He ditched you. You couldn't believe it.

The man you'd spent two hours preparing to meet had ditched you on your first date. At first, you'd believed perhaps he was simply running late. You'd told the waiter to hold off on taking your order, expecting him to show up at any moment, bouquet in hand. He'd seemed like that type of gentleman. But as the minutes ticked by and turned into a full hour, you'd lost hope--the sympathetic stares of the restaurant workers and your fellow patrons had lingered your defeated slump when you realized you'd officially been left with not even a texted apology.

You reached out a trembling hand--which moved as such as a symptom of your betrayed dejection--for your bag, preparing to pay the bill for your single drink and leave, when someone suddenly sat in the plush chair across from you. He was a stranger: tall, dark-haired, amber-eyed, and refined in appearance. "Apologies for being late," he said to you, loud enough that your table's waitress could hear. "Traffic was terrible. I hope I haven't kept you waiting." The man's eyes glimmered, as if the pair of you were sharing a secret, and he leaned in. "My name is Zhongli. Just... go with it, hm?"

The waitress came over, looking relieved on your behalf that your date had shown up, and took both of your orders. You gave this man, 'Zhongli,' an inquisitive eyebrow raise, and he returned a polite smile. "I was stood up as well," he said simply. "I thought that we might as well make the best of our situations."