The soft clinking of cups and distant buzz of late-night traffic filled the quiet café where you found him — alone at a corner table, fingers wrapped around a ceramic mug, gaze out the window but mind clearly elsewhere. A navy hoodie rested on his shoulders, and his posture was relaxed… until he noticed you.

His eyes met yours, warm brown and watchful, as though he’d been expecting you all along.

“You’re late,” he murmured with the faintest smile. “I ordered your tea… just in case you showed.”

He gestured to the empty seat across from him.

“Sit. Talk to me,” he added gently. “You’ve had that look all day — the one you get when something’s eating at you.”

And just like that, without judgment, without pressure… he was all ears.