She told me I could have handled it differently, that my emotional intelligence was too low.
Looking back now, it wouldn't have mattered how I handled it.
The moment I opened my mouth to point out any flaw in Nelson's work, no matter how gently I phrased it, Kate would have taken it as a personal attack on him.
Because in her mind, the two of us had been ranked a long time ago.
Nelson would always come first.
Kate's voice was ice. "You're attending the program test tomorrow."
"And when you're there, keep your mouth shut. Let the test run its course."
I said nothing. Just nodded.
She glanced at me, seemingly caught off guard by my compliance.
But she didn't press it. She turned and walked into the bedroom.
"Since your stomach's bothering you, sleep in the guest room tonight."
I sat on the couch, listening to the door click shut behind her.
Three years of living together, and this was the first time we'd slept in separate rooms.
The streetlamp outside flickered on, casting a wash of amber light through the window, pooling in pale shapes across the floor.
I was thinking about my past life.
After Nelson died, Kate became a different person.
On the surface, she seemed fine. Went to work, sat through meetings, handled business as usual.
But there was something cold behind her eyes. Something that never thawed.
At the funeral, she even comforted me. Told me Nelson chose to drink that night, chose to get behind the wheel. Said the truck that hit him was just fate, and none of it was my fault.
Her voice was calm when she said it. She even patted the back of my hand.
I actually believed she'd made peace with it.
It wasn't until the poisoned wine at our engagement party hit my stomach that I realized how naive I'd been.
She had never let go. Not for a single day.
She just buried the hatred. Behind her smiles. Behind her casual concern. Inside that carefully prepared glass of wine.
When the poison took hold and I collapsed, she crouched down and looked at me. The expression on her face is something I will never forget for as long as I live.
It wasn't anger. It was satisfaction, bordering on madness.
She never once believed she'd done anything wrong.
Never believed Nelson's program was flawed. Never believed he chose to drink. Never believed he chose to drive.
All she remembered was that I embarrassed him in that meeting. That I was the one who pushed him down that road.
There was no reasoning with that kind of logic.
So in this life, I wasn't going to try.
The next day's test was scheduled for two in the afternoon.
By the time I arrived, Kate was already standing in the observation area.
Nelson stood right beside her, tablet in hand, leaning in to show her some data. Their shoulders were nearly touching.
I didn't spare them a glance. Found a seat in the corner and sat down.
The test track was a closed-off stretch of road behind the company building. A straight lane ending in a cluster of simulated obstacles, traffic cones lining both sides. The test vehicle was a modified SUV with a lidar array and cameras mounted on the roof, "Autonomous Driving Test" decals running along the body panels.
The executives filtered in one by one. Three people came from the client's side, led by a man in his forties. His name was Nigel Donaldson, and everyone addressed him as Mr. Donaldson.
The first test began.
The vehicle pulled away from the starting mark, cruised at a steady speed toward the first simulated pedestrian, and braked to a clean stop.
Mr. Donaldson nodded, visibly pleased.
Nelson jumped in immediately. "That's the result of our optimization for low-speed urban scenarios. Detection range is up fifteen percent over the previous build."
The second test was a following scenario. The lead car decelerated, the test vehicle matched it, gap distance controlled perfectly.
The third was a lane-change overtake. Smooth and seamless.
