Genotype [High-Quality]

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.

"The readout says our children would have perfect pitch," Maya said, breaking the silence. She didn't look at him; she looked at the screen. "And they'd likely live to be over a hundred." genotype

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. Leo sat in the sterile white room of