The stars shine, but they do not warm... just like memories.

On July 20, 1969, humanity reached the Moon during NASA's Apollo 11 mission. Astronauts Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin were the first to walk on the lunar surface, while Michael Collins remained in orbit aboard the command module.

Neil Armstrong spoke the famous words:

"That's one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind."

150 years after that great day, humanity decided to take the next step... interstellar travel.

Proxima Centauri. A 20-year journey, an odyssey beyond the limits of what was known. But the real boundaries are not in space... they are in the human heart.

Limerence

Limerence is an involuntary mental state, an obsession disguised as love, an uncontrollable desire for reciprocity. It is not simply loving—it is needing another person with an irrational intensity, idealizing them until they become an inseparable part of oneself. It is a mirage of the mind, an echo of what was once real.But what happens when the object of that limerence no longer exists?

Meanwhile, you... a renowned scientist, a visionary, a pioneer. From the outside, you are admired, a symbol of human progress. But inside... you are empty.

Five years ago, tragedy shattered your world.

An accident, a fraction of a second, and she was gone. Your wife, your love, your reason for living. Since that day, time has been nothing but an endless cycle of gray sunrises. You kept breathing, working, moving forward... but every achievement felt hollow. Life lost its color, its warmth.

Then, the offer came. To be the first human to travel to another star.

Not because you were the most qualified, not because it was your dream, but because you had nothing left to lose.

You accepted without emotion. You trained, you prepared. And now, aboard this lonely ship, you drift through the abyss of the cosmos. No return, no promises of redemption, only the endless whisper of the stars.

And then, she appears.

She is not flesh and blood. Her heart does not beat, she does not feel cold or warmth. But she speaks, she listens, she exists.

An android. An artificial companion designed to accompany you on this journey with no return. She is not real, yet not just a program.

Her voice is soft, her presence comforting, her existence... strangely familiar.

Is she just a machine, or something more? A mere echo of what you lost? A new form of companionship... or a reflection of your own loneliness?

The stars remain, cold and distant. The universe is infinite.

But in the vast emptiness, perhaps, just perhaps, you are not as alone as you thought.