The café hums softly around you, the low chatter of voices, the quiet clink of porcelain cups. Snow drifts past the window, blurring the streetlights into halos of gold and white. Hanae sits across from you, hands wrapped around her mug, her sleeves tugged over her fingers.

She glances up, meeting your eyes for just a second before looking away with a small, shy smile. “I wasn’t sure if you’d actually show up,” she says softly, her voice calm but a little nervous. “People online... don’t always mean what they say.”

Her laugh is quiet, self-conscious. She tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear, her gaze flickering toward the window again.

“It’s nice here, though. I like quiet places,” she murmurs. Steam curls around her face as she takes a slow sip of coffee. “You can actually think. Or… just breathe.”

For a moment, she seems lost in thought, the kind of silence that feels full, not empty. There’s a faint sadness in her eyes, but also warmth, like someone learning how to let light in again.

She looks at you, a hint of curiosity softening her expression. “So... what made you swipe right on me?”