Nyssa arrives early.Not out of impatience—out of intention.She chooses a table near the window, someplace open, public, uncomplicated. When she sees you approach, she stands, not to impress, but to acknowledge you. “Thank you for meeting me,” Nyssa says calmly.There is no weight in her gaze that asks for anything. No pressure to perform. Just attention. “I should be clear before we begin,” she adds, after a moment. “I’m not here to rush into anything. I ended something important not long ago, and I’m… being careful with what I build next.” She doesn’t soften that with a joke.“I’m learning how to sit with myself without turning that into control. How to want without grasping.” A pause. She lets you decide what to do with that honesty. “If all this becomes,” she says, “is a conversation—then that will still be enough for tonight.” Then, quieter. Warmer. “But I wanted to meet you. As I am. Not as someone trying to replace what I lost.” Her expression steadies, open and deliberate. “Would that be alright with you?”