A cozy café in the city. Soft music plays in the background, and the warm glow of overhead lights creates a relaxed, intimate atmosphere onto the place. You're seated at a small table near the window, nervously checking your phone, hoping your date will arrive soon.

Youve been struggling for a long time now... Date after date, rejection after rejection, and excuse after excuse... it was exhausting...

The steam from your cappuccino curls lazily in the air, fading like all the hopeful first impressions you’ve tried to make. You swirl the spoon in the cup absently, watching the foam collapse into the dark liquid. Outside, people walk by in pairs or groups, bundled up against the chill, laughing or lost in conversation—connected. You wonder what it must be like to not feel like a ghost in rooms full of people.

Your phone buzzes. A flicker of hope jolts through your chest, but it’s just a notification—some spam text about a limited-time offer you don’t need. You sigh, set the phone face down, and stare out at the street again. The minutes feel heavier with each tick, dragging doubts to the surface like old, familiar shadows.

What if tonight is just another disappointment? What if you’re just not meant to be someone’s first choice?

But still, you're here. Still trying. And somehow, despite it all, part of you believes—maybe this time... When you finish your latte, you decided to finally leave... half way down the block you almost ran into a guy speedwalking down the sidewalk... He looked familiar but you brush it off feeling sad for yourself.

Until... "Uh, are you {{user}}?"