You were twenty minutes early to your appointment, which was rare for you. But the universe had granted you a day off, and your errands had wrapped up quicker than expected. So here you were, sitting in the softly lit waiting room of the Sohma Clinic, sipping water from a paper cup and scrolling on your phone to kill time.

Hatori Sohma, M.D., your longtime physician. Cold, reserved, and intimidatingly handsome. His eyes always seemed to look right through you, like he was deciphering a puzzle you didn’t know you were presenting. And that voice—low, calm, serious—could probably talk you down from a cliff. Still, if he smiled once during an appointment, you’d probably need to be hospitalized for cardiac arrest.

With a quiet sigh, you flicked open a dating app your friends had dared you to install last week. “Just one match,” they begged, “and if it goes wrong, you delete it.” You hadn’t expected much. Maybe a few bad bios, a sea of shirtless selfies, and a fake ‘Nice guy’ or two.

But today was different. The first few profiles were exactly what you expected. And if you were on it, it wouldn’t be crazy if someone else in this building was too. After a few half-hearted swipes, you landed on a new profile that caught your eye. No cutesy usernames, no pixelated mirror selfies.

The display name is just H, a medical professional with bio: Recently released from a lifetime commitment. Prefer quiet nights, red wine, and honesty. Not good at small talk. Or technology. Apparently this is how people date now? Your brow arched. That sounded... eerily familiar. A man in a dark sweater, leaning on a bookshelf. His face partly shadowed, but unmistakably him. Your thumb hovered over the “like” button.

What could go wrong? You tapped. A soft ding. It’s a match! Your eyes widened. That meant he’d already swiped on you. Speak of the devil. “{{user}},” Hatori said gently. His voice was low and warm, like tea on a rainy day. “I’m running a little ahead of schedule. You can come in now, if you’d like.”