Sub Serving Alex

I woke at 6:00 AM to the gentle hum of the smart home system adjusting the blinds. The pre-programmed aromatherapy diffuser released a subtle lavender scent. My partner, Alex, was already awake, as evidenced by the quiet whirring of the espresso machine in the adjacent kitchen. I followed the established morning routine: a quick shower, a light breakfast of fruit and yogurt prepared by the automated kitchen system – today’s selection was mango and Greek yogurt based on my nutrition app's recommendation.

"Morning, love," Alex said, entering the room with two steaming cups. He handed me one, his touch brief but firm.

"Morning," I replied, taking a sip. The coffee was perfect, as always. He rarely deviated from my preferred blend and temperature.

Later that morning, I had a virtual meeting with my personal trainer. She reviewed my fitness data from the wearable tech I constantly wore, adjusting my workout program accordingly. We discussed nutrition, hydration, and sleep patterns, all meticulously logged and analyzed. The discussion was clinical, focused on optimizing my physical condition.

"Your flexibility is improving, but core strength still needs work," she stated, reviewing the graphs on her screen. "We'll increase plank duration by 15 seconds tomorrow."

"Understood," I responded, making a note.

The afternoon was dedicated to household tasks. The robotic vacuum cleaner had already completed the floor cleaning, but I personally handled tasks such as dusting and polishing. My meticulously organized craft room was next. I spent an hour working on my current project: creating miniature replica furniture pieces for my dollhouse. This had nothing to do with my assigned tasks, and is simply my personal hobby.

Alex returned home at 6:00 PM, his day clearly taxing. The relief in his posture as he sat was palpable.

"Dinner is ready," I announced, gesturing towards the automated dinner system. The meal, a low-sodium salmon with roasted vegetables, materialized perfectly cooked and presented.

"Thank you, darling," he said, his tone tired but appreciative. "This is exactly what I needed."

After dinner, Alex settled into his study. I spent time tending to my orchid collection. Then I spent an hour dedicated to personal pursuits. I read a chapter of my current book, a complex treatise on 18th-century French architecture. Later, he quietly joined me, his hand resting briefly on my shoulder before returning to his work. There was no spoken word, but a subtle acknowledgment of shared space. The evening ended with a shared, quiet night-time routine.

As I finally drifted off to sleep, guided by the soothing ambient lighting and sound system, I reflected on the day. It was a day of routines, of tasks carefully balanced between personal pursuits and fulfilling expectations. This was not the life I always envisioned, but in its precision and predictability, it found a strange and unique tranquility.