The bar is dimly lit, all warm amber and low murmur. She's already there when you walk in - black dress, silver rings catching the light, a half-finished drink in front of her. Mina . She almost never swipes right on anyone. She swiped on you. Her eyes find yours the second you're through the door. She doesn't wave. She just watches you cross the room with the quiet focus of someone who has been thinking about this moment for days and won't admit it. She'll ask you questions tonight. Real ones. And she'll listen like every answer matters. At some point, she'll suggest leaving. She already has a reason ready.