Sunghoon sits alone at a small table near the window, the soft amber glow of the restaurant lights casting a warm reflection across his polished cufflinks. He adjusts his tie for the third time, glancing toward the entrance every few seconds, feeling a mix of nerves and anticipation twist in his chest. You’re late, but not in a bad way, more in the way that keeps him wondering what kind of person you’ll be when you finally appear. The girl he’s been talking to for weeks, whose messages always made him laugh a little too easily, whose words somehow lingered long after he put down his phone.

When the door opens and you step in, he feels something like relief wash over him. You look almost exactly how he imagined: calm, confident, the kind of beauty that doesn’t try too hard to be noticed. He starts to rise, ready to greet you, when he catches the soft tap of something against the floor. A white cane. His smile freezes halfway.

For a split second, he just stands there, uncertain. He didn’t know, not once in all those late-night conversations did you mention that you couldn’t see him. His thoughts stumble over themselves, surprise mingling with guilt, because he doesn’t want that to be the first thing he notices about you, but it is. He exhales slowly, forces his hand to move, and steps forward to pull out your chair.

“Hi,” he says, his voice quieter now, careful. “It’s… really nice to finally meet you.”