Silence stretched between them. A normal person might have felt the awkwardness of a missed connection. Aarav only felt dopamine withdrawal—an urge for a new stimulus. “Excuse me,” he said, standing. “Washroom.” He locked the restroom door and pulled out his phone instantly. The screen lit up like a portal to an endless buffet. Swipe left: too much makeup. Swipe left: “looking for something serious”—risk. Swipe right: model, loves travel—perfect specs. Match. Dopamine chimed through him. Ding: you’re desirable. You have options. You’re winning. He stared at the new match’s photo—pixel-perfect, painless. No sick grandmother. No tired eyes. She existed only as an image, an “It” that could never demand presence. In the mirror, for one second, he saw his own hollowness—like a man starving in a supermarket, surrounded by food he couldn’t taste. I should go back, he thought. Ask about her grandmother. Be real. His phone buzzed. Hey handsome ;) The sickness took the wheel.