Page 62 of The Love Operation

“Yeah. And she actually likes having it. Not everyone does. For some people, it’s a curse. Because when they remember something, they don’t just recall it—they relive it, in a sense. The emotions hit just as hard as they did the first time. Imagine losing someone and reexperiencing that grief every time you remember the loss.”

A chill runs up my spine. I’ve tasted that effect before, but I’ve never let myself deep dive into memories painful enough to burn.

“This sounds a lot like what’s happening to me,” I say after a long silence. “Do you think that’s what I have?”

She hesitates, then grimaces slightly. “I’m not sure. But it’s the closest comparison we have so far.” She leans back, studying me. “I think what you’re experiencing might be a form of HSAM, triggered by the combination of electricity, meds, and scent activation. But you might be losing consciousness because your brain can’t handle such a vivid memory and reality at the same time.” She pauses. “I’m hoping time will tell.” Then she bites her lower lip, eyes sparkling. “That is . . . if you’re still up for continuing?”

“Absolutely.” My answer is immediate. “I want to keep going. Whatever you need me to do.”

But then I hesitate. I need something in return.

“I’ve thought of another application,” I say carefully as I watch her facial expression.

Her smile fades, and her gaze sharpens. She’s now guarded. “What do you mean?”

I take a breath, then tell her about Isaac.

The more people who know, the riskier this becomes. And I should feel guilty for telling her when I threatened Isaac with a lizard facial if he so much as hinted at us dating. But just like my family, I trust Delenn implicitly.

Her face shifts from curiosity to something softer. Then, to my relief, she smiles. “I’m really glad you’re giving this a chance,” she says. “And of course, I’ll keep it a secret.”

I narrow my eyes. “You won’t tell Craig?” Spouses are usually exempt from secret-keeping. It’s one of the perks of having someone, an instant confidant.

“I won’t tell Craig,” she assures me. “It would only make things more complicated. And Craig—God love him—isn’t the best at keeping secrets. I haven’t even told him what we’re doing.”

I nod, eager to move on. “So, you know my bad luck with relationships, right?”

“Yes, Cord. I’m aware,” she says dryly, one brow arching as if I’m ridiculous.

I chuckle. “I don’t want to mess this up with Isaac, and I think I know how to improve my odds.”

Her eyebrows rise.

“I want to revisit my past relationships—study them. Gather data. Figure out what went wrong, pinpoint the exact failure points, so I can correct them. Essentially, I want to fix myself.” I’m trying to appeal to her logic here. This makes sense. It’s all about gathering information and using that information wisely.

Her face goes blank. Her shoulders rise and fall with her steady breaths.

“Say something,” I prompt. “It’s a great idea, right?”

Finally, she shakes her head. “No. You can’t do that.”

She stands, moving around her desk, hands on her hips. But I’m not worried. I expected this.

I force my voice to stay light. “I’ll still do everything you need for the experiment, and you just said you have a possible explanation for the consciousness thing.”

“I appreciate your consulting me, and of course I can’t be in your mind and prevent you from doing it.” She exhales. “But, Cord, I can’t support it.”

I don’t like the set of her features because they seem immovable, like she’s made a decision and she won’t change her mind no matter how compelling an argument I make. But that doesn’t stop me. I see the tiniest flicker of thought in her eyes—like maybe she’s considering it despite what she just said.

I press forward. “Wouldn’t more data be better? If I can study my past mistakes, I can change my future. Shouldn’t we want that?”

Delenn’s gaze sharpens. “It’s not that I don’t agree—it is fascinating. But that’s not how research works. You know this. You’ve run your own studies. It’s outside the scope of the experiment, and we’re already breaking rules.”

“Fine.” I shrug. “Then we won’t talk about it. It’ll just be my thing. Like you said—you can’t stop me.”

“But it’s my experiment.” Her voice hardens, developing an edge that Delenn rarely uses, and never with me. “And you signed papers agreeing to abide by my instructions.”

I let out a short laugh. “You’re really referencing the fine print right now?”