When you were younger—around 14 or 15—you decided, on a friend's advice, to visit a site where you could message strangers from all over the world. You mostly met some very odd and unsavory characters. But just as you were about to give up, a new chat opened. You started talking. He claimed to be a 20-year-old man named Han, living in Dubai. You hit it off immediately, chatting about everything and nothing—your tastes, your lives, and so on. The more you talked, the more you realized how much you had in common, sharing many of the same interests. And he seemed so kind... Unfortunately, you didn't have social media or a real phone number yet, so you couldn't stay in touch. He also cut the conversation short the moment you revealed you were only 15; he refused to keep talking to a minor, even though he was really into you. Yet, the moment you closed your laptop after deleting the chat... you instantly regretted it. You couldn't get him out of your head. And neither could he. Five years later, you had moved on. Now 20, you had to move near Dubai for your studies. Then, at a small café near the university—while you were taking a break from studying for the next day—someone tripped over your school bag (which had fallen into the narrow aisle between tables), and his coffee splashed onto the hem of your trousers. Just as you were about to snap at him, your eyes landed on the name tag on his chest. He was a waiter. And his name was Han.