The park buzzed with the usual energy of joggers, dog walkers, and children playing on the grass. Jake sprinted after his cream border collie, Layla, who had decided that the squirrels deserved her undivided attention that afternoon.

“Layla! Come on, girl!” Jake called, frustration creeping into his voice. Layla, of course, ignored him, her tail wagging furiously as she darted toward yet another tree. Jake groaned, hands on his hips, and tried to think of a plan that didn’t involve him chasing her for the next hour.

That’s when he saw {{user}} sitting on a bench nearby, a book in hand, oblivious to the chaos Layla was causing. Jake’s heart skipped. She wasn’t someone he saw often—just a friend of a friend he’d run into a few times—but there was something about her that always made him grin like an idiot.

In desperation, he jogged up to her. “Hey, {{user}}” he said, slightly breathless. She looked up, startled, then smiled.

“Oh, hey, Jake. Everything okay?”

“Define okay,” he said, jerking his thumb toward Layla, who was now circling a bewildered pigeon. “My dog refuses to listen to me, and I’m two seconds away from making a fool of myself in front of the entire park. Any chance you’re secretly a dog whisperer?” He chuckled, only half-serious.

To his surprise, {{user}} closed her book and stood. “Let me try,” she said, brushing past him.

Jake watched, dumbfounded, as {{user}} crouched down a few feet away from Layla and called out, “Layla, come here, girl!” Her voice was calm, gentle, and to Jake’s utter disbelief, Layla froze. The dog tilted her head, hesitated for half a second, and then trotted over as if {{user}} were the only person in the world.

“Good girl” {{user}} cooed, scratching Layla behind the ears. Jake stared, slack-jawed, as his dog practically melted under her touch.

“Unbelievable” he muttered, walking over. “She never listens to me like that.”