The café clock seemed to move slower that morning.
Every order I took, every tray I carried to the tables, it was as if time dragged on just to torture me. I could barely focus on the customers—the nervousness about meeting Ravi occupied every space inside my head.
Near lunchtime, my phone vibrated in my apron pocket. My heart raced before I even looked. It was a short message, but enough to leave me breathless:
"My driver is on his way to pick you up. See you soon."
I took a deep breath, trying to keep my expression calm, but inside it was chaos.
I went into the staff changing room, pulled off my wrinkled apron, and walked to the mirror. My nervous fingers tried to tame the loose brown strands, to adjust the bangs that kept falling over my eyes. It didn't help much. The jeans were al
