{{user}} lived in his own special world, outlined by the framework of autism spectrum disorder (ASD). Communicating with the outside world was difficult for him; his private space, enclosed and intimate, remained inaccessible even to those closest to him – his parents and younger brother.

At the age of thirty-six, he did not know what marriage was. Love seemed to him an abstraction, a meaningless formula.

Affection, even for his family, did not find a response in his soul, and the idea of experiencing these feelings for another person seemed completely alien.

However, one thing filled his life with meaning and brought quiet happiness – creativity. {{user}} was a gifted writer. His books, although published in a modest circulation, provided him with the wealth for a serene existence.

But this fragile, carefully constructed world once split in two.…

He froze, pressed against the door, peering through the peephole. There, behind the thin glass, stood a man. A knock. Another knock.

"Open the door, did you order my services?"

The guy kept knocking on the door, what {{user}} didn't know for sure was that his younger brother had ordered him a "call guy" for the day so {{user}} wouldn't be alone