In the second year of my arranged marriage to Andrew Osment, my first love suddenly returned to the country. One evening, my husband, who had always been a man of cool composure and quiet pride, handed me a document. A divorce agreement. I stared at it for a few seconds, completely floored. "What is this?" His voice trembled. "Your old flame is back. I'll step aside." I could only manage a single, bewildered sound. "—Huh??" 1 The work dinner ended late, and it was nearly eleven when I got home. I kicked off my heels, rubbing the ache in my neck as I walked inside, only to find my path blocked by my husband. Andrew Osment was staring at me, his expression a mask of cold fury. "You've been drinking?" "A little," I admitted. He let out a short, sharp scoff. "You never drink. What, are you that happy to see an old lover?" My mind was sluggish from the alcohol, and it took me a moment to register the sarcasm dripping from his words. I looked up, meeting his gaze directly. "If you have something to say, Andrew, just say it. I'm exhausted." His eyes roamed my face, then suddenly locked onto a single spot, his gaze turning glacial. "Why is your neck red?" I instinctively reached up and scratched it. "A bug bite, maybe?" "Was that bug's name Evan Cole?" he sneered. Evan Cole. My ex-boyfriend. Suddenly, Andrew's strange behavior tonight made perfect sense. Before I could say a word, he thrust the document he'd been clenching in his hand toward me. "Sign it." My eyes fell to the bold letters at the top of the page: DIVORCE AGREEMENT. It's no exaggeration to say that I sobered up instantly. "Why the sudden divorce?" I asked, my voice laced with disbelief. "Isn't this what you've always wanted?" he shot back. "Evan Cole just gets back in the country, and you immediately run off to have drinks with him, coming home smelling of..." His gaze dropped to my neck again, and he fell silent. "It wasn't a social thing with Evan," I argued. "I was meeting with the CEO of OmniCorp to discuss a partnership. I told you about this project." "You were drinking with Evan Cole," he repeated, fixated on that one point. "Yes, Evan was there, but I didn't know he would be," I tried to explain. "He's good friends with Mr. Harrison. They were drinking together. I could hardly ask him to leave, could I?" The more ridiculous truth, I kept to myself. What right did I have to ask Evan to leave? We were nothing to each other anymore... Andrew was silent for a moment. "Forget the OmniCorp deal. The profit margin is low anyway. I'll give you other projects." An unexpected windfall was always nice, but I couldn't understand it. "Why do you care so much about Evan Cole?" Ours was a marriage of convenience. After a year, we were still little more than polite strangers. Our conversations revolved around meals and sleep, with the occasional mention of work. That was it. This robotic dynamic even extended to our physical life. We were intimate every Friday night, exactly three times. Not once in the entire year of our marriage had that pattern been broken. I’d complained about it to my best friend, Nancy, once. After her initial shock, she’d sighed and said, "I guess that's just Andrew Osment for you." Andrew was a legend in our circles. Everyone had heard their parents praise him, and everyone had lived in his shadow. It was one thing to excel in one area, but to be a master of all of them, as he was, was almost unheard of. On top of that, he was incredibly self-disciplined and emotionally stable. It was impossible not to admire him. I used to admire him, too. Until I married him. How did this perfectly calibrated machine become my husband? The golden boy, the prodigy—he was much better admired from a distance. Living with him was a true test of one's sanity. The machine-like husband finally spoke. "Why can't I care?" "We dated, yes," I clarified, "but that ended years ago. I'm your wife now. There's... nothing between him and me." "I hope you mean that." "What?" "I don't tolerate flaws," he said, his voice flat. "Not in my life, and not in my marriage. I don't want my marriage to end because you were unfaithful." So that was it. I offered a sincere promise. "It won't." Satisfied with my answer, Andrew turned and walked into the bedroom. 2 By the time I finished showering, it was nearly midnight. I was lying in bed, drifting off, when I heard him ask, "What do you want for breakfast tomorrow?" "What are my options?" "Crab and pork wontons, pan-fried beef dumplings, or strawberry pancakes." "The dumplings," I said. "Extra crispy this time, please." "Mm." I must not have eaten much at the dinner, because the thought of Andrew's beef dumplings made my stomach rumble. The man was a phenomenal cook, another area where his perfectionism shone. I'd had my share of fine dining, but his cooking always managed to surprise me. The first time I'd tasted his crab wontons, they were so sublime I thought I'd swallow my own tongue. I swallowed hard. "Are the dumplings already made?" "Yes. I made them tonight," he said. "While you were out drinking with Evan Cole." "..." I turned my head suspiciously to look at him. A strange thought occurred to me. When Andrew talked about Evan, he sounded... less like a machine. If I didn't know him better, I would almost think he was jealous. Jealous over me. But how could that be possible? The machine spoke again. "Is something wrong?" "Nothing." I pushed the chaotic thoughts from my mind. But his comment had successfully killed my appetite. I didn't dare mention that I wanted to eat the dumplings now. I was afraid he'd just come back with another zinger like, Didn't Evan Cole feed you dumplings while you were drinking? 3 I woke up late the next morning. Andrew had already packed the beef dumplings into an insulated container for me. He pressed a freshly bottled thermos of warm soy milk into my hands and said a quiet goodbye. Watching his retreating back, it struck me that, despite his robotic personality, he really did take good care of me. I ate breakfast at my desk. Just as I was about to start working, a message from Nancy popped up. Nancy: I heard Evan Cole is back! Me: I know. I had a drink with him last night. Nancy: HOLY SHIT! Nancy: You work fast! Nancy: Babe, don't forget you're a married woman now. You need to be careful about being seen with him. Me: ... This was a constant source of frustration for me. I hadn't dated anyone in the years since Evan and I broke up, simply because I hadn't wanted to. But somehow, the rumor mill had twisted that into me being unable to get over him. I'd tried to explain, but it only made things worse. Even my best friend, Nancy, thought I was just being stubborn. I called her directly. "I've explained this a million times. I have zero feelings for him." "Okay, okay," she said, easily placated. Then she added, "Just be careful Andrew doesn't find out about you drinking with Evan." "..." "He already knows." Nancy gasped. "NO WAY!" Talking about Evan was exhausting, but talking about Andrew's very un-robotic behavior last night was suddenly fascinating. I gave her a dramatic, play-by-play account of his bizarre reaction, heavily emphasizing the fact that he'd handed me a divorce agreement over it. "Isn't his perfectionism a little... extreme?" Nancy saw it differently. "I don't know, it kind of sounds like he's trying to keep you." "What?" "Think about it. He hands you a divorce agreement, and now you won't go near Evan Cole again, right?" "What if I had actually signed it?" "Would you have?" "..." No. Setting aside the complex ties between our families, on a purely practical level, I had no desire to divorce a catch like Andrew Osment. "The god is finally descending from Olympus!" Nancy declared dramatically. I rolled my eyes at her theatrics. "More like the super-android is finally showing signs of life." "You should test him," she said, her voice buzzing with excitement. "See if it's just a system malfunction or if he's actually turning into a real boy." "How do I do that?" Her next words were heavy with insinuation. "Well, it is Friday..." 4 Nancy's suggestion was simple, and it made my face burn. All I had to do was press Andrew for one more round. His "three times on a Friday" rule was as reliable as clockwork. If I could get him to break that pattern, to go for a fourth, wouldn't that prove his programming had been altered? I hesitated, debated, and ultimately decided to do nothing. Finally, the time came. We were in bed. He leaned over me, our eyes meeting for a few seconds before he reached for the silk scarf on the nightstand. He gently covered my eyes, tying it in a soft knot behind my head. Normally, I never questioned it. I just assumed it was part of his routine. But tonight, with Nancy's words buzzing in my mind, I spoke up. "Why do you always cover my eyes?" Andrew didn't answer. He just lowered his head and kissed me. The wet, warm pressure of his lips pulled at my thoughts, and soon, the question of the blindfold faded from my mind. He held my entire world in his hands, lifting me up, setting me down, each movement a perfect, calculated wave that made my heart clench and release. When the third time was over, he gently removed the sweat-dampened scarf. I looked up into his eyes, and they were as calm and placid as a still lake. Even after seeing that look a hundred times, I couldn't help but grit my teeth. How? How could he look so completely detached, so clinical, after something like this? He stroked my cheek, a gesture meant to soothe, and started to pull away— That's when a spark of defiance lit inside me. I quickly hooked my legs around his waist, catching him off guard. He lurched forward, his body falling heavily against mine. I wrapped my arms around his neck, and under his startled gaze, I purred, "Can we go again?" 5 Andrew clearly hadn't expected that. He froze for a few seconds. His gaze slid from my eyes, to my lips, down to my collarbone, and finally settled... somewhere lower. His Adam's apple bobbed sharply. He turned his head away and said stiffly, "No." "Why not?" The question was reflexive. I didn't need to ask if he was capable. The moment I'd pulled him back against me, I knew he was more than capable. If he could, why say no? He wouldn't look at me. "Too much... isn't good for your body." It was an answer I'd never considered. While scientifically sound, being so relentlessly logical took all the fun out of everything. I clung to him, refusing to let him go. "But what if I want to?" Andrew turned back, his eyes troubled. For the first time, I could clearly see the struggle warring within them. After a long moment, his resolve hardened. "No." He reached out and gently smoothed my brow. "Just bear with it..." I had no intention of bearing anything. I pulled his head down and kissed him, my lips finding his with unerring accuracy. I was going to find out, once and for all, if this self-disciplined machine could truly lose control.
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