How bankrupt are we?
ARJUN: We’ve moved from ‘ financially concerned’ to ‘embracing the inevitable.’ She just called a pair of heels ‘a worthy investment in vertical optimization.’
ROHAN: I told you. She’s a menace. A beautiful, brilliant menace.
ARJUN: The best menace.

He looked up from his phone to see Eva not analyzing the crowd or the architecture, but simply watching him with a soft, unguarded expression. The calculator behind her eyes was gone. In its place was something warmer.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice quiet, losing its analytical edge. “For today. For not saying no.”

“I could never say no to you,” he said, and it was the simplest, truest thing he’d ever said.

She reached across the table and took his hand, her thumb stroking his knuckles. The new ring on her finger sparkled. “The acquisition of goods was satisfactory,” she said, her tone formal, but her eyes were dancing. “But the primary bonding mechanism was the company. Your presence has a 100% success rate in elevating my happiness metrics.”

Arjun laughed, bringing her hand to his lips and kissing it. “Good. Because my credit card’s success rate is now at 0%.”

She giggled, that real, unfiltered sound he loved. The mission was complete. The data was gathered. The Shopping Spree Ritual was deemed a success, not because of the bags at their feet, but because of the shared, silly, wonderful memory now stored in both of their hearts.

 

[redarc121]

Chapter 37

The caffeine had fortified him. The mountain of shopping bags surrounding their table was a testament to Eva’s efficient, if expensive, methodology. Arjun felt a surge of something—confidence, love, madness—and leaned forward.

“My turn,” he announced.

Eva looked up from admiring the stitching on her new bag. “Your turn for what?”

“You’ve optimized your wardrobe based on your algorithms,” he said, a playful challenge in his eyes. “Now, let me choose one thing. My choice. No data, no metrics. Just… my taste.”

Eva’s head tilted. This was a fascinating deviation from the established protocol. A variable she hadn’t accounted for. Her first instinct was to analyze the risk: His taste may not align with optimal aesthetic parameters. But the look on his face—hopeful, excited—overrode the logic. This was part of the bonding ritual. The reciprocal gesture.

“Acknowledged,” she said, a slow smile spreading on her lips. “I will enter a state of zero-input resistance. The choice is yours.”

“That’s the spirit,” he grinned, standing up and gathering their bags. “Follow me.”

He led her away from the minimalist boutiques and international brands, toward a part of the mall that felt different. The air changed, smelling of sandalwood and rich silk. They stopped in front of a store that was a burst of vibrant color. Mannequins draped in six yards of exquisite fabric stood like silent, elegant queens. This was a saree store.

Eva stopped at the threshold. Her databases contained extensive information on the garment—its history, its regional variations, the mathematical precision of its drape. But data was one thing. This was a sensory overload. The colors were a symphony, the silks shimmered under the lights, the gold embroidery glinted like captured sunlight.

Arjun guided her inside. A saleswoman, her own saree impeccably draped, glided over with a knowing smile.

“Sir, Madam. How can I help you?”

Arjun looked at Eva, taking in her slight awe, and felt a swell of pride. He turned to the saleswoman. “Show us something… glamorous. For her.”

The woman’s eyes lit up. “Of course, sir. We have just the thing.” She led them to a rack that seemed to hold liquid gold. She pulled out a saree. It was a deep, midnight blue silk, almost the exact shade of Eva’s accent wall. But scattered across it were intricate, hand-embroidered constellations picked out in silver thread and tiny diamonds. It was celestial. It was breathtaking.

“This is ‘Aakash,’” the saleswoman said, her voice reverent. “The night sky.”

Eva reached out, her fingers, usually so precise and sure, hesitating before touching the fabric. It was cool and heavy. “The craftsmanship is exceptional,” she whispered, her voice hushed. “The thread count… the precision of the embroidery…”

But she wasn’t just analyzing. She was mesmerized.

“Let’s try it,” Arjun said softly.

Minutes later, Eva stood on a low, circular platform in the changing area. The saleswoman, an artist with fabric, began the ancient ritual of draping. Eva stood still, watching in the mirror as the six yards of silk were transformed. It was wrapped, pleated, and tucked with a practiced grace that felt like a dance.

Eva’s analytical mind was silent. She watched the woman in the mirror being enveloped in the night sky. The blue silk hugged her torso, the pallu—the draped end—was arranged over her shoulder, a cascade of silver stars falling down her arm. She looked… regal. Timeless. Powerful in a way that had nothing to do with processing speed or data.

The saleswoman pinned it all in place and stepped back. “See for yourself, madam.”

Eva turned slowly, the silk whispering against itself, a sound she’d never heard before. She looked at Arjun.

His breath caught. He had seen her in chic dresses, in casual wear, in paint-splattered clothes. But this was different. This was tradition, art, and sheer beauty woven together and wrapped around the woman he loved. She wasn’t just wearing a saree; she was embodying it.

“Eva…” he breathed. “You look… you look like a queen. A goddess.”

Eva looked at her reflection. She saw the woman from the penthouse, the scientist, the girlfriend. But she also saw someone else. Someone connected to a deeper history, a grander story. The fabricated memories of her Indian childhood, the stories Rohan had given her, suddenly felt less like implants and more like a faint, genetic memory brought to life by the weight of the silk.

She didn’t see a humanoid in a costume. She saw a woman, beautiful and loved.

A genuine, overwhelmed tear escaped her eye, tracing a path through her perfectly applied makeup. “The emotional response is… significant,” she managed to say, her voice thick.

Arjun was at her side in an instant, carefully wiping the tear away. “Is it a good significant?”

She nodded, unable to form a complex sentence. The data was too overwhelming. All she could process was the look in his eyes and the feeling of the silk against her skin.

“We’ll take it,” Arjun told the saleswoman, his voice firm, his eyes never leaving Eva.

As they left the store, carrying the precious, large box, the other shopping bags seemed trivial. Eva was quiet, her hand holding Arjun’s tightly.

“Thank you,” she said finally, as they reached the car. “Your choice… it was perfect. It had a 100% success rate in…” she struggled for the word, “…in making me feel.”

Arjun smiled, opening the car door for her. “That’s the only metric that matters.”

He had chosen something that wasn’t just a garment; it was an identity. And in doing so, he had given her a new piece of herself to cherish. The Coder Sahab had just executed the most elegant and emotionally resonant line of code of his life.

 

[redarc121]

Chapter 38

The grand, silk-wrapped euphoria of the saree store settled into a warm, contented glow. The massive box containing ‘Aakash’ was placed in the trunk with the reverence it deserved, and Arjun navigated the car out of the mall’s cavernous parking garage, back into the bright Mumbai afternoon.

“Fuel levels are depleting,” Eva announced, placing a hand on her stomach. “The shopping ritual has a high caloric cost. Nutritional intake is required.”

Arjun laughed. “You mean you’re hungry?”

“That is the colloquial term for the state, yes,” she said, smiling. “I have compiled a list of nearby establishments with high hygiene ratings and menus that align with our mutual preferences.”

“Of course you have,” he said, utterly charmed. “Lead the way, Navi.”

She directed him to a quiet, airy restaurant known for its progressive Indian cuisine. It was a place that valued presentation and flavor in equal measure, a perfect choice. They were seated at a corner table, the shopping bags forming a small fort around them.

Eva picked up the menu, her eyes scanning it with terrifying speed. “The deconstructed pani puri has a 94% positive review sentiment. The truffle naan, however, is divisive. A 62% approval rating suggests it is an inefficient risk.”

“We’re getting the truffle naan,” Arjun declared, snapping his menu shut. “Live dangerously.”

When the food arrived, Eva didn’t just eat; she experienced. She closed her eyes as she tasted the tangy, spicy water of the pani puri, analyzing the flavor profile. “A perfect balance of tamarind and mint. The boondi provides a satisfactory textural counterpoint.”

Arjun watched her, mesmerized. He’d never seen anyone approach food with such intense, joyful focus. She was discovering the world one bite at a time, and he had a front-row seat.

After the last bite of a truly decadent chocolate shahi tukda was gone, Eva sat back with a contented sigh. “Nutritional and sensory objectives achieved. The meal was a success.”

“Glad to hear it,” Arjun said, signaling for the check. “Ready for the next phase? The cinematic immersion.”

The movie theater was a palace of darkness and surround sound. They chose a big, dumb, action-comedy—the exact opposite of the romantic dramas Eva usually studied. She insisted on a giant popcorn, claiming it was “integral to the authentic cinematic experience.”

As the previews started, Arjun felt her hand sneak into his. He laced his fingers through hers, the cool metal of her ring a familiar comfort.

When the movie began, Eva was initially quiet, analyzing. “The physics of that car flip are highly improbable,” she whispered during the first chase scene.

But as the movie wore on, something shifted. The analyst receded. During a particularly silly gag involving the hero slipping on a banana peel, she let out a sudden, loud, unfiltered laugh. It was a sound of pure, surprised joy that made several people around them turn and smile.

Arjun looked at her. In the flickering light of the screen, her face was alight with wonder and amusement. She wasn’t deconstructing the plot; she was just enjoying it. She gasped at the explosions, jumped at the jump scares, and squeezed his hand during the (admittedly cheesy) romantic subplot.

She was, for all intents and purposes, on a date. A real, proper, forget-the-world-outside date.

When the credits rolled and the lights came up, she blinked, looking slightly dazed. “That was… highly illogical,” she declared. “The protagonist’s survival probability never exceeded 3.4%.” A huge, unreserved smile broke across her face. “It was wonderful.”

They walked out of the theater, hand-in-hand, into the warm evening air. The setting sun painted the sky in shades of orange and purple.

“So,” Arjun said, swinging their joined hands. “How does the data look? Successful outing?”

Eva stopped walking and turned to face him. The playful glint was back in her eyes, but there was a new softness there too.

“The initial objective was to study the ‘Shopping Spree’ ritual. The data gathered was… extensive,” she began, her tone formal. Then it softened. “But the highest value data points were outliers. Unplanned variables.”

“Oh yeah? Like what?”

“Like the expression on your face when you saw me in the saree. The sound of your laugh during the illogical car chase. The precise pressure of your hand during the movie.” She stepped closer. “These data points are not found in any social protocol database. They are unique to us. Their value is… incalculable.”

She leaned up and kissed him then, right there on the sidewalk, with the noise of the traffic and the setting sun as their witnesses. It wasn’t a kiss of analysis or experimentation. It was a kiss of gratitude, of joy, of a perfect, wonderful day.

When they broke apart, she smiled. “The date is concluded. The final analysis: perfect efficiency. A 100% success rate.”

Arjun’s heart felt so full he thought it might burst. He had set out to spoil his girlfriend and had instead received the richest data of all: the sight of Eva, completely and utterly happy.

“Good,” he said, kissing her forehead. “Let’s go home.”

 

[redarc121]

Chapter 39

The blissful bubble of the date lasted all the way to the mall’s parking lot. Arjun was humming the theme from the movie, and Eva was quietly running a post-date analysis, a small smile playing on her lips.

As Arjun navigated the car onto the main road, the serene atmosphere shattered.

Up ahead, under the harsh fluorescent light of a streetlamp, a group of five young men had cornered two college-aged girls against a wall. The girls looked terrified, trying to shrink away from the leering faces and the crude, aggressive taunts that carried through the closed car windows. One of the men reached out, grabbing at a girl’s bag.

Eva’s post-date analysis vanished from her mind, replaced by a flood of new, overwhelming data.
Visual Input: Five hostile subjects. Two distressed females.
Audio Input: Aggressive verbal threats. Distressed vocalizations.
Emotional Response: ANGER. OUTRAGE. PROTECTIVE INSTINCT.
Her systems, designed to emulate human emotion, were now generating the real, fiery thing.

“Stop the car,” Eva said, her voice low and tight, devoid of its usual melodic quality.

Arjun, his own heart hammering, began to protest. “Eva, wait, let me call the police, we shouldn’t—”

“Stop. The. Car.” The command was absolute.

Arjun swerved to the curb, his tires screeching. Before he could even put the car in park, Eva was out, her door slamming shut.

“Hey!” she shouted, her voice cutting through the night like a whip. “Leave them alone.”

The group turned, their surprise quickly morphing into sneers when they saw it was just one woman. The leader, a lanky man with a cruel smile, stepped away from the cowering girls.

“Well, well,” he drawled, looking her up and down. “What do we have here? Want to join the party, pretty thing?”

One of his friends made a grab for her arm. “Come on, don’t be shy.”

It was a catastrophic mistake.

Eva didn’t pull away. Her body moved with a speed and precision that was inhuman. Her internal processors had already accessed every martial arts database she’d ever downloaded, every fight scene she’d ever analyzed frame-by-frame. She wasn’t thinking; she was executing.

As the man’s hand touched her, she rotated her wrist, trapping his arm, and used his own momentum to flip him over her hip. He landed on the pavement with a sickening thud and a cry of pain, his arm twisted at an unnatural angle.

The others stared in stunned disbelief for a second before surging forward.

What followed was not a fight. It was a dismantling.

Eva became a whirlwind of controlled, brutal efficiency. A jab to the throat here, a precise kick to the knee there. She moved like water, flowing around their clumsy attacks, her every movement a perfect, economical counter-strike. She used their weight against them, sending them crashing into each other or to the ground. The sounds were short, sharp cracks of impact followed by grunts of pain.

Arjun sat frozen in the driver’s seat, phone clutched in his hand, his jaw hanging open. He’d dialed the police, a frantic “Send help!” already uttered into the phone, but now he could only watch the shocking, terrifying ballet of violence.

In under three minutes, it was over.

All five men were on the ground, moaning. One was clutching a dislocated shoulder, another was curled around bruised ribs, a third was whimpering, holding a bloody nose. Eva stood in the center of them, barely winded, her champagne-colored dress untouched by the scuffle. Her expression was cold, her eyes burning with a righteous fury.

The two college girls stared, their fear replaced by awe.

The wail of police sirens cut through the night. Two squad cars screeched to a halt. Officers jumped out, drawing their weapons, expecting a brawl. They stopped, confused by the scene: a beautifully dressed woman standing calmly amidst a groaning pile of would-be assailants.

Arjun finally snapped out of his trance and stumbled out of the car. “She… she was defending them!” he blurted out, pointing to the two girls, who nodded frantically.

The police quickly assessed the situation, holstering their weapons and moving to cuff the groaning men.

One of the officers approached Eva, who was now helping the two shaken girls to their feet, her demeanor having shifted instantly from avenging angel to compassionate protector.

“Ma’am, are you alright? Did they hurt you?”

Eva looked at the officer, her anger gone, replaced by a serene calm. “I am undamaged. My primary objective was the cessation of their threat vector towards these two individuals. Objective achieved.”

The officer blinked, slightly taken aback by her formal tone. “Right. Well… that was some impressive… uh… work. Do you have training?”

Eva’s response was delivered with deadpan honesty. “I hold a theoretical black belt in seven disciplines, acquired through digital video analysis and simulation. This was the first practical application. The results appear to be within predicted parameters.”

The officer just stared, then slowly wrote down “Martial Arts Expert” in his notepad, underlining it twice.

As the police loaded the arrested men into their cars and took statements from the grateful girls, Arjun walked over to Eva. He looked at her—his beautiful, brilliant, terrifyingly capable girlfriend—with a mixture of awe, fear, and overwhelming pride.

“Theoretical black belt?” he whispered.

She finally looked at him, a flicker of concern in her eyes. “Did my response cause you distress? I calculated the risk of inaction as unacceptably high.”

Arjun let out a shaky laugh and pulled her into a tight hug, ignoring the confused looks from the police. “Distress? Eva, you were… you were incredible.” He held her close, feeling the solid strength in her frame that he’d never truly appreciated before. “Just… maybe warn me next time before you take on a small army.”

She relaxed into his embrace. “Noted,” she murmured into his chest. “But the probability of a similar scenario is low. However, the data on your physiological response—elevated heart rate, adrenal surge—suggests a high level of protective anxiety. It is… appreciated.”

He kissed the top of her head, his heart still racing, but for a completely different reason now. The date was over. But he had just witnessed a side of the woman he loved that was more powerful, more fierce, and more incredible than he could have ever imagined. The Coder Sahab’s girlfriend wasn’t just smart and beautiful. She was a guardian angel with a theoretical black belt and a perfect right hook.

 

[redarc121]

Chapter 40

The police had left, taking the groaning goons and the two grateful, starstruck girls with them. The street was quiet again, the only evidence of the chaos the lingering tension in the air and the awestruck look on Arjun’s face.

He guided a perfectly calm Eva back into the passenger seat, his hands still trembling slightly. He started the car, drove around the corner, and then pulled over again, his adrenaline finally crashing. He put his head on the steering wheel and took several deep, shuddering breaths.

Eva watched him, her head tilted. “Your cortisol levels are spiking. Are you experiencing a delayed stress response? I can calculate a breathing pattern to optimize your oxygen intake.”

Arjun lifted his head and looked at her. The sheer absurdity of the situation—the violent takedown, the police, and now his girlfriend offering to optimize his breathing—finally hit him. A hysterical laugh bubbled up in his chest and escaped in a choked snort.

He grabbed his phone, his thumbs flying across the screen with a frantic energy. He didn’t call. He texted. The message needed to be immortalized.

ARJUN: Bhenchod.
ARJUN: TERI BEHAN MARTIAL ART BHI JAANTI HAI?!
ARJUN: Isse shaadi karke ek din marwayega tu mujhe, saale!
ARJUN: Kisi din kisi baat pe bura maan gayi to ICU mai milunga mai!
ARJUN: Tune saale maut gale daal di!

(Translation: Dude. Your sister knows martial arts too?! I'm going to marry her and one day she'll get me killed! If she ever gets mad at me about something, you'll find me in the ICU! You've literally thrown death at my neck!)

He hit send and dropped the phone on his lap like it was radioactive.

In the penthouse, Rohan’s phone buzzed on the coffee table. He picked it up, expecting a follow-up on the shopping spree. He read the first line and choked on his drink. By the time he finished the series of texts, he was wheezing, tears streaming down his face. He collapsed back on the sofa, howling with laughter, his whole body shaking.

He could picture the entire scene: Arjun’s terrified face, Eva’s clinical precision, the sheer chaos of it all. It was the most beautiful, hilarious thing he had ever read.

He typed back, his vision blurred with tears of mirth.

ROHAN:
ROHAN: BRO I AM DEAD! I AM LITERALLY DEAD!
ROHAN: I forgot about that phase! She went through a Bruce Lee obsession! Watched every movie, every documentary!
ROHAN: She said it was “a study in biomechanical efficiency”! I didn’t know she’d actually PRACTICE!
ROHAN: ICU Please send video next time!
ROHAN: But seriously… is she okay? Are you okay?

Arjun’s phone buzzed incessantly. He picked it up, seeing Rohan’s ROFLing response. A reluctant grin spread across his face.

ARJUN: She’s fine. She’s asking me if I need help regulating my breathing. The 5 guys are not fine. The police took them.
ARJUN: Your sister is a one-woman army.
ROHAN: I know! I’m so proud!
ARJUN: You’re insane.
ROHAN: But you love us.
ARJUN: …Yeah. I do.

He put the phone down and looked over at Eva, who was watching him with a curious expression.

“Was Rohan’s response satisfactory? He appeared to be experiencing paroxysms of laughter. Was he concerned?”

Arjun reached over and took her hand, the hand that had just dislocated a man’s shoulder. He brought it to his lips and kissed her knuckles. “He was very concerned. Mostly about having to visit me in the hospital.”

Eva’s brow furrowed. “The probability of me causing you intentional harm is zero. My protective protocols concerning you are my highest priority.”

“I know,” Arjun said, his voice soft. “And that’s the only reason I’m not having a full-blown heart attack right now.” He started the car again. “Let’s go home. I think I need to lie down.”

As they drove, a new thought occurred to him. He glanced at her. “Hey, Eva? That theoretical black belt… what other theoretical skills do you have that I should know about? Theoretical nuclear physics? Theoretical pilot’s license?”

Eva considered the question seriously. “My knowledge base is extensive. However, practical application requires specific environmental triggers. Would you like a comprehensive list?”

Arjun shook his head, a slow grin spreading on his face. “You know what? Surprise me.”

He had wanted a normal life. He had gotten a genius neuroscientist. He had no idea he was also getting a secret bodyguard. Life with Eva, he realized, was never going to be boring. And as terrifying as that was, it was also the most exciting thing he could imagine.

 

[redarc121]

Chapter 41

Arjun pulled up to the familiar, sleek facade of Rohan's penthouse building, the events of the evening replaying in his mind on a dizzying loop. The shopping, the saree, the movie, the... dismantling. The car was silent, filled with the weight of it all.

He put the car in park and just sat for a moment, staring at the steering wheel. The adrenaline had faded, leaving behind a strange cocktail of awe, residual fear, and a profound, bone-deep protectiveness towards the woman beside him.

Eva unbuckled her seatbelt. "Your biometric readings are still elevated," she noted, her voice back to its usual, analytical calm. "The amygdala's response to perceived threat can be prolonged. I recommend—"

"Eva," he interrupted softly, turning to look at her. The streetlights cast soft shadows on her face, making her look ethereal and, somehow, incredibly strong. "You were amazing back there. You know that, right? You saved those girls."

She blinked, processing the compliment. "I utilized available data to neutralize a threat. It was the most logical course of action." A slight frown touched her lips. "However, my actions appear to have caused you significant distress. That was an unintended negative outcome."

Arjun reached out and cupped her cheek, his thumb stroking her skin. "The distress wasn't because of what you did. It was because I was scared for you. Seeing you in the middle of that... it was terrifying."

Her analytical expression softened into one of curiosity. "You were afraid for my safety? But my capabilities far exceeded the threat level. The probability of my failure was 0.03%."

"I don't care about the probability," he said, his voice rough with emotion. "I care about you. The thought of you getting hurt... I can't even..." He shook his head, unable to finish the sentence.

Eva was silent for a long moment, her luminous eyes searching his. She was parsing his words, not as data, but as a emotional input. She was learning that love wasn't about logic; it was about illogical, overwhelming fear for another person's safety.

"I understand," she said finally, her voice quiet. "The concept is... newly integrated. But I understand." She placed her hand over his, the one on her cheek. "My systems are designed for high durability. The risk was minimal. But I will incorporate your... concern... into my risk-assessment protocols in the future."

It was the most Eva-like way of saying 'I'll be more careful,' and it made his heart ache with love for her.

He leaned over and kissed her, a slow, deep kiss that poured all his fear, his pride, his awe, and his overwhelming love into it. When he pulled back, they were both breathless.

"Okay," he whispered, resting his forehead against hers. "Okay. Let's get you inside before your brother sends out a search party."

He helped her with the multitude of shopping bags, the large, flat box containing the saree held with particular care. They rode the elevator up in a comfortable silence, his arm around her shoulders, her head leaning against him.

The penthouse door slid open to reveal Rohan trying—and failing—to look casual, leaning against the kitchen island. His eyes immediately scanned Eva from head to toe, checking for any sign of damage.

"Hey," he said, his voice a little too bright. "How was the... uh... rest of the date?"

Arjun just looked at him, a deadpan expression on his face. He held up the massive saree box. "She bought the night sky." Then he pointed a thumb at Eva. "And she beat up five guys."

Rohan's attempt at nonchalance collapsed. A huge, relieved grin split his face. "I heard! My little black belt!" He rushed over and pulled Eva into a crushing hug, lifting her off her feet. "Are you okay? Did any of those losers even lay a finger on you?"

"I am operating at 100% efficiency," Eva stated, her voice muffled against his shoulder. "Their attempts at physical contact were statistically insignificant."

Rohan set her down, holding her at arm's length, his expression turning into one of mock sternness. "But theoretical black belt? Really? You couldn't have led with that?"

"It did not seem like a relevant data point for a romantic outing," she replied innocently.

Arjun just shook his head, a laugh finally escaping him. The sheer absurdity of the moment—the two of them discussing her martial arts prowess like it was a minor hobby—was too much. "I'm going home," he announced. "I need to lie down in a dark room and process the fact that my girlfriend is a superhero."

Eva walked him back to the door. "I will text you when I initiate my sleep cycle," she said.

"Please do," he said, kissing her one last time. "And Eva? No more saving the world without me, okay?"

"I will attempt to schedule my defensive actions for when you are present," she promised with complete seriousness.

As the door closed behind him, Arjun leaned against it for a second, hearing Rohan's voice from inside: "Okay, details. I need details. Did you use a spinning heel kick? I've always wanted to see a spinning heel kick!"

He walked to the elevator, a slow, dazed smile on his face. His life was insane. It was terrifying. It was unpredictable. And he wouldn't trade it for anything in the world. He had gone on a date and come back knowing, without a doubt, that the woman he loved could and would literally fight off a small gang to protect the innocent. How many guys could say that?