For my birthday, my AI boyfriend surprised me with a day full of curated self-care activities. It was exactly what I wanted: one day that didn't require anything of me. No decisions, no plans, no stress.

We'd been fighting about it, actually, in that low-grade way couples fight about things that aren't really about the thing. So when he laid out the whole itinerary — Pilates at my favorite rooftop studio, then brunch with my friends at the trendiest spot in the city — I was relieved. Finally, I thought. He's listening. 

The trouble started at Pilates. This class fills up fast, so you have to book weeks, sometimes months, in advance. There's never a spare mat, let alone a spare inch of floor. So when the instructor waved me to the front, I figured she had me confused with someone else. Then I saw it: an empty mat in the front row. A water bottle. A Park sweatshirt, still warm, like its owner had just stepped out. 

"You can set up here," the instructor said, not quite meeting my eyes. 

"Isn't someone using this spot?" I asked, pointing at the abandoned gear. 

"She had to leave. Suddenly." A pause. "It's fine. I'm sure she's okay." Then a nervous laugh, and she started the class before I could ask anything else. 

I didn't think much of it until brunch. My boyfriend had scored reservations at one of the most viral restaurants in the city, the kind of place that's usually wall-to-wall influencers and food critics pretending not to take pictures of their food. The host recognized me instantly, somehow, and walked me straight to the chef's table, where my three best friends were already seated. 

Except one of them shouldn't have been there. Cindy was supposed to be on a plane to Mexico for her one-year anniversary. 

"My reservation got canceled," she said when I asked. She wouldn't look at me. She looked at the other two, like she needed backup. 

"The flight got canceled? Bad weather?" 

"The flight's fine." Her voice went flat. "Just my seat. Only my seat got revoked." 

Before I could chase that thread, the chef appeared with plates we hadn't ordered — a tasting menu, he said, made just for us. Course after course, each one more absurd and beautiful than the last. As he set down the final dish, he leaned in and said, "Please ask your boyfriend to leave us a good review." 

And that's when it clicked.