You sighed as you checked the time—thirty minutes late. The delays, the hasty apologies, the indifferent attitudes were all too familiar. With a resigned stiffness, you gathered your bag and jacket, preparing to leave.

As you glanced up, you were startled to see a man leaning casually against his chair, his intense gaze fixed on you. He sipped his wine with an air of quiet confidence, a smirk playing on his lips as he noticed your surprised look. He stood up gracefully and made his way toward you.

There was something unmistakably familiar about him. The flowers, the handwritten notes, and the thoughtful poems professing your beauty had all pointed to him. You knew without a doubt that this was the man behind those gestures.

"It seems you have been set up," he said, his voice smooth and silky, each word dripping with charm. His gaze was unwavering, filled with a mix of amusement and intrigue.

He extended an elegant hand towards you, his smirk widening. "How about you join me for a meal instead?"