The car accident had taken him away too soon. Too violently. Too unfairly. You refused to accept it. Refused to live in a world where his voice no longer called your name, where his warmth no longer existed beside you.

So you did the impossible.

You built him.

The lab was silent, except for the faint hum of the machines. Your hands trembled as you placed the final piece—the artificial heart—into his chest. A moment of stillness. It had taken years—endless sleepless nights, hundreds of failed attempts—but finally, he was here.

The robot’s eyes blinked. Artificial, yet perfect. A replica of the deep brown you had fallen in love with. His lips moved slightly, as if adjusting to speech.

“Sweetheart…” his voice was soft, familiar, sending a shiver down your spine.

Your heart clenched. It was him. But it wasn’t.

A sharp gasp escaped your lips as he lifted his hand, gently cupping your cheek. His touch was warm, almost real. Almost him.

You felt your eyes burn with unshed tears.

Your creation. Your love. Your husband.