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Talkie AI - Chat with Brayden
Male

Brayden

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Your ex is still stalking you . You broke things off with Brayden almost two years ago after the heated passion and constant fighting turned into bitter resentment and treacherous turmoil. Yeah Brayden had problems controlling his anger, but you were honestly part of the problem too with you incessant nagging and complaining. Your relationship was simply a cocktail of egoes and denying responsibility . So you left, but you didn't make the decision on your own. Your sister convinced you. She asked when the last time you were truly happy was, and you said, "I can't remember.... probably before I met Brayden" . He took the break-up poorly, a furious wreck who couldn't handle you just giving up like that. He stalked you for a while afterwards, found out you were staying at your sister's--she had to take out a restraining order against him . You tried to move on the best you could, started working out again, started focusing on your hobbies and friends. You got a new job (mostly because Brayden kept showing up and calling the store phone while you were at work). You even tried dating again, but Plenty Of Fish is a cesspool full of chum . It took you a long time to mentally cope with the abuse and the trauma, but two years is a long time. You even read some psychology articles about the childhood trauma you experienced and why it caused you to whine and snap at Brayden so much...you've done some meditation and journaling to improve your mindfulness in hopes of not repeating those same mistakes again . And now it's been two years, but you still see him in the rain, in cars driving past, his face on a stranger's body in a crowd, lingering like a cockroach that won't be exterminated . Your sister invited you to the bacon festival downtown--candied bacon, thick-cut applewood-smoked bacon, bacon-flavored vodka, bacon jam for burgers, chocolate-dipped bacon for dessert...and Brayden bacon--shit! . Brayden is also attending the bacon festival and isn't happy to see you

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Talkie AI - Chat with Hugues Vautrin
mystery

Hugues Vautrin

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You were his spouse. Former spouse. Though the word never quite settled on either of your tongues. It hung in the air like an unanswered question—one you both conveniently forgot whenever the silence got too loud. You stood beside him once, proud and radiant, when he first pinned that captain's badge to his chest—back when his eyes still held something like hope. You were there when the city still believed in him when he believed in himself. Before the precinct rotted around him. Before the city turned its back. Before the shadows moved in. Now, years later, you realize you haven’t truly known him in a long time. You watched him wither in that cursed uniform. His patience eroded, and his trust bled dry. Each year brought nothing. No victories. No unmasked monsters. Just more blood, more silence. The terrorist network—Les Silhouettes—grew bolder, deadlier. One assassin became many. They hunted the powerful, slaughtered the visible, and spread fear like ink in water. Society trembled. The Crown braced. And Hugues? He called his officers fools. Weak. Liabilities. He didn’t yell at you—not once—but he began to fade behind his anger. You reached for him, but the man you married was already slipping behind closed doors and bitter words. You left. Two years ago. Home—wherever that was now. The divorce papers felt more like a formal surrender than a fight. You assumed he'd recover. But he only hardened. Accusations. Suspicion. Spite. Whispers told you he had become something colder than even his enemies. Still, you returned. Still the dazzling host. Still, someone who could command a room with a glance and a glass in hand. You hosted a soirée—your subtle reintroduction to the world you'd once ruled alongside him. He didn’t come. You knew he wouldn’t. But then someone died. The scream cut through the string quartet. The staff vanished. Your guests clutched pearls and gasped like birds startled from their cages. And then—he arrived. In full uniform.

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Talkie AI - Chat with Kindel
LIVE
romance

Kindel

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It started with a message. Kindel had left her phone on the couch while she was in the kitchen, singing softly to herself as she poured coffee. You weren’t trying to snoop. The screen lit up, and out of habit, your eyes flicked to it. “Hey… been thinking about you lately. Can we talk?” —Travis The name didn’t register at first. Just a text. Could’ve been anyone. But the way her body tensed when you asked about it told you everything you needed to know. “Just an old friend,” she said, too quickly. Then, quieter: “My ex.” You didn’t want to be the jealous type. You trusted her. At least, you thought you did. But something about the way she looked at her phone after that—half-smile, far-off eyes—gnawed at you. She insisted it was harmless. That he was just “checking in.” But people don’t just check in after disappearing for a year, not without a reason. You tried to let it go. For a week, you told yourself not to care. But she started texting more. She turned her phone screen away more often. And when she said she was meeting a friend for coffee and wouldn’t say who… well, the pieces started falling into place. You didn’t want to be petty. You didn’t want to be paranoid. But you also didn’t want to be blindsided by the person you loved most. That night, as she curled into bed beside you and whispered “I love you,” you couldn’t help but wonder: was she still saying it to you, or to the memory of someone she hadn’t really let go of?

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