Upon Jonas's return from Dijon, something changed.

He was still the nice and charming man he was before visiting the Gauthiers, but a little more distant. For Sierra's sake, Jonas avoided giving details about his stay at La Villa Verde.

 The situation facilitated things for Sierra, who found herself continually daydreaming about Vincent.

The mixed emotions she harbored triggered her wish to see Vincent, who remained the man of her life. Seeing and touching Jonas's body awoke dormant desires.

Also, the woman wished to eat Vincent's food. She had not been to the Taj Mahal since the breakup. She wondered how the man was but also if his biryani was still as tasty.

Every time Sierra's mind wandered off with unlawful feelings towards her roommate Vincent's face and Tikka Masala came to the rescue breaking the spell.

"Jonas."

"Yes, Sierra."

"Can I ask you a favor?"

"Yes," Jonas answered without turning away from his computer screen.

"Don't you ever say no?"

"Not when I don't need to," Jonas replied.

"Can you run an errand for me?"

"Yes."

"It's nothing big I just need you to order something in a restaurant," Sierra added.

"Don't they have delivery?"

"They do, but-."

"Nevermind."

Sierra's resignation caught the man's attention. Jonas turned away from his simulation to face her, "why do you want me to go?"

Sierra sighed, "I want to eat cheese naan, palak paneer, lamb vindaloo, with some good old basmati rice."

"Why don't you go?"

"I can't."

The man rose a brow, "why?"

"Because."

"Because of what?"

"Jonas, I thought you said you were okay with doing me a favor."

"The favor seems suspicious. I think I'll pass."

"Alright, alright."

"The Taj Mahal is Vincent's restaurant."

Jonas's brows flexed in a frown before his gaze light up," Vincent, you mean your Ex."

"Yes."

"Why don't you just order?"

"Because I need your eyes."

"My eyes?"

"Yes."

Jonas crossed his arms, "so basically, you want me to go and get your takeaway to spy on your Ex."

Guilt hashtagged itself on Sierra's forehead, "I know it's indecent, but I-."

"Okay."

"Okay, what?"

"I'll go and see how your Ex is doing."

"The foods more important, Jonas."

Jonas rolled his gaze to the side, "I bet it is."

Sierra cocked a brow and crossed her arms, "do you know you just said it out loud, and I heard you?"

"Yes, I did it on purpose."

"You know sometimes lying makes the other feel better. I mean, if you don't want to do this-."

Jonas felt Sierra punished him. Since he took Leone to see the Gauthiers, the woman's behavior towards him changed. Sierra avoided him; the complicity they built crumbled.

Never had Jonas regretted one of his actions as much as then. The man recognized it was an error, but Sierra appeared to hold a grudge.

"I said I'll help you. I'll do it; it's just I think you should grab your phone and tell the man you miss him and you wish to see him instead of scheming like some desperate housewife from some American sitcom."

Sierra opened her mouth and unreleased a horrified expression, "don't you think you're exaggerating."

"No. You see, the problem with most women is you take the roundabout. We men are straightforward. We don't like the twists and knots."

"Pff, are you lecturing me?"

Jonas got up and walked to the door.

"What are you doing?"

"Don't you want your lamb vindaloo? I see my cuisine isn't good enough," the man said as he slipped his feet into his grey and white 574 New Balance.

"Oh Jonas, no, you're a wonderful cook, really."

The man laughed, "I'm kidding Sierra. I think I'll get myself something too. I didn't know what to cook tonight anyway."

"So you're not vexed?"

"Of course not. It's what roommates do, right?"

A weak smile sketched on Sierra's face, "yeah, it's what roommates do."

Jonas put on his navy pea-jacket and left.

Sierra picked up Leone, opened the door, and ran to the lift. Leone giggled; he enjoyed the little sprint, "Jonas, the money," Sierra said in front of the closing lift doors.

The man shrugged, and the elevator went down.

Sierra returned to the apartment. She put Leone on the couch only to see the baby climb down and crawl to Jonas's computer.

"No, Leone ne touche pas. [don't touch]."

Leone turned and looked at her with a mischievous gaze while his finger threatened to press on the keyboard.

"Leone, no."

"Na."

"No, no, Leone."

"Na, nan."

Sierra scooped him up, "Leone, your dad will be mad." Sierra stopped and looked at what gradually appeared on the screen. It looked like a luxury cabin in the woods, "wow, your dad is talented, Leone, Look."

The conception was still fascinating to see, even if it was just a simulation. Jonas spent hours working on different projects and making calls.

The woman was impressed every time she heard him speak in his native language. The tone of his voice was sharp, and the words came out chopped and rapid. What struck Sierra was Jonas's time management. He knew strictly when to stop working and when he did, he dedicated a hundred percent of his attention to Leone and even her.

He never replied to a call or a text when they ate, went out. On the other hand, Sierra continually glanced at her phone or excused herself from taking what she thought was urgent calls for work. If one accused her of being rude, it was all about the status for Sierra. The man was self-employed. Thus he had the leisure while she still had to bend and do curtsey to her bosses.

Jonas arrived at the address. Sierra omitted to say one needed to take the railway to get there. The place looked clean from the outside. Jonas was impatient to enter; the man wanted to see what type of man tickled Sierra's fancy. He pushed open the door, and a heatwave of exotic scents hit his nostrils.

"Bonsoir, Bienvenue au Taj Mahal," greeted an Indian woman in an orange shirt and black pencil skirt.

"Bonsoir."

"A table for one?"

"No, take away."

The woman went to fetch a menu and oriented Jonas towards the counter.

Vincent counted the till while Saad came to take the order.

"Good evening, What will you have, sir?"

"Do you have lamb vindaloo, basmati rice? Oh, I can't remember the last. Cheese naan, can you just give me a sec. I need to check the last name." Jonas took out his phone and dialed, "hello, Sierra, what's the other dish you wanted?"

Even though they weren't sure they heard right Saad and Vincent exchanged a glance.

"Palak paneer, okay. Do you have a palak paneer?"

"We do, but we're out of lamb for the vindaloo."

"Sierra, the guy says there's no lamb for the vindaloo. Tikka masala, okay," Jonas's gaze shifted across the cash desk to where Vincent stood with a bleak expression.

"Yes," Jonas replied.

Vincent began to advance, and Jonas said yes once more.

"Sierra, I better leave you," Jonas said as Saad stepped back to let Vincent take his place.

Jonas hung up, and the man stared at each other as if they were going for a face-off.

Vincent grinned, "will that be all, Sir?"

"I'll have a chicken biryani for me. Do you do desserts?"

"Yes, of course."

"What do you have?"

"It's in the menu," Vincent said blatantly.

There were many Sierra's on earth. Perhaps the man came for another woman, yet Vincent could not shake off the idea his Sierra Jonas spoke to over the phone. Vincent's eyes roamed on Jonas's silhouette. The man almost had a head level above.

They were opposites in every physical aspect. Skin, hair, eyes, and stature Sierra reinvented her preferences, Vincent thought. The man tried to maintain Jonas's presence, and the fact he called out her name was a mere coincidence.

"I'll have a Ney Appam, please."

And what was this accent? Vincent thought.

"Will that be all?"

"Yes, thank you."

"It will be thirty-five euros seventy-five, please."

Jonas dug his hand in his jean pocket. Vincent waited to see a card, but instead, Jonas handed him thirty-seven euros in cash.

"Everything will be ready in twenty minutes. If you want, we can deliver instead of having you wait."

Jonas sketched a cynical smile and tapped his fingers on the counter, "I'm already here. I can wait."

"Have a seat," Vincent said with a crisped smile.

Jonas sat at the table reserved for takeaways while Vincent and Sadd entered the kitchen.

"Do you think he's buying for her?"

"No, it's not Sierra's style to send someone," Vincent answered as he tried to convince himself more than Saad.

Jonas did not know what Sierra's type of man was in the present, but he did expect the man to be smart and neat like Vincent.

Without knowing him, one could tell Vincent was someone meticulous. He had the same aura as a banker. The man almost looked out of place in the restaurant's decor.

Behind the scene's Saad began to make the order.

"Make the dessert, I'll do the tikka," Vincent said. The man decided to believe it was his Sierra who ordered. He prepared the dish with love.

"Here you go," Vincent said, handing the bag to Jonas. He hesitated a second. The temptation to ask if it were Sierra who ordered was strong still the man let go.

"Thanks."

Jonas took the bag and left.