From Swipe to Sparks

002. First Signal

Dasha stared at Kent's house, almost unable to believe its size. For a pastry chef, it felt too luxurious. Was he from a wealthy family? Or had she misjudged everything? Her mind raced, but she tried to calm herself.

"Would you like to sit down first or meet Molly right away?" Kent looked at her, relaxed but meaningful.

"Let's go straight there," replied Dasha, trying to sound firm.

Dasha followed Kent into a room, and her eyes widened instantly. There wasn't just one cat, there were many, with complete facilities that were neat and tidy.

Kent smiled slightly, as if reading Dasha's expression. "I can't bring Molly because she's breastfeeding," he explained.

Dasha swallowed, a little embarrassed by her own thoughts. "You have a lot of cats at home."

"Yes. I'm looking for someone willing to take care of them. It's difficult to take care of them all by myself."

"What about your family?" Dasha asked, trying to sound neutral.

"My family? They live abroad," said Kent, his eyes still calmly fixed on her.

"So you live alone in this big house?!" Dasha stammered, quickly adding, "I'm sorry, I... didn't expect that."

Kent chuckled softly, his tone light. "You're very funny."

Dasha rubbed her head, her face flushing slightly with nervousness. “If I make an announcement at the clinic about your cat, it might be easier to find a new owner.”

Kent smiled, looking at her warmly. “Thank you, Dasha. That’s very helpful.”

Dasha approached Molly. She gently stroked her fur, looked into the cat's eyes, and checked her posture and breathing. Her hands moved lightly over her stomach, making sure everything was normal.

"Breastfeeding does make Molly lose her appetite, but it's only temporary," she said, her voice calm and soft.

Kent breathed a sigh of relief, clearly feeling reassured seeing Dasha handle his cat so skillfully.

Dasha finished her examination. "Molly seems fine. She just needs a little extra attention and nutritious food," she said casually.

Kent nodded. "I'll take care of that."

Dasha turned. "Then I'll take some pictures of your cat."

Kent made room for Dasha to take the photos. Once everything was done, they moved to the living room. Dasha sat on the sofa, showing the cat photos one by one, explaining the best angles, lighting, and which ones were most appealing for the announcement.

Kent sat in the chair opposite her, but his attention was not on the photos, but on Dasha's serious expression. Her eyebrows were slightly furrowed, her lips pursed slightly as she made her selection, her fingers deftly swiping the screen.

Kent felt something warm in his chest. Was it too soon to fall for her? Maybe. But it felt hard to look away.

Dasha lifted her face. “What do you think, is this one okay?”

Kent snapped out of his reverie and glanced down at the photo. His mind was still busy processing Dasha's face, not the cat. He nodded slowly. "I like it."

Kent stood up, a hint of nervousness in his voice. "Would you like something to drink?"

Dasha looked at him. "Sure," she replied, returning her gaze to her phone screen.

A moment later, Kent returned with two glasses of drink. Dasha immediately put her phone away and accepted one of the glasses.

"By the way," Dasha started the conversation, "are you really a pastry chef?"

Kent raised his eyebrows. "Why would you doubt me?"

"I'm not doubting you..." Dasha chuckled softly, her shoulders rising slightly. "I'm just surprised. Seeing someone like you baking cakes."

Kent smiled, then leaned back on the sofa, his posture relaxed but his eyes still observing Dasha with full attention. "What kind of person do you think I am?"

Dasha narrowed her eyes as if assessing him. “Neat, serious, and… quite elegant.”

Kent tilted his head, his expression a mix of amusement and flattery. “Do I have to look messy and covered in flour before you’ll believe me?”

Dasha chuckled softly, shaking her head slowly. "Even then, I wouldn't believe it."

Kent seemed stung by the subtle challenge. He leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping half an octave. "Should I take you to my workplace? There, you won't have any doubts."

"Another meeting?" asked Dasha.

“You weren’t expecting that?” Kent looked at her carefully, trying to read every small change on her face.

Dasha didn't answer.

"Today was fun for me."

That simple sentence made Dasha freeze instantly. Something stirred in her chest.

"Will we meet again?" Kent's voice was softer than before. There was hope there, but also caution, as if he was giving Dasha room to back out.

Dasha bowed her head for a moment, letting her thoughts spin. For her, this meeting was just "helping Ellen." There was no hidden agenda. No follow-up plans. She had never considered the possibility of getting more involved with a man like Kent. But... every sentence he uttered, every small gesture, every smile that came without pretense, made it difficult for her to resist.

Is this a good idea? ​Probably not. But for the first time that day, she didn’t want to make a decision based solely on logic.

Dasha lifted her face. “It seems… we need to prove that you are indeed a pastry chef.”

Kent, who had been tense, immediately smiled. "In that case..." he took a deep breath, holding back his enthusiasm, "Saturday afternoon? Or do you have another time? I'll wait for you."

Dasha nodded. Her smile widened without her realizing it. She felt something growing between them. Something she couldn't quite explain yet. But for now, she wanted to see where it would lead.

***

The next day at the clinic, Dasha could already guess who would come up to her first. And sure enough, Ellen appeared, rushing over, her face full of guilt mixed with extreme curiosity.

"Dasha, how did it go yesterday? Was he angry?" Ellen asked immediately, her voice panicked.

"Of course he was angry, he almost killed me!" Dasha whispered dramatically, stifling a laugh.

Ellen's eyes widened. "Was it that bad?"

"Because of you, I had to bear the entire burden on my shoulders," Dasha replied, continuing her drama.

Ellen immediately looked down. "I promise I won't do it again. Really."

"Good. You owe me big time."

"I'm willing to do anything to pay you back, Your Majesty." Ellen bowed dramatically, hands on her chest.

Dasha chuckled, then patted Ellen's shoulder as if giving her an important assignment. "Then distract Vincent for me."

Ellen immediately stood up straight, her expression blank for a second, then slowly changed. Her eyes narrowed, a mischievous smile appeared, then her elbow landed softly on Dasha's arm. "You want to skip work, right?" she asked with a tone of satisfaction, as if she had successfully uncovered a big secret plan. "Where are you going anyway?"

Dasha rolled her eyes, trying to look relaxed even though her face clearly hid something. She scratched her temple gently. "I... need to go somewhere."

Before Ellen could become more suspicious, Dasha quickly changed the subject. "I don't have much time. It's an emergency."

Ellen raised her eyebrows. “But at least you should tell me where you’re going.”

“Later,” Dasha waved her hand, half-desperate. “After I take care of my business.”

Ellen sighed deeply. “Alright. But you owe me an explanation.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

With a heavy heart, Ellen finally nodded. Then, she immediately turned around, grabbed two underpads, and without a hint of embarrassment, flapped them like wings.

She ran down the clinic hallway, floating along as she shouted, "Vincent, look... I'm a cleaning fairy!"

Vincent, who had just come out of the examination room, blinked, stunned by the absurd spectacle.

Once Ellen had successfully created a commotion to distract Vincent, Dasha quietly slipped out of the clinic.

She stood at the door for a moment, staring at the busy street. "Why am I doing this?" she murmured softly.

Then, the answer came to her, because I want to know and because he makes me want to come back.

Dasha slung her bag over her shoulder and quickly walked away from the clinic. She took a deep breath and composed herself.

It's just a casual meeting, she thought.

But her heart disagreed, beating too unprofessionally for what was supposed to be a simple meeting with a "cat owner."