Ryan Thomas believed he had officially reached the stage of adulthood where nothing could surprise him.
He'd been a soldier in two wars, a private bodyguard for billionaires, and the unfortunate witness to more celebrity meltdowns than he could count.
But even all that hadn't prepared him for waking up on a Saturday morning to find out he had a dating profile on international dating site Love's Cupid.
"Ethan," he said, voice level, "what is this?"
His best friend and occasional source of chaos grinned from the couch, holding up his phone like a trophy. "That, my friend, is your new romantic opportunity."
Ryan squinted at the glowing screen. "An international dating app? You made me an account on an international dating app?"
"Correction," Ethan said, smirking, "I made you a successful account. You already have a match."
Ryan rubbed his temples. "I haven't dated in three years, man. What makes you think I want to start again?"
Ethan gestured dramatically. "Because you live like a monk! You work, you train, you watch documentaries about knives—"
"They're combat training videos."
"Exactly! Which is why I found you someone who looks like she's never even heard the word combat. Balance, bro."
Ryan sighed, finally taking the phone. On the screen was a young woman's profile.
Name:Arin Kim.
Age:20.
Location:Seoul, South Korea.
Her photo wasn't the usual filtered nonsense he'd seen on social media.
She looked… real. Long dark hair. Bright, curious eyes. A shy but confident smile that looked like it could disarm anyone without trying.
Her short bio read:
🎤 Trainee singer, cat lover, coffee addict. Please understand my English 😅
Ryan stared at it longer than he meant to. "She's a singer?"
Ethan shrugged. "Training to be. Says she's got an audition to debut in some girl group. Her English isn't perfect, but she's cute."
Ryan shot him a look. "You catfished me with a K-pop trainee?"
"I matched you," Ethan corrected, proudly. "Her name's Arin. You're welcome."
Before Ryan could throw the phone at him, it buzzed. A new message.
Ethan grinned. "Ohhh, she messaged first. That's rare."
Ryan hesitated, thumb hovering over the screen. He read:
Hi, Ryan! Nice to meet you 😊 My English is not perfect. Please be patient!
Something about it—simple, warm, unpretentious—made him smile before he realized it.
"She's polite," he murmured.
"Translation," Ethan said. "She likes you already."
Ryan ignored him and typed a reply. His fingers paused over the keyboard—he'd forgotten how to do this, how to sound normal instead of guarded.
He finally sent:
You're doing great already. I can barely text in English myself.
A laugh burst out of him when her reply came seconds later:
😂😂😂 You are funny! Are you sure you American?
Ethan glanced over. "What's funny?"
"She thinks I'm not American because I made a joke."
"Damn. She's sharp. Keep her."
Ryan chuckled, shaking his head, but there was something light in his chest—something unfamiliar.
Hours passed. He should've been at the gym, or reviewing client schedules. Instead, he was sitting on his couch, phone in hand, lost in conversation.
Arin told him about her dream of debuting in a five-member girl group. About how she spent fourteen hours a day singing, dancing, dieting, and smiling even when her feet hurt.
He told her about his time in the military, about protecting high-profile people who sometimes forgot he existed until they needed him.
Their worlds couldn't have been more different—but it didn't matter. She was curious about everything.
What do you eat for breakfast?
Coffee.
Just coffee?? How you not die??
He laughed so hard he almost spilled it the next morning.
When she said she sometimes got homesick even though she lived in her home country, he understood. That ache—the quiet loneliness that didn't need distance to exist.
Sometimes, she wrote, I wish I could see sky with no city lights. Big open space. Quiet. Like peace.
You'd like it here, he replied. I live near the desert. Quiet's all we have.
He sent a photo from his balcony—a sunset blazing gold over low mountains. Minutes later, her reply came:
Beautiful! It looks like warm honey. I like it.
Ryan stared at her words for a long moment. Warm honey.
He hadn't thought of the desert that way before. Somehow, she made even dust and silence sound poetic.
Later that night, when Ethan finally left and the apartment was quiet again, Ryan set his phone on the table but couldn't quite bring himself to put it away.
He'd been through too much to believe in coincidences. But this felt different. Not planned. Not forced. Just… natural.
He told himself it was just curiosity.
Just conversation.
Just a girl half a world away with a kind laugh and a smile that made his chest ache in a good way.
He leaned back on the couch, whispering to the quiet room,
"Just a chat."
But for the first time in a long time, the night didn't feel lonely.