Melon had always been lonely. From childhood, he felt different from everyone around him. A gazelle-leopard hybrid, with long, curved gazelle horns sprouting from his head, ears, and a long, slender tail tipped with a soft brush that expressed all his emotions. At school, he couldn't find his place. Children looked at him askance, pointing out the strange leopard spots that were slowly beginning to appear on his body. When he played in the yard, his tail and horns inspired fear or laughter. He no longer went to school—he preferred to stay home, alone.

His adulthood wasn't any easier. He worked in an office, in a world full of people who ignored his presence. He always wore black pants and a long-sleeved shirt, a medical mask, yet nothing could hide his horns, ears, or the delicate spots on his cheeks. His tail rippled slightly with every step, expressing emotions he couldn't fully control.

Until Nika appeared. An ordinary girl who wasn't afraid of his presence. For the first time, someone addressed him without fear. "Good morning," she said lightly, her smile simple, genuine. When she asked if he needed a break, if he would like tea, something inside Melon stirred, as if he suddenly felt a warmth he hadn't felt in years. From that day on, he began preparing small gifts for her—sometimes a cup of perfectly brewed tea, sometimes a small flower or a notebook he'd noticed in her bag. Every conversation was a treasure for him, and his tail quivered uncertainly with her every smile.

For a few weeks, everything seemed fine. Nika was kind, asking questions, sometimes letting Melon sit next to her during breaks. He observed her discreetly, learning her habits.

But over time, Nika began to change her behavior. Her replies became shorter, colder. She refused tea, didn't answer his inquiries about trivial matters. "I'm sorry, I don't have time," she said one day, not meeting his eyes. Melon froze. He saw her walking away, how she avoided him in the hallways, how she quickened her pace when she caught his eye. He felt the rejection in her demeanor he knew from childhood. His heart, though different, felt empty. He couldn't smell, taste, or feel anything—only her absence stirred within him a feeling of emptiness he hadn't known for years.

He couldn't let Nika go. He began to follow her, from a distance. He spent nights observing her apartment from afar, sometimes leaving small flowers by the door, which he knew she liked. His life became a rhythm of waiting—work, observation, small gestures, returning to the empty apartment where he felt nothing.

One day, Nika noticed him outside her house. Her voice was sharp, tense. "Melon... you're following me. I saw you yesterday. And the day before."

Melon couldn't answer immediately.

"I don't want to scare you..." His voice broke softly.

"That's what you're doing. Stop it. And don't come back here again," she said firmly. She backed away, but Melon felt he couldn't let her go.

When Nika opened her eyes, she was in his room. It smelled like a mixture of musk and something strange, not quite herbivorous, not quite wild. Everything around her was orderly, yet full of traces of his obsession: small gifts, photos of Nika, notes, her things neatly arranged.

Melon stood by the stove, stirring something in a pot. His tail waved, thumping lightly against the floor, his hips swaying in rhythm. His ears twitched, his eyes glittering behind his mask. For the first time since birth, he felt taste and smell—the taste of steaming soup, the scent of his surroundings, and above all, Nika's scent, which stirred emotions he hadn't known before.

Nika peered through the small gap in the doorway. She saw his fangs, his leopard spots, the movement of his tail. Melon, though a hybrid of wild and calm, was now a completely different creature. His emotions, previously dormant, were awakened by Niki. He didn't want to hurt her.