I Wrote Seven Years Of Letters Answered By AI Chapter 05

I Wrote Seven Years Of Letters Answered By AI Chapter 05

When I woke up, I was in a completely unfamiliar city, heavy hotel curtains filtering only a thin strip of daylight into the room.

I lay back against the mattress staring at the ceiling, my mind blank and still.

By all old routines, this should’ve been the morning after our seven-year anniversary; I’d normally be wiping mugs behind the café counter, waiting for a belated apology from Carter to pop up in my inbox.

But my email was gone, my shop sold, my old phone SIM card destroyed.

I rolled onto my side, the soft pillow and warm duvet wrapping around me, a weightless ease settling over my body that still felt surreal.

My phone had powered off overnight, and when I restarted it, it vibrated harshly against my palm.

My old number was long disconnected, but I logged back into Instagram using the hotel Wi-Fi. My message feed exploded with unread notifications.

Carter’s chat thread held over sixty unread messages. The earliest timestamp read nine twelve PM the night before.

[Iris, where are you?]

Nine fifteen PM: [Where’s all your stuff? Where did you move to?]

Nine twenty PM: [Call me back right now.]

After nine thirty PM, his tone curdled into rage.

[Did you delete your email? Did you wipe my research data?]

[Iris, do you realize how critical that model is to my entire research project?]

[Have you lost your mind?]

[Pick up the phone. Where are you hiding?]

One AM: [Iris, we need to talk this out.]

Three AM: [Please just send me a reply.]

I scrolled slowly through every message, sixty notifications laying bare Carter’s spiral from unbridled fury to desperate panic.

Further down, there were voice messages from his mother. The first was mild, almost placating. “Iris, Carter said you two had a little spat. Where are you? Come home so you can sort this out properly.”

The second carried a sharp undercurrent of blame.

“Running off without a word like this must have Carter sick with worry.”

The third bordered on outright accusation.

“Iris, Carter told me you erased his research data? That’s his professional livelihood—how could you be so selfish and reckless?”

I finished listening to the last voice note and locked my phone screen shut.

Even after everything, Carter’s top priority wasn’t tracking down my whereabouts or worrying if I was safe. He only cared that I’d destroyed the tool he’d used to fake years of devotion to me.

I washed my face and headed downstairs for breakfast, eating alone at the hotel breakfast buffet. They served tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwich platters laid out in a quiet corner.

I sipped my soup slowly, and it hit me that for seven years, I’d survived off rushed meals at my coffee shop counter.

Carter never ate breakfast, so I’d skipped it too to match his schedule.

The warm soup settled soft in my empty stomach, a quiet, steady comfort I hadn’t felt in years.

Midway through my meal, a new Instagram notification popped up. Carter had messaged me from one of our friends he’d gotten access to.

[Your old line’s disconnected, but I know you’re reading these Instagram messages. Tell me exactly where you are this instant, and I’ll come get you and bring you home. I can overlook the data incident as long as you come back and give me a proper explanation.]

I huffed a quiet laugh staring at that final line.

Overlook it.

What incredible mercy.

I’d fed seven years of raw, genuine emotion into his AI as training material, yet he acted as though I’d vandalized his private property.

I didn’t draft a single reply. I blocked the account instantly.

After finishing the last spoonful of soup, I pulled out my laptop, and started submitting job applications one after another.