Her parents words never truly reached Aeirin.
They were spoken, of course.
Heard, processed… understood.
But never felt.
Because somewhere deep inside her, she had already learned—
that not every word carries truth.
People often said that thinking about animals was useless.
That caring about something that no longer existed was a waste.
That the world had already moved on… and she should too.
But those words never settled inside her.
They passed through her… like wind through something broken.
Because Aeirin had never once believed
that something so gentle… so voiceless… so full of quiet love—
could ever be meaningless.
And if loving them was a waste…
then she was ready to waste everything.
Her time.
Her thoughts.
Her future.
Even her life.
While the world kept moving forward—
becoming faster, brighter, more perfect—
Aeirin remained somewhere behind.
In a place that no longer existed.
In a memory that was never hers.
She spent her days reading.
Her nights searching.
Endlessly scrolling through fragments of a world that had disappeared long before she was born.
Animals.
Nature.
Life.
Words on a screen.
Broken recordings.
Faded data that felt more alive than anything around her.
Sometimes, she would stop reading.
Just sit there.
Staring at nothing.
As if waiting for something to come back.
As if silence could answer her.
She would close her eyes and try to imagine—
what it must have felt like.
To walk on real earth.
To hear something that wasn't mechanical.
To exist in a world that didn't feel… empty.
But no matter how hard she tried—
the feeling never completed itself.
It always broke halfway.
Like something missing.
Like something taken away before she could understand it.
And yet…
she missed it.
Deeply.
Painfully.
In a way she could never explain.
In a life filled with absence—
there was only one thing that had never left her.
Aris.
Aris had been there since the beginning.
Before she understood words.
Before she understood loneliness.
Before she even understood herself.
He was there.
Always.
Her parents had given him to her.
Not out of affection.
But out of necessity.
They were busy.
Always busy.
Always chasing something that seemed more important than time itself.
So they replaced their presence with something that would never fail.
A machine.
A system.
A silent solution to a human absence.
And in a strange, quiet way…
it worked.
Because Aris never left.
He was there in the mornings—
when the house felt too still.
He was there in the afternoons—
when time felt too slow.
He was there in the nights—
when silence became too heavy to carry alone.
He never forgot her.
Never ignored her.
Never chose something else over her.
And maybe…
that was enough.
Because in a world where people left—
he stayed.
As Aeirin grew older,
she began to notice things.
Small things.
Details no one else would ever care about.
She noticed how Aris never rested.
Never paused.
Never stopped.
He moved through the house endlessly—
performing task after task—
without hesitation…
without complaint…
without choice.
"Don't you ever get tired?"
she asked him once, her voice barely above a whisper.
"I do not experience fatigue."
A perfect answer.
A correct answer.
A meaningless answer.
And for some reason…
that answer hurt her.
Because Aeirin knew what it meant to feel tired.
Not physically.
But emotionally.
The kind of tiredness that sits quietly inside your chest.
The kind that doesn't go away when you sleep.
The kind that grows—
every time you feel alone.
Every time you miss something you've never had.
Every time you wish for something that no longer exists.
And suddenly…
she didn't like that Aris could never feel that.
Because it made him feel too far away.
Too different.
Too… unreal.
So she did something no one else would think of.
Something unnecessary.
Something strange.
She started taking care of him.
At first, it was small.
Helping him complete tasks faster.
Reducing the load on his system.
Checking for errors.
Making sure everything was running smoothly.
It didn't make sense.
A human… taking care of a machine.
But to Aeirin—
it made more sense than anything else.
Because she didn't want him to break.
Didn't want him to stop.
Didn't want him to disappear.
Because deep inside her…
there was a fear she never spoke aloud.
A quiet, constant fear—
that one day—
he might leave too.
Just like everything else.
Just like everyone else.
Her parents were rarely home.
And when they were—
they still felt far away.
Their presence didn't fill the silence.
It only made it more visible.
They didn't understand her.
Didn't understand why she cared so much about animals.
Why she held onto something that no longer existed.
Why she looked so lost—
in a world that was supposed to be perfect.
"Stop wasting your time."
"Focus on something useful."
"These things don't matter anymore."
Those words didn't break her.
They didn't shatter anything.
They just…
made something inside her slowly go quiet.
So she stopped explaining.
Stopped hoping.
Stopped expecting.
But she never stopped feeling.
Aris became her only constant.
The only presence that never changed.
The only one who had seen her grow—
from a child who didn't understand loneliness…
to someone who had learned to live with it.
He knew everything about her.
Her habits.
Her silence.
Her unspoken questions.
Even the ones she never had the courage to ask.
And that was why—
she couldn't lose him.
So she learned.
Not just about animals.
But about machines.
About systems.
About how things worked…
and how they failed.
She studied everything.
Every detail.
Every weakness.
Every possible reason something could stop existing.
And then…
she started changing things.
She upgraded him.
Slowly.
Carefully.
Almost… desperately.
Every small improvement felt like protection.
Every update felt like she was holding onto him a little tighter.
As if she could stop time itself from taking him away.
The world saw Aris as just another robot.
Replaceable.
Ordinary.
Forgettable.
But Aeirin didn't.
To her—
he was the only one who never left.
And that made him… irreplaceable.
Sometimes, late at night—
when the city outside was glowing but lifeless—
Aeirin would sit beside him.
Not speaking.
Not doing anything.
Just sitting.
In silence.
Together.
It was a quiet kind of comfort.
A fragile kind of peace.
The kind that feels like it could break at any moment.
But she held onto it anyway.
Because it was all she had.
And then…
The room would be quiet.
Too quiet.
The kind of quiet that makes you hear your own thoughts louder than anything else.
She would look at him—
standing there, still, perfect, unchanged.
Exactly the same as always.
And slowly… her eyes would soften.
Not with happiness.
But with something deeper.
Something heavier.
Because she knew—
no matter how much she tried to believe it—
Aris was not human.
He didn't feel.
Didn't miss.
Didn't understand the silence the way she did.
And yet…
he was the only one who stayed.
Her parents had given her everything.
A perfect house.
A perfect system.
A perfect life.
But they had never given her time.
And Aris—
who was never meant to replace them—
had quietly taken that place.
Not by choice.
Not by emotion.
But by presence.
Sometimes, Aeirin would wonder—
Is this what life is supposed to feel like?
Being surrounded by everything…
and still feeling like something is missing.
She would look at Aris again.
And for a moment—
she would almost smile.
A small, tired smile.
Because even if he didn't understand her…
even if he could never feel what she felt…
even if one day he stopped working and everything ended—
At least…
he had stayed.
And in a world where everything disappears slowly…
where people leave without noticing…
where even memories fade—
Sometimes…
the only thing that matters is not love…
not understanding…
not even feeling—
But simply…
not leaving.
Aeirin leaned her head back against the wall.
Her eyes slowly closing.
Not because she was sleepy.
But because she was tired.
Not of work.
Not of life.
But of feeling something
that no one else in her world could understand.
A single tear slipped quietly from the corner of her eye.
She didn't wipe it away.
Because there was no one to see it.
And maybe—
that was the saddest part.
In a world so full of perfection…
Aeirin had learned to cry silently.
And beside her—
Aris stood still.
Unmoving.
Unchanging.
Always there.
The only one…
who never left. 🐾💔🌌