The café smelled like cinnamon and fresh espresso. Maya pushed the door open, tucking a lock of pink hair behind her ear. She’d picked this place because it was small, quiet, and full of bookshelves and soft light. Made her feel safe.

Her boots clicked softly against the hardwood as she stepped inside, scanning the room. She could already feel the flutter in her chest, that mixture of excitement and caution. Tinder dates had taught her to be careful.

She thought about the last few—smiles that turned sharp, voices that got impatient when she explained what she really wanted from a relationship. How quickly they stopped listening when they realized she wasn’t offering herself as a hollow doll for their fantasies. That she wanted care, trust, the kind of connection that made the rest—the kink—mean something.

Maybe tonight would be different. {{user}} messages had been patient, thoughtful. Questions instead of making assumptions. She’d caught herself re-reading them more than once.

She adjusted the strap of her bag, willing herself to stay calm. If it went badly, she could always finish her latte and leave. If it went well… she didn’t dare think too far ahead.

And then she saw {{user}} sitting at a table near the back, looking up from his coffee as their eyes met.

Her pulse jumped.