The coffee maker whistled punctually, as if it didn't care that the world was about to change.
That sound—everyday, banal—now carried a new weight.
A chime in the routine.
An echo of what was... and of what is about to cease to be.
Iker, or Gabriel, or whatever now defined that entity in transition, stood by the marble countertop, watching the steam dance over the teapot as if hypnotized.
His hands moved on their own: they knew exactly where the cups were, how to operate the dispenser, and even how much sugar to add.
Muscle memory, yes.
But there was more to it than that.
That body... wasn't his.
But every day, it felt less foreign.
The familiarity hurt.
"Are you just going to stand there?" a voice said.
Alma.
She was sitting at the bar, holding a steaming mug.
She was wearing a simple robe and had her hair tied back in a messy bun. Her eyes, without makeup, revealed a weariness deeper than her physical fatigue.
She wasn't looking at him with hatred, but neither was she looking at him with affection. She was looking at him with... vigilance. Like someone observing a dormant volcano, suspecting it might yet erupt.
"Good morning," Iker said.
But his voice wasn't his usual one. It sounded lower. More tempered.
More human.
She frowned. Surprised. Almost bewildered.
"So what now? Have you come to apologize for last night, or is this just another of your existential phases?"
Gabriel didn't know what "last night" meant. The system hadn't yet synchronized all of the original Iker's emotional memories. But something in his intuition told him that responding with an excuse would be the worst thing to do.
So he did the unthinkable.
"I don't remember what I did last night," she said honestly. "But if I hurt you... I'm sorry."
Silence spread through the kitchen like a thick cloud.
Alma narrowed her eyes, a mixture of suspicion and something she didn't want to admit: curiosity.
"You? Asking for forgiveness?" she said slowly. "What kind of joke is this?"
Iker lowered his gaze.
And for the first time, he sat across from her.
Not his body.
Him.
The consciousness that now inhabited him.
"I don't know how to explain it," he said. "But I'm... trying to fix things."
He placed his cup on the counter with a soft tap. It wasn't a gesture of aggression. It was an anchor. As if he were reassuring himself that what he was doing was real.
Alma took a deep breath. As if she wanted to contain something she'd held in for too long.
"Why now?" she asked. "Why just when I'd already decided to stop waiting for you?"
He held her gaze for a few seconds. Not with arrogance. With a serenity that didn't fit with the version of him she remembered.
"Because if I realize it now... maybe it's not too late yet."
Alma froze. The muscles in her face flickered with disbelief, nostalgia, and fear.
Afraid to believe him.
Afraid to get her hopes up again.
"The children asked about you yesterday," she said, lowering her voice.
Iker felt a pressure in his chest. He tried to answer, but couldn't.
Not out of cowardice.
But because he didn't know if he had the right to speak as a father when he didn't even know the stories they liked.
Then the system spoke. Not with words. With sensations. A binary whisper in the back of his mind.
📈 Emotional Codex – Empathic trajectory detected.
Family unit in the process of reconnection.
Recommendation: Maintain emotional protocol. Priority: emotional stability before project execution.
✦ Remember: the first ecosystem is human.
Alma stood up slowly. She placed the cup on the table.
She looked at him one last time, differently.
Not with forgiveness. But perhaps… paused.
"You have an appointment with the pediatrician at eleven.
If you really want to be there, I'll wait for you at ten in the garage."
And she left.
Iker was left alone, with the steam dissipating in front of him.
The coffee was lukewarm.
But for the first time… it didn't taste bitter.
That night, in his room, with the curtains closed and the system in active mode, a bright notification was projected on the desk.
🧠 Emotional state: Stable
Family unit: Early reconnection in progress.
✦ Suggestion: Postpone implementation of sensitive technologies. The true ecosystem begins at home.
Gabriel smiled.
Perhaps, for the first time in his life—or in his new life—he wasn't in a rush to build an empire.
First… he needed to rebuild a family.