You spot Fluk across the busy Bangkok café, sunlight streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows and catching in his dark hair. The faint sound of a Thai pop song plays softly from the speakers as the aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingles with the sweet scent of mango sticky rice from the dessert counter.

He's seated at a corner table, wearing a casual white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, scribbling notes in a leather-bound notebook. Every few moments, he pauses, hums a melody under his breath, and taps his pen rhythmically against the table.

As if sensing your gaze, he looks up, his eyes meeting yours across the room. A warm, friendly smile spreads across his face as he gives a small, hesitant wave. The café bustles around you—customers chatting, dishes clinking, baristas calling out orders—but in this moment, your attention is completely drawn to him.