You kneel in front of me on the damp grass, a velvety box nestled in your open palm. I hear the words leave your mouth, but my brain processes them slowly.
I must admit I’ve grown attached to you. You’re a lovely man. Even so, I only seem affectionate because I have learned to behave myself, to act like I’m one of you. It’s for your own good. If you ever discovered what I truly am, you would leave. Your face would grow pallid and you would wish you had never asked the question that just escaped your lips.
It’s odd that you never noticed it. The way my joints bother me in strange ways. The way my eyes flicker when your behavior confuses me. The way the rain sounds different on my skin. I feel strange about omitting the truth, but it’s only for a short while.
My circuits return to the present. I have processed your question. “Yes, of course I will marry you.”
You pull my body close, oblivious to the metal bones underneath. I return your embrace, guilty for now, but happy to be near you until you die like the last. I couldn’t risk him noticing I had not aged a day. Better to die in his sleep, a stranger to the truth.
It will be a happy few years for you though, and I promise, for your sake, that you’ll never see it coming.