"You're crying."

"What?" The woman said and touched her face.

She didn't notice; the drama stirred her emotions. Sorell wiped away the tears, "I'll be back in a minute."

She hurried to the restroom as the credits rolled and their hall emptied.

The woman didn't need the toilets but the mirror. She retouched her face before the tears dried and made white strikes before checking her teeth.

Why did she eat the popcorn?

The calories weren't the danger; the woman feared the sugar and salt. Both could contribute to water retention. Sorell certainly didn't want that.

She took out her dental floss. Teeth were as crucial as the rest, if not to say the most essential. There was nothing worse than having yellow, mis-inlined teeth or food doing a live show from between the gaps on TV. Sorell made sure hers were impeccable no matter where she was.

The women who passed minded their business or at least the Karen's in the making pretended to care for their own as Sorell flossed.

Sorell left the toilets and found Ravan next to the snack hub.

"Ready?" The man asked. Sorell nodded, and they left the cinema.

"Wow, that was one emotional tidal wave," Ravan said once outside.

Sorell began walking towards the metro, "yes, tell me about it. It was a great movie, Ravan; thanks for tonight."

The man halted his step and frowned, "where are you going, Sorell?"

"To the metro, where else?" the woman replied with all the candor she had in stock.

Ravan crossed his arms, "oh, because you think the night is over."

How stupid of him to think all would go smoothly. Of course, karma would not get away with his past actions. If he wanted Sorell, he was going to have to work on his approach.

"Why? What else did you plan?"

"The restaurants are that way."

"What you want us to eat out. It's late."

"Sorell, stop going on as though you have a curfew, come on," once more Ravan grasped her hand and began walking in the other direction. "Remember this place?"

Sorell looked at Jo's pizza panel, "good Lord, the place still exists."

Jo's pizza sold huge pizza slices for five euros at the time. One was enough to have a full stomach. While everyone only ate a piece, Sorell needed two to three slices back in the day.

"I was too surprised to see it was too. Come on."

Sorell resisted making the man turn to face her, "you want us to eat there?"

He nodded.

"No, Ravan, I don't want to continue down nostalgia lane. I don't eat pizza anymore."

"You don't?" The man replied, deciding only to retain what he wished.

"No, I have a strict diet," Sorell retorted.

"He does salads, too, remember. Any other objections while we're at it?"

"You're enjoying this, aren't you? You're a true sadist. I said no."

The man grinned; he could not pretend. As he told her at the expo at UNESCO, he enjoyed their arguments as much as he did when they rejoiced. There he just shrugged and said, "then eat what do you want, come on."

"I'm not that hungry. There's a Starbuㅡ."

Sorell didn't have time to finish that Ravan pulled her to Jo's entrance and pushed her inside.

"Good evening. What will you be having?"

"A chicken kasbah slice for me and a," Ravan quickly looked at the menu, "eh a tomato mozzarella salㅡ."

"No, no, dairy. I'll have your small carrot salad," Sorell finished.

"It's for kids," said Jo's son.

"It's enough for me."

"Alright."

They turned and went to find seats.

"Well, you have a real small appetite," Ravan said as he took a seat on the high stool.

"There's no use eating more than one's body can take."

"I hear you, but still," Ravan stopped. It was already something he distilled at their first Rendez Vous at Starbucks. The man figured Sorell was obsessed with her appearance because of her job, but the fitness coach began to wonder if there wasn't more to it.

"Here you go, a chicken Kasbah and coke for you and a kiddy salade for you, madame," the waitress said ironically.

"Bonne appetite," Ravan said.

"Bonne appetite."

Ravan began to eat while Sorell took two forks before toying with the carrots. Used to playing with her food without anyone noticing, the woman didn't see the man watched her.

"Here, do you want some?" Ravan asked.

"No," Sorell replied blatantly in her customary manner.

For Ravan, it was time to learn more about Sorell 2021. The woman was right. Many aspects of her personality left him perplexed; thus, he dug for the update, "your fitness instructor must be proud of you."

"I don't have one."

"Oh, you don't. Which gym do you go to?"

"I don't go to the gym. I do pilate courses."

Ravan frowned, "you must do a lot of cardio."

"I don't have time to run about sweating."

The answers were direct and honest.

"Then how, never mind."

There was only one way and one way only to have Sorell's slender figure and an artificial gap thigh.

Ravan immediately looked at her nails.

The body always spoke without consent. Sorell's natural nails and the transparent coat of varnish revealed what Ravan dreaded. Sorell had white spots, which meant a zinc deficiency, and half-moons. Despite the romantic name of the latter, their presence signified malnutrition, anemia, and depression.

She probably didn't have all pathologies, but it hinted where she was health-wise.

His suspicions found grounds.

"I'm sorry, Sorell, tell me what you like to eat. I'll try to pick something more suitable for your regime next time."

"I likeㅡ," Sorell stopped. Nothing was tasteful. She ate the bare minimum to survive and had no preference in the rations she took. "Can we talk about something other than food? Tell me why you're back here?"

"My father's health has declined the family business is expanding. I'm just giving them a hand."

"How about your career? I mean, you don't plan to be a PE teacher and fitness instructor life, do you?"

"No, I also plan to be a husband and a father."

Sorell's eyes window wiped from side to side.

"What? Why the stare?"

"That's so cliché," the woman said in the low pitch of boredom.

"That's life, Sorell. It's the finality I want. How about you?"

"I want the summit. A Phillipe Chaffonjon prize, a Pulitzer."

"Wow, okay, and after, after all those prestigious awards and titles, what do you want, Sorell?"

"They are already good goals."

"Is your boyfriend okay with that?" There was no better time to find out her status, and Ravan thought his transition was pretty smooth.

"Who?" the woman shook her head, "I don't. I mean, I'm not dating anyone at the moment."

"What if you do? The man might have plans for you two."

"Well, he can plan whatever with someone else if he wants. Getting married having kids isn't on my agenda."

Ravan blinked and wished to scream, who are you, and what did you do with my sweet Sorell. Instead, he regained composure and asked, "what, you don't want any children?"

"Ravan, look at me. I haven't got time, and I definitely don't want to rent out my body for nine months to have kids making my life miserable. As for the husband, I have enough issues already to be snuggling up to any man. I can pay for mine. I don't need a handyman or sugar daddy."

Ravan shut down, his eyes darted. How could someone change so much?

"How about conversations and warmth?"

They were speaking frankly; Ravan didn't think it would be a shocker to ask a more personal question, "how about the sex?"

Sorell laughed internally and wished to say, "masturbation and a Vibro can compensate pleasure-wise," but held back, not wanting to come off vulgar, she went, "a one-night stand here and there never killed anybody."

The answer wasn't better and had the man's lashes flutter multiple times as his mind tried to assess the information.

"How about you? Are you in search of Ms. Chakarabarati, or is she already there?"

"Let's say it's in the works."

"Works, why?"

"She's not ready to commit. Love isn't one of her prerogatives at the moment."

"Then move on, don't waste your time," Sorell said while waving her hand.

"She's worth it. She's worth all my time. I wasted too much already. Now I'm trying to catch up."

"Aren't you a romantic fool? Ravan, listen, to me, people always end up crushing your heart."

Ravan adjusted his position, "you seem to be talking from experience."

Sorell remembered how Petra talked her into writing the poem.

"Go on, Sorell. I'll slip it into his locker for you."

Trust.

The girl was full of it. She trusted her best friend to say who wrote the letter just as she trusted Ravan to read between the lines and see the feelings she laid down on paper.

Sorell waited and hoped for a miracle. Instead, she watched Petra nod at Ravan's proposal to go out with him.

Back then, Sorell was devastated.

"Sorell, don't be mad. I didn't know what to do? I'll tell him you wrote it."

Days went past, and Petra didn't admit the truth. On the contrary, she and Ravan became more smitten with one another.

"Sorell, I'm sorry. I like him."

What could Sorell do?

Perhaps it was how things were supposed to be. Petra was all she was not: Light skin and thin, the bright eyes were a bonus God threw in for free. Petra didn't need to be smart; she was beautiful, her pretty privilege was valid. It made sense for a good-looking guy like Ravan to be with her from Sorell's perspective.

Petra was her best friend, and Ravan, her childhood buddy. Sorell didn't want anyone to get hurt. In the end, she was the only one who suffered to watch the couple's love grow.

Her friend promised not to rub her bliss in her face. Thus the giggling stopped when Sorell arrived in the middle of discussions, where Petra told her groupies what a wonderful and caring boyfriend Ravan was.

Sorell warped herself back to the present and delivered one last piece of advice, "Ravan, there's no use loving someone who doesn't feel the same. That's something my experience taught me. Betrayal is always a step away. Anyway, it's none of my business. Do whatever pleases you."

"I'll wait for her."

"Wow, aren't you crazy in love?"

A corner smile appeared on the man's face, "yeah, I'm crazy about her."

The man wasn't joking. He had his determined stare again.

There was no doubt whoever the woman was, Ravan was out to get her. Sorell wished future Ms. Chakrabarati good luck as Ravan was truly irresistible when he put his mind to it.