Year 2026.
Noah Astaros, having just turned twenty-nine, attended the international virology conference in Geneva for the first time.
Noah was considered one of the most promising minds of his generation. His work on viral replication mechanisms in the coronavirus had caught the attention of the most exclusive circles within the scientific community.
As someone who enjoyed the tranquility of his solitude, Noah couldn't stand crowds.
After the conference ended, he had taken refuge in a corner of the cocktail lounge with a glass of wine he had barely touched.
—Excuse me, Dr. Astaros?
A soft voice sounded beside him, with a barely perceptible accent that Noah couldn't place. When he looked up, he found himself gazing into green eyes that seemed to shine with their own light beneath the lounge's dim lighting.
She smiled with a mix of shyness and admiration that disarmed any attempt to keep his distance.
—Yes, that's me —Noah replied, straightening up instinctively.
—My name is Valeria Costa —she said, extending a hand—. I'm a pharmacist, I work at the Institute for Biomedical Research in Barcelona. Your lecture on immune evasion mechanisms was... fascinating, truly.
Noah took her hand in a firm but brief handshake.
—Thank you. Do you also research coronaviruses?
—Not exactly —she shook her head gently, and a lock of her brown hair fell across her face—. My field is antiviral pharmacokinetics, but your approach gave me some ideas for a personal project. If it's not too much trouble... could we talk another time? I'd love to get your opinion on some experimental designs.
There was something in her gaze, an intensity that Noah found magnetic. It wasn't just her beauty that drew him in —though it certainly was that— but the way her words seemed carefully chosen and her natural elegance.
—Of course —Noah said, feeling for the first time that night that the event was worthwhile—. I'll be here until Friday.
---
The following days were a whirlwind of endless conversations, coffees in small bars near the lake, and nighttime walks along cobblestone streets.
What started as talks about their respective research fields quickly turned into informal dates.
Valeria was brilliant, Noah had sensed that from the very first moment. But she was also funny, ironic in just the right measure, and possessed the ability to make him feel understood.
—I never talk this much about myself —Noah confessed to her as they walked alongside the lake—. Normally I'm more... reserved.
—Maybe you just needed the right person —she replied, and her smile lit up the darkness.
When the conference ended, Noah returned to his lab in London with a divided heart. They exchanged emails, then calls, then video calls that stretched into the early morning hours. Three months later, Noah took a leave of absence and traveled to Barcelona.
She waited for him at the airport with a sign that read "Welcome, genius" and a bouquet of flowers that Noah thought was the most absurd and beautiful gesture in the world.
—You're such a sap —he said, hugging her.
—And you're emotionally stunted —she replied, kissing him—. But you're my favorite emotionally stunted man.
---
The following year was perfect.
Noah secured an associate research position at the University of Barcelona, and they rented a small apartment with a balcony overlooking the street and a flower that Valeria tended as if it were her child.
Their days were spent working at their respective institutes, and their evenings were spent cooking together, discussing science, making love, and planning a future they both imagined to be bright.
—Would you like to have children? —Valeria asked one night, curled up against his chest.
Noah took a few seconds to respond.
—I'd never really thought about it, to be honest. My work has always been... well, my life.
—I know, but life is more than work, isn't it?
He looked at her, feeling an unfamiliar tenderness.
—I guess with you, it is.
She smiled, and Noah could have sworn that in her green eyes danced the promise of everything that was yet to come.
Three months later, Valeria came home with a small box from the pharmacy wrapped in gift paper.
—Happy anniversary —she said, with a nervous smile.
Noah opened the package. Inside was a pregnancy test. Positive.
—You're going to be a dad —she whispered, tears in her eyes.
Noah hugged her so tightly she protested, laughing. That night, they both cried tears of joy.
---
As the following months passed, Noah began to notice small changes.
At first, they were insignificant details: calls Valeria would take at odd hours and in a low voice, sudden departures she'd justify as "last-minute meetings," a new reticence when he asked about her work. Noah attributed it to the pregnancy, to nerves, or to pressure. After all, she was still the same affectionate woman who kissed him every morning before leaving for work.
But then there were the nights Noah would wake up and find the bed empty. He'd find her in the living room, staring intently at her computer, and when he asked, she'd close the laptop abruptly and say, "Insomnia, honey. Go back to bed."
One early morning, fed up with this dynamic, Noah decided to install security cameras in the apartment. Not out of distrust —he told himself— but for security. With a baby on the way, he wanted to make sure everything was in order.
He never imagined those cameras would end up destroying his world.
On an ordinary Thursday, Noah left early for the lab, but forgot some documents and returned home just past eleven in the morning. Upon entering, he heard voices in the living room. He stopped in the hallway, hidden behind the slightly open door, and saw Valeria talking to two men in dark suits.
—Everything is ready —she said in a language Noah didn't recognize—. Noah's design has what we need. It's more efficient than any strain we've developed internally.
—Are you sure he doesn't suspect anything? —asked one of the men.
—Completely. The man is blinded by love. With my pillow talk, I've managed to steer his research toward the outcome we desired. The poor man thinks we're having a child, for heaven's sake —she said while caressing her swollen belly.
The men laughed.
—Good. Finish the job. Extract all the data and disappear. The government wants the project active before the end of the year.
—Don't worry —said Valeria, and in her tone there was a coldness and indifference that chilled the blood—. That's my mission, isn't it?
Noah retreated silently. He left the building and walked for hours without direction, without understanding what the hell was happening, with only Valeria's expressions replaying in his head like a cruel echo.
Was she cheating on me? It didn't seem like it. So what the hell is going on?
That night, when he returned home, she was waiting for him with dinner prepared and a radiant smile.
—How was your day, love?
Noah looked into her eyes, searching for any trace of the woman he thought he knew. He found nothing.
—Good —he lied—. A normal day.
The next day, Valeria disappeared.
Noah arrived in the afternoon and found the apartment empty. Her side of the closet, her books, her photographs... everything was gone as if it had never existed. On the kitchen table, a handwritten note:
"I'm sorry, Noah. It wasn't real. Don't look for me."
But that wasn't the worst part. The worst part was what he discovered when he reviewed the camera footage.
The previous night, Valeria had aborted the baby.
He watched it all on his computer screen, hands trembling and stomach clenched in a knot of pain: her entering the bathroom with another unknown woman, emerging hours later with a haggard face, wiping away blood while the unknown woman put the remains of his child into a plastic bag. Then, with absolute coldness, Valeria sat in front of her laptop and copied years of Noah's research onto an external hard drive.
When she finished, she stood up, looked at her belly which still held a slight roundness, and said aloud, as if speaking to someone:
—I'm sorry, little one. But you cannot exist. You were just a means to an end, and you've already served your purpose.
Noah watched the video over and over, unable to process it. Then he broke down crying in silence, clutching his head.