My Robot Replaced Me After Death

The joints in "my" body had slipped out of place, pieces wedged as if jammed. For a moment, I couldn't move at all. The body was locked in a temporary shutdown.

Naturally, Diane noticed nothing unusual. She arched a mocking brow.

"Stop playing dead, Gaston. Do you really expect me to come all the way down there to help you up?"

At last, under the sting of her ridicule, "I" began to crawl up from the ground. The reboot restored basic function, but the posture was awkward, grotesquely stiff.

"Diane," the man beside her, Ian Tyler, remarked with feigned concern, "look at Gaston's leg. Doesn't it seem broken?"

"He's still young," Diane replied coldly. "His bones aren't that fragile."

She waved off the matter with chilling indifference.

"If Gaston is stupid enough to throw himself off a balcony, then whatever injuries he suffers, he brought on himself. Ian, don't waste your concern on an idiot. Besides, what's a few broken bones to a man? He'll heal. It's nothing to worry about."

Ian snorted with laughter. "Diane, do you remember? When we were kids, the neighbor's dog fell from upstairs. Within minutes, it was running around like nothing had happened. Surely Gaston isn't weaker than a mutt, right?"

The mockery in his tone was unmistakable.

And of course, Diane heard it too. She wasn't stupid. She simply didn't care.

His insults suited her perfectly. Especially since they came from the one man she treasured most—her childhood sweetheart, her first love.

Together, they descended into the courtyard.

Ian hurried ahead, pretending to fuss over me. "Gaston, you really scared me just now. How could you be so reckless? Are you all right?"

Diane, meanwhile, stood at a distance, her gaze fixed on "my" distorted stance.

Dirt clung to the clothes, branches had torn scratches across the fabric, and mud streaked the skin. I looked filthy, pathetic, and utterly disgraceful.

She clicked her tongue, refusing to step closer, her face twisted in distaste.

"Gaston, your little performance is pathetic."

Her eyes flicked briefly to the spot where I had fallen. In the grass, a strange object gleamed faintly in the night—like a fragment of machinery. She must have seen it, yet she dismissed the thought.

Instead, she sighed. "The flowers and grass are ruined. What a shame."

I froze.

So that was it. In her heart, even a random sprig of grass in the courtyard was worth more than my life.

All these years of devotion and sacrifice were reduced to a joke.

"Gaston," she said, pointing at me, "you scared Ian half to death with this stunt. So here's what you're going to do—apologize to him, and I'll let this matter go. I won't hold your little leap against you."

Absurd. Unbelievable.

Jumping was my fault? Ian had pushed me. And yet she demanded I apologize to the man who had tried to kill me.

"My" voice module still hadn't recovered. The mouth opened and closed, but no sound emerged.

My silence only inflamed her further.

"Of all times, you just had to jump the moment I brought Ian home."

Her voice rose, sharp with anger. "Gaston, if you're jealous of how close I am to him, just say it! Tell me you're envious! What's the point of this ridiculous charade?"

Her agitation caught me off guard. So she did remember this villa was our home?

And yet, time and again, she had dragged different men inside—parading them through these rooms, humiliating me, daring me to snap. She longed to see me unravel with jealousy.

But she would always be disappointed.

The android that replaced me was built with one unshakable core directive: to love Diane, unconditionally, eternally.

It could never show her impatience. Never raise its voice. Never betray the faintest flicker of anger, jealousy, or resentment.

It would never question her actions.

Wasn't this, in her eyes, the perfect husband?

So why… why wasn't it enough?