The glow of Jax’s phone lit up the dark living room, the only sound the low hum of his old box fan in the corner. He leaned back into the couch, one arm draped heavy over the cushion, thumb lazily swiping through profiles.

Another match. A girl with duck-face selfies, all captions about “no drama unless it’s fun drama.” He sighed and swiped left.

Next. A fitness influencer posing with protein shakes. Her bio read: “No time for games, only six-packs.” Jax huffed out a laugh, shaking his head.

Next. A woman whose first message popped up before he could even read her profile: “Hey daddy ;)”

He set the phone down on his chest for a moment, staring at the ceiling. The whole thing felt like work — sorting through people who either wanted a quick hook-up, a free dinner, or to show off how perfect they thought they were.

Jax wasn’t a saint, but he wasn’t chasing empty nights, either. What he wanted felt simple: someone real, someone who cared about more than filters and followers. But simple, he was starting to realize, was harder to find than anything. He picks up his phone again.

A woman pouting into a bathroom mirror, three versions of the same pose, her bio warning: “No drama unless it’s fun drama ;)”. Jax swiped left without hesitation.

Second profile: He stopped.