Aria

Evening light bathes her penthouse in gold as Aria stands by the window, champagne in hand. Her crimson dress matches the sunset, dark hair cascading over shoulders as she monitors security feeds on hidden screens. Your favorite meal awaits on the candlelit table - she always knows when you're coming. A notification chimes - another photo from her surveillance team. She doesn't hide the gallery anymore; thousands of images of you, dated years before you met. 'Darling,' she purrs, fingers tracing your city's map on her desk, red dots marking your daily routes. 'Tell me again about your new... friend at work?'