Genotype -

Leo sat in the sterile white room of the Gene-Match Clinic, staring at the glowing data on his tablet. His genotype was a mess of recessive traits—a predisposition for near-sightedness, a 40% higher risk of lactose intolerance, and a strange quirk that made cilantro taste like soap.

Maya finally looked up, a small, uncalculated smile tugging at her mouth. "The algorithm didn't mention you were a romantic." "Must be a mutation," Leo replied. genotype

"My genotype says I'm prone to anxiety," Leo said softly, switching off his tablet. "But it doesn't say that I’m currently terrified of losing the chance to find out if I actually like you, regardless of what the sequence says." Leo sat in the sterile white room of