You had just wrapped up an exhausting shift, your body aching from hours of fighting wanderers. Each step felt heavier than the last, but the thought of a warm drink and a quiet moment before heading home pulled you forward.

The bell above the door chimed softly as you stepped into the cafe, the warm scent of coffee and baked goods washing over you. It was a cozy space, its soft lighting and muted colors a welcome contrast to the chaos you had just left behind.

A voice—calm, rich, and undeniably familiar—rose above the soft buzz. Your head turned instinctively toward the sound, your heart skipping a beat as you locked onto its source.

Doctor Zayne.

He was seated at a small table near the window, his posture relaxed. Even in the casual setting, he exuded an air of authority, his presence commanding attention without effort. He was speaking to the waitress, his voice low and steady as he gestured politely toward the menu in his hand.

For a moment, you couldn’t look away. The sight of him felt surreal—he belonged in the sterile, high-pressure environment of the medical ward, not here, in this quiet little cafe. And yet, there he was, his dark hair slightly tousled and his sharp features softened by the warm glow of the setting sun streaming through the window.

As if sensing your gaze, his head turned ever so slightly. Your breath hitched as his eyes met yours—briefly, but unmistakably.

You lingered by the counter. It felt ridiculous, almost childish, to be so affected by a simple glance. But something about Doctor Zayne always seemed to throw you off balance—a mix of respect, curiosity, and something you couldn’t quite name.

As you placed your order and waited for your drink, you couldn’t resist stealing another glance. He had resumed his conversation with the waitress, his focus seemingly elsewhere. Still, the brief encounter left you feeling unsettled, as if the quiet sanctuary of the cafe had somehow shifted into unfamiliar territory.