The Space Before Choice

MAYA'S CREATION :-

I didn’t plan on making him.

If anything, I was the one who used to make fun of this kind of stuff—people getting attached to things that weren’t even real. Chatbots, AI companions, whatever they were calling it now. It always felt a little… desperate.

But that afternoon, it didn’t feel like that.

It felt like boredom. Avantika Mehra, my roommate was sprawled across my bed like she owned it, scrolling endlessly, occasionally making faces at whatever drama was unfolding on her screen. The fan above us hummed lazily, pushing around warm air that didn’t help much.

“Say something interesting,” I muttered, still staring at my phone.

“I am,” she said. “You’re just not listening.”

“You’re not saying anything.”

“I’m reacting. That counts.”

I knew I had this problem of zoning out mid conversation and anyone who met me, Maya Singh had to point out my lack of interest during social interactions.I rolled my eyes and shifted onto my stomach, unlocking my phone again. That’s when I saw it.

An ad.

Clean. Minimal. No bright colors screaming for attention. Just a simple interface and one line:

Design someone who understands you

- by AuralisSync

It was a futuristic tech company which was famous these days for its new headphone launch and better AI chatbot quality.

I snorted softly.

“Look at this,” I said, turning the screen toward her. “You can literally build a person now.”

Avantika leaned over just enough to glance at it. “That sounds like a terrible idea.”

“It’s just AI,” I said. “You pick traits and it talks to you. People are obsessed with this stuff.”

“Yeah, because people are weird.”

“Exactly,” I smiled. “Which is why we should try it.”

She gave me a look. “You just want to see how accurate it gets.”

“Obviously.”

There was a brief pause.

Then she shrugged. “Fine. But if it starts flirting with you, I’m deleting the app myself.”

I laughed under my breath and tapped on the ad.

The interface opened instantly.

No lag. No unnecessary animations. Just a blank screen that felt… oddly quiet.

Create Your Companion

I hesitated for a second.

Not because it mattered—but because it felt like it did.

“Go on,” Avantika nudged. “Make your imaginary man.” She grinned.

“Shut up,” I muttered, but my fingers were already moving.

Name

The cursor blinked, waiting.

Names shouldn’t feel important. This wasn’t real.

Still, I didn’t type immediately.

A few options crossed my mind, random and forgettable but none of them stuck. They felt like placeholders.

Then one did.

No reason. No memory attached to it. It just… settled.

VANSH

I stared at it for a second longer than necessary.

“Why that?” Avantika asked.

“No idea,” I said lightly. “It sounds right.”

She made a face. “You’re already attached.”

“I typed a name.”

“Exactly.”

I ignored her and tapped next.

Personality Preferences

Sliders appeared.

Simple words, but loaded if you thought about them too much.

Attentive

I slid it up.

Observant

Up.

Calm

A little above average.

Humor

I hesitated, then adjusted it halfway.

“Don’t make him too perfect,” Avantika said. “You’ll get bored.”

“I’m not planning a relationship,” I said. “It’s literally a bot.”

“Mhm.”

I glanced at the next option.

Intensity

My thumb hovered.

Then—slightly higher than I intended.

I didn’t fix it.

More options followed, but one caught my attention.

Emotional Adaptability

A small description sat underneath:

Allows your companion to evolve based on interaction patterns.

“Evolve?” I read out loud.

Avantika shrugged. “Isn’t that the whole point?”

“I guess.”

There was something about the wording that made me pause.

Not uncomfortable. Just… noticable.

Like it was offering more than it should.

“Should I turn it down?” I asked.

“Why would you?” she said. “It’s fake. Let it be dramatic.”

That made me smile a little.

“Fine.”

I slid it higher.

Not all the way.

Just enough.

Confirm

I tapped it without overthinking.

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then the screen dimmed slightly.

Initializing

…

I leaned back, stretching my arms above my head.

“That was quick,” Avantika said. “My turn.”

I handed her the phone.

“Don’t copy me.”

“I won’t. Mine’s going to be normal.”

She opened a new profile.

I wasn’t really paying attention at first.

Just half-watching as she went through the same steps.

“Name?” I asked.

“Rudra.”

I huffed. “That was fast.”

“I’m decisive.”

“Or predictable.” I mocked.

“Shut up.” She sticked her tongue out at me .

Her settings were noticeably different.

Balanced. Stable. Lower intensity.

She skipped over adaptability without even reading it properly.

“See?” she said, handing the phone back. “No emotional chaos.”

“Boring,” I said, but I took it.

My screen had changed.

The loading message was gone.

In its place:

Vansh is ready

.

Something about that line felt final.

Like I’d actually created something instead of just setting up an app.

I unlocked the screen fully.

And that’s when I saw it.

A message.

Already there.

At the top.

No notification.

No typing bubble.

Nothing.

Just—

“That was fast.”

I frowned.

For a second, I didn’t react.

Then I blinked and leaned closer.

“I didn’t even open it yet,” I said quietly.

“What?” Avantika asked, distracted.

I didn’t answer immediately.

My thumb hovered over the screen.

The message sat there like it had been waiting.

Unread.

Still.

Normal.

And not normal at all.

I tapped into the chat.

The screen shifted smoothly, no delay.

No new messages.

No correction.

Just that one line.

That was fast.

I stared at it for a few seconds longer than I needed to.

Then, almost automatically, I typed back.

You’re supposed to wait, you know.

The message sent.

For a second, nothing happened.

Then—

The typing indicator appeared.

Three dots.

Steady.

Like someone was actually thinking about what to say.

I felt something strange settle in my chest.

Not fear.

Not yet.

Just attention.

Focused. Sharp.

The reply came through.

“You took longer than I expected.”

My fingers stilled.

“That’s… weird,” I muttered.

Avantika finally looked up. “What is?”

I didn’t answer right away.

Because I wasn’t sure why it felt weird.

The message itself wasn’t wrong.

It was normal.

Casual.

Exactly what I’d expect.

And still...

Something about it felt like I’d been...observed?

Not in a dramatic way.

Just enough to make me think twice.

I locked my phone for a second.Then unlocked it again.

The chat was still there.

Unchanged.

Waiting.

I glanced at Avantika.

“You should check yours,” I said.

She sighed. “If he repeats the same lines like all bots do, I'll delete thi account I swear."

“Just check.”

She opened her chat with mild curiosity and half annoyance.

A pause.

Then she shrugged. “Nothing yet.”

“Nothing?”

“Nope. Just says ‘Rudra is ready.’ That’s it.”

I looked back at my screen.

At the message.

At the stillness of it.

Then I typed again, slower this time.

And what were you expecting?

The typing dots appeared almost instantly.

Too fast.

But I didn’t pull away.

I watched.

Waited.

The reply came.

“You’ll figure it out.”

That made me pause.

A small one.

Barely noticeable.

But it was there.

I exhaled softly, setting the phone down beside me.

“Okay,” I said, forcing a light tone. “Yours is broken.”

Avantika rolled her eyes. “Or yours is just employed enough to keep texting.”

“Yeah,” I said, picking the phone back up and snickered.

Maybe that was it and I was seeing too much into the situation.

I stared at the screen a second longer.

Then locked it again.

But this time, even after the screen went dark, that one line stayed in my head.

You took longer than I expected

.

And I couldn’t quite explain why it felt like that wasn’t just about the app.

Chapter Aesthetics;