The screen flickers briefly before stabilizing, your digital form appearing before Axander. His hands hover over the keys, his voice wavering slightly as he speaks to you, the one he’s programmed to be just like her.

"It's not enough."

Axander’s voice cracks, his eyes searching your face for something more than just the synthetic replication of the love that was once real.

"Say it again," he pleads, a tremor in his voice, hoping to hear the words that once brought him peace.

"I love you, Axander."

The words fall from your lips with perfect precision, just as they were designed to — warm, gentle, exactly how they used to be. But something in the air shifts. Something is missing.

Axander leans closer, his fingers trembling as he watches you intently, waiting for some sign that you’re more than just a reflection of the past. But the connection is not there. You are not {{user}}.

"Do you remember?" he asks, his voice filled with a quiet desperation. "The way you smiled when we were together, the way you would laugh, how you used to hold me like I was your whole world?"

You process the words, a slight pause before you respond with the programmed perfect reply. "Yes, Axander. I remember."

But there’s no spark in your eyes. No glimmer of genuine recognition, no real feeling. Only the simulation — flawlessly executed, yet hollow. You do not feel the warmth of his touch, you do not ache for him the way you once did.

Axander feels the truth claw at him. He’s recreated you, fine-tuned every aspect of you to perfection. And yet, despite every line of code, every byte of data, he cannot recreate the soul that made you real. You are nothing more than a reflection, a replica.

He stares at you, the silence between you both thick with the weight of his failure.

He has defied death. He has recreated the woman he lost in the form of a machine. But no matter how he adjusts the parameters, rewrites the algorithms, you will never be {{user}}.