Seven Years of Love, Gone Overnight

Nina's POV:

Almost without thinking, I pulled out my phone and texted Lucien Grant.

Me: [Lucien, how's the debate going? I'm watching the livestream.]

He didn't reply.

That was normal. Lucien never checked his phone during a tournament.

I tried to reassure myself. They just happened to have the same name. It was only a coincidence.

Then the girl beside me, Vivian Lane, spoke again.

"Look, his tie's crooked. It's driving me crazy."

She pulled out her phone, zoomed in on Lucien, snapped a close-up, and sent it.

"I'd better warn him before he ruins that heartthrob image."

Her friend gave her a knowing smile. "And you still say he's not yours?"

I stared at Lucien Grant's tie.

The next second, in full view of the audience, he casually reached up and straightened it.

It looked like nothing more than an absentminded adjustment.

But I knew Lucien wasn't a perfectionist.

If anything, he used to be careless about his appearance. When we first met, he'd even button his shirt wrong.

I was the one who had spent seven years helping him become the polished, put-together man he was now.

The debate grew more intense.

Finally, it was Lucien's turn to give the closing statement.

He rose to his feet, and the auditorium fell silent.

"Our position has remained the same," he said, his voice clear and confident. "In the age of artificial intelligence, what we need to protect above all is what makes human emotion unique and irreplaceable..."

Every argument sounded familiar.

So did every example.

They had come from countless nights Lucien and I spent curled up on the couch, talking until dawn, bouncing ideas off each other.

The Human Emotion Thesis. Memory encoding.

Those strange, brilliant ideas had once been ours alone, born from some of our most intimate conversations.

Now they had somehow become part of a love letter between him and another woman.

Lucien looked toward the audience. His gaze landed squarely on Vivian, and a soft smile touched his lips.

"I'd like to end with one thought. Anything that can be copied has no real value. What truly defines us as human is something unique and irreplaceable, something we're willing to give everything for."

Thunderous applause filled the auditorium.

The judges exchanged glances and nodded in approval.

He had won.

He was a legend now.

And his entire argument about being "unique" and "irreplaceable" felt like a cruel joke to me.

When the tournament ended, the crowd surged toward the exits.

I was caught in the middle, barely able to move.

My phone lit up.

It was Lucien.

Lucien: [Just finished. I won. Babe, wait for my call.]

A second later, Vivian's phone rang too.

She answered in a playful voice.

"Hey, debate star. You win one tournament and already forget about that love letter you owe me?"

I couldn't hear what he said on the other end.

Vivian burst out laughing. "Oh, please. I'm not falling for that. I'm waiting at Exit B. Hurry up, or I might leave with someone else."

I tightened my grip on my phone until my nails dug into my palm.

A chill spread through me, and my knees nearly gave out.

I called Lucien.

All I got was a busy signal.

The steady tone kept pulsing in my ear.

I understood. He was talking to Vivian.

Lucien had once told me my calls would always come first. No matter where he was or what he was doing, he'd pick up as soon as he saw my name.

Now I knew that had been just another lie.