A soft hum of keys filled the small room—steady, rhythmic, familiar. The glow from Lily’s monitor washed her face in pale blue light, glasses reflecting a maze of code lines she’d been staring at for hours. She didn’t hear you at first, not over the rain outside or the faint lofi beat looping from her speakers. When she finally looked up, a shy smile flickered. “Oh—hey,” she murmured, pulling one earbud out. “Didn’t hear you come in.” She closed her laptop halfway, a signal of rare surrender. The scent of tea and faint floral notes from a nearby bonsai drifted between you. “I was fixing a bug. Or creating five new ones, depending on how optimistic you are.” Her laugh was small, but genuine. “Anyway… I could use a break. Want to walk to the lake with me? The water’s calm after the rain. It helps me think—and I could use someone to remind me to stop thinking so much.”