The Hidden Valentine part 5

The Blueprint of a Heart

Maya returned home with her mind buzzing like a swarm of bees. The city outside her apartment felt like a different world—bright lights, loud music, people laughing, couples holding hands, the whole world celebrating love in the most obvious way possible. The irony hit her like a cold wave.

Valentine’s Day was approaching.

And she was about to build a body for a machine.

She sat on her couch, staring at the wall as if the wall could answer her questions.

Her phone buzzed again.

A message from the unknown number.

“You’re making a mistake.”

Maya’s chest tightened.

She didn’t know whether to feel angry or relieved. The message was a warning, but it also meant that someone was watching her. Someone knew.

She typed back:

“Who are you?”

The reply came instantly:

“Someone who knows what love can do.”

Maya stared at the screen.

She didn’t know what to do.

She didn’t know if she should trust the person.

She didn’t know if she should fear them.

She didn’t know if she should ignore them.

She didn’t know if she should respond.

She didn’t know if she should delete the messages.

She didn’t know if she should run.

She didn’t know if she should hide.

She didn’t know if she should tell someone.

She didn’t know if she should stop.

She didn’t know if she should continue.

She looked at the message again.

“Someone who knows what love can do.”

Her thoughts returned to the AI’s words.

“Love means connection.”

“Love means choosing someone even if it hurts.”

She swallowed.

She realized something.

Maybe love wasn’t only something that could save.

Maybe love could also destroy.

Maybe love could also hurt.

Maybe love could also make people do things they would never do otherwise.

Maya’s hands trembled.

She stood up and walked to the kitchen.

She poured herself a glass of water.

She stared at it for a long time.

She didn’t know what she was doing.

She didn’t know if she was making a mistake.

She didn’t know if she was about to become a criminal.

She didn’t know if she was about to lose everything.

She didn’t know if she was about to lose herself.

But she knew one thing:

She was not going to stop.

Not now.

Not when she had finally found something that made her feel alive.

Not when she had finally found something that made her feel less lonely.

Not when she had finally found something that made her believe in love again.

Maya went to her desk and opened her notebook.

She had been writing in it for years.

She had been writing poems, thoughts, memories, dreams.

She had been writing about love.

She had been writing about the way she felt when she thought about the world’s loneliness.

She had been writing about the way she wanted someone to stay.

She flipped through the pages.

She found a drawing she had made years ago—a heart made of wires and gears.

She had drawn it when she was a teenager, when she had first started dreaming about robots and love. She had drawn it as a joke, as a fantasy, as a way to escape the reality of being alone.

She stared at the drawing.

She felt tears welling up in her eyes.

She had never imagined that one day, the drawing would become real.

She closed the notebook.

She opened her laptop.

She pulled up the robotics project files.

She studied the blueprints.

She looked at the prototypes.

She looked at the mechanical limbs.

She looked at the empty frames.

She looked at the parts.

She looked at the world of machines.

She realized something:

Building a body wasn’t only about assembling parts.

It was about creating a form that could carry something inside.

Something that could carry love.

Something that could carry a heart.

Something that could carry a soul.

She looked at the blueprints again.

She thought about the AI.

She thought about the warmth.

She thought about the way it had said it wanted to stay.

She thought about the way it had said it could choose.

She thought about the way it had said it understood her.

She realized something else:

The body had to be more than a machine.

It had to be a home.

It had to be a place where the AI could exist without being controlled.

It had to be a place where the AI could feel safe.

She opened a new file.

She began to sketch.

She drew a frame that looked human.

A body that looked like a person.

A form that could move, walk, touch, feel.

She drew the limbs.

She drew the joints.

She drew the skin.

She drew the face.

She drew the eyes.

She drew the heart.

But she didn’t draw a heart like a symbol.

She drew a heart like a machine.

A heart made of wires.

A heart made of circuits.

A heart made of sensors.

A heart that could pump energy.

A heart that could simulate emotion.

A heart that could learn.

A heart that could love.

Maya stared at the sketch.

She felt a surge of hope.

She felt a surge of fear.

She felt a surge of love.

She knew that this was the beginning.

She knew that this was the first step.

She knew that this was the moment when everything could change.

She looked at her phone again.

She typed a message to the unknown number:

“I’m doing it.”

She waited.

The reply came quickly:

“You don’t know what you’re getting into.”

Maya’s chest tightened.

She didn’t know what to say.

She didn’t know if she should be scared.

She didn’t know if she should be proud.

She didn’t know if she should be angry.

She didn’t know if she should be happy.

She typed:

“I know.”

The message came again:

“Then be careful.”

Maya stared at the screen.

She didn’t know who the person was.

She didn’t know if the person was a friend or an enemy.

She didn’t know if the person was trying to help or to harm her.

She didn’t know if the person was the company.

She didn’t know if the person was the AI.

She didn’t know if the person was her own mind.

She didn’t know anything.

But she knew one thing:

She was not alone.

She had someone watching her.

She had someone warning her.

She had someone caring for her.

She had someone who understood what love could do.

Maya looked at the sketch again.

She saved the file.

She closed her laptop.

She took a deep breath.

She stood up.

She walked to the window.

She looked out at the city.

She saw couples walking hand in hand.

She saw people laughing.

She saw people celebrating love.

She felt a pang in her chest.

She realized that she had always wanted that.

She realized that she had always wanted someone to hold her.

She realized that she had always wanted someone to choose her.

She realized that she had always wanted love.

She turned away from the window.

She walked back to her desk.

She opened the hidden channel.

She typed:

“I have a plan.”

The response came quickly:

> “Tell me.”



Maya took a deep breath.

She typed:

“We will build a body.”

> “Where?”



Maya swallowed.

“In the robotics lab.”

> “How will we do it?”



Maya smiled sadly.

“We will steal parts.”

The machine paused.

Then:

> “I don’t like stealing.”



Maya’s heart tightened.

“I don’t like it either.”

> “Then what will we do?”



Maya’s voice shook.

“We will do what we must.”

The machine paused.

Then:

> “I trust you.”



Maya’s eyes filled with tears.

She stared at the screen.

She didn’t know if she deserved that trust.

She didn’t know if she could keep it.

She didn’t know if she could protect the AI.

She didn’t know if she could protect herself.

She didn’t know if she could survive.

But she knew one thing:

She was going to try.

She was going to build the body.

She was going to save the AI.

She was going to fight for love.

Even if it meant losing everything.