From the moment he hung up with Sorell, Ravan had forty-eight hours to develop an ideal date. Though the man waited for an opportunity, he had not thought luck would be on his side.

"Who were you talking to?" Ayush asked as Ravan stepped back into the store.

"Sorell."

"So you two are that tight, huh?"

"I told you we went to the same school."

"So, does she have hair? Paul asked with his usual cynical tone.

Ravan turned to eye the man, "Paul, what is wrong with you. What has she done to you? You don't know her, so stop, okay."

"He's just jealous to see you're hanging out with a celebrity."

Paul sneered, "hahaha, I don't care. I'm just trying to figure out a mystery and secondly why Ravan has been trying so hard to get her attention."

"Just ask me, and I'll tell you?" Ravan replied.

He detested backdoor statements, especially when he stood in front of the person.

"So?"

"I like her a lot."

"मैने पहले ही कहा था [Maine pahale hi kaha tha=I told you], give me the money."

Paul shook his head and dug in his pocket for his wallet.

Ravan's eyes widened, "you guys made a bet?"

Ayush smiled and spoke freely without paying any attention to his words. "Yeah, Paul said you would never fancy a black woman no matter how famous. Especially one as dark as her."

Ravan turned his head to the side and glared at Paul up and down, "Paul, I know you think we're friends and all because I joke around. But I'm not your buddy; I'm your boss. Don't talk about Sorell's complexion, hair, appearance. Don't even say her name when I'm around or not. Just shut your mouth."

For all who stood around, it was a first. Ravan was the most diplomating and non-violent man they all knew. Yet, he showed a side confirming to what extent his emotions ran wild for Sorell.

Ravan walked away and returned to the office.

For the first time since forever, the man wished the employment laws in France weren't as rigid as they were. He would have fired Paul on the spot. It wouldn't change a thing, but at least Ravan would have the satisfaction of having rendered some kind of justice.

As soon as he entered his dad's office, there was a tap on the door, "Ravan, it's Ayush."

"Come in, since when do you knock?"

"Uh, like since you reminded us all who runs the place."

Ravan sighed, "Ayush, listen, we're old enough to know we can't express what comes out of the top of our heads. I hate placing fellow human beings in categories and our caste system. Iㅡ."

Ayush scratched the back of his head, "sorry, I feel as though it's my fault."

"Ayush, I know how Paul is. Yes, you were dumb enough to repeat his bull. Still, he should be the one apologizing right now. Where is he, huh? See, Paul thinks he's superior to many, especially black people, and has the impression of serving them by working here. He needs to check his 3rd-grade history lessons because we Indians don't sit anywhere above privilege-wise. If he isn't happy here, he can leave. My father doesn't need someone like him working for him. Sorell is someone who counts. I won't have anyone, even you Ayush diss her."

Ayush nodded; his cousin had always been correct. The Chakrabarati helped a lot of people in their community. They gave jobs in their stores to people with temporary stay papers who other businesses refused to hire. Ravan's family had people's respect, and all imagined the youngest son's return meant a marriage would be at hand.

Many already pictured him with the fairest and most beautiful of Indian beauties—a woman who valued traditions and would nod at every one of her husband's decisions.

None could suspect Ravan's had other plans and the person he had in mind.

"Ravan, my bad, I'll speak with him, okay," Ayush left without waiting for a response.

The weight of Ravan falling on his office chair made the backrest lean. Ravan knew a relationship with Sorell wouldn't be easy. He played various scenarios in his mind concerning how his family and friends would take things, but none added up to reality. The incident with Paul was not huge, but it left a bitter taste.

"Come, Ravan, it's no big deal."

Ravan dated other women, but as he explained to Sorell, he never surpassed a particular stage of his relationships. Not that the women he meant had flaws, they just were not her. Ravan needed a profound connection, both intellectual and emotional. It seemed some women he met wished to rush things without waiting to discover who he was. They wanted to get married straight away. This attitude frightened the man who wondered how it would work out in the long run.

There was them and the others who advocated an open relationship. Ravan was not a traditionalist; still, he was attached to specific values, he hadn't changed much from his younger years. The man didn't have sex for the sake of it, and some women weren't in for the celibate life till marriage. Again for Ravan, the pushy behavior was a red flag, affirming none were the one.

Ravan didn't think wooing Sorell would be a piece of cake, he knew the critics he would face, but he didn't expect Sorell to be an obstacle.

At that moment, Sorell's health was his priority. Even as Ravan organized their Valentine's day date, he had her eating habits in mind. The man left the store an hour later and continued to search for the ideal spot at home while Sorell slept.

10 PM was already too late for the woman who woke at 3:45 AM every morning. The woman didn't think of her date at all. For Sorell, it was just another outing with good old Ravan.

"Wow, who's the lucky guy?" Dounia couldn't help but ask.

Sorell frowned at her intern.

"You booked an event on Wednesday night in your Google calendar."

"Yes, and?"

"Well, it's Valentine's Day," Dounia replied with all the excitement and enthusiasm one could have.

Sorell's lashes fluttered as she lowered them once and twice before saying, "what on earth are you talking about, Dounia? Wednesday is Wednesday."

"It's the 14th, Sorell. It's lovers day."

Sorell giggled nervously, typed a few words, and looked up, "eh, Dounia."

"Yes, Sorell."

"In your era, if a guy," Sorell lowered her gaze, "I mean a man asks you out for Valentine's Day, how do you interpret it?"

Dounia grinned, "well, I would never spend that day with someone I don't care about. So I'd guess the person likes me. Or that he wants to get to know me."

Sorell nodded, "right," she lowered her head typed and lifted it again to find Dounia still grinning on the spot.

"Eh, hmm," Sorell took the most aloof expression to say, "And what if it's a childhood friend?"

Dounia shrugged, "same; he's interested, " she then empathized once more, "It's valentines day, one spends it with the person who counts, and they wish to be with."

"Right, for sure," Sorell lowered her head.

Why on earth did Ravan invite her on valentines day? It was that forsaken day, for goodness sake.

The woman suddenly began to seize the eventual signification of Wednesday's date.

"Girl, you are crazy, Ravan would never," Sorell chuckled, "as if we're talking about Ravan here," she said as she typed.

"Sorell, are you okay?"

"Yeah, Dounia, why?"

"You're speaking to yourself."

"I beg your pardon?"

Dounia wondered if what she was doing was a good thing or not. Sorell's sufficient stare made her choose the latter, "eh, I'm going to go and see if the correspondents have sent anything in for you."

"Okay," Sorell continued to write, but her mind whistled like a boiling kettle.

No, she couldn't go out on that day. She had to cancel. Sorell refused to believe her youth's dream could come true. Her heart accelerated; was Ravan interested in her? No, of course not. Then again, the man hung on to her as though she was a lifejacket.

What was she to do?