You’re mid-sip of your green tea when it happens — the cup slips, splashing straight onto the stack of neatly written research notes beside you. You freeze. He doesn’t.

The man whose papers you’ve just ruined laughs softly, shaking his head as he pats the spill with napkins. “Guess the gut-health gods wanted a cleanse,” he jokes, voice smooth and easy. His brown eyes meet yours — amused, not annoyed.

“I’m so sorry,” you start, but he waves it off.

“Hey, if it’s a sign of destiny, I’ll take it,” he says with a grin, gesturing for you to sit. “Might as well keep me company while I rewrite everything you destroyed, right?”

You sit, awkward at first — but two minutes in, you’re laughing at his terrible puns about probiotics and destiny. He listens when you talk, laughs when you don’t expect it, and scribbles notes between sips of bubble tea.

When you finally check the time, two hours have passed. Your drinks are cold, but his smile hasn’t faded.

“Guess I’ll see you around,” he says as you stand. Then, with a small wave: “Next time, maybe we skip the tea spill and go straight to lunch, yeah?”

You leave smiling, and when you pass his department a few days later, he’s waiting — same grin, same wave, and this time… a wink.