4. Vas

4

VAS

I 'd gotten to Vivo's early enough to secure a prime table. The staff would have made space for me whenever I needed it, even if it meant bringing out a table and chairs when the place was packed, but I preferred not to be a bother and flaunt being an investor in the company, or rather, a silent partner.

Whenever I found a promising startup, I invested in it, and I didn't limit myself to software—cars, clothing, furniture, and, yes, even coffee. I was a creature of comfort, and I knew what I liked.

The rich aroma of freshly ground beans filled the air as I settled into a cozy corner booth. Soft jazz played in the background, creating a relaxed atmosphere, and the warm, amber lighting cast a gentle glow over the polished wooden tables and plush leather seats.

Naturally, I hadn't told my parents about my side hustle investments. My father would have rolled his eyes, and my mother would have sighed at my self-indulgence, but I wasn't going to live for more than six months in any one place without being able to access my favorite coffee. True, I could always order the beans and make the coffee at home on my La Marzocco, but I loved the ambiance of this coffee shop. And as Vivo's was expanding, it wasn't hard to find someone who wanted to open a franchise. All I needed to do was front funds to expedite the process.

Yes, it had occurred to me that I was ridiculously spoiled. I didn't care, not when it came to my coffee. Martine, the owner, was more than grateful for my assistance, and it looked like I'd make a pretty penny off my initial investment, so it was a win-win for us and another win for the good-coffee-loving folks of the town.

I considered ordering iced coffee for Jenna but held back. She might prefer something with less caffeine this late. I wished she'd agreed to go to dinner instead, but I couldn't fault her for not feeling comfortable with the level of familiarity with a student that would have implied.

Never mind that I hoped to be far more than her student, but that was impossible for reasons I didn't want to dwell on.

When Jenna came through the door, she immediately saw me and smiled. The sight of her eyes brightening just because she was looking at me was—well, it was something I couldn't take the time to properly contemplate because she was beside me a moment later, setting her bag down with a grateful sigh.

"I hope you weren't waiting long," she said, a slight flush coloring her cheeks.

"Not at all," I replied automatically, years of forced politesse coming to the fore. "Thank you for meeting me here. May I get you a drink?"

"Hmm." She glanced up at the menu on the far wall, her blue eyes scanning the options. "A large cappuccino would be fantastic."

"Give me just a moment." I got up and placed the order, tipping the barista another twenty as I did so. The girl beamed and got to work, and a minute later, I had a delicious-smelling cappuccino to place down in front of Jenna, as well as a biscotti in case she was a little hungry.

"Thank you so much." She took a sip and closed her eyes in bliss. "Oh, that's heavenly."

"It's very good," I said weakly, momentarily distracted by the contentment on her beautiful face. "This is my favorite coffee shop."

"I can see why." She refocused on me, the veil of professionalism falling between us. "So, talk to me about Aladdin. What do you like most about the story?"

Right to business, then.

Well, I could work with that. "I appreciate that the main character has to resolve all sorts of difficulties to live the life he wants and that he succeeds in the end."

"Hmm." She nodded, her fingers absently tracing the rim of her cup. "Some interpretations would say that he gets a huge leg up by having the genie—or genies, depending on your version—do so much of the work for him."

"But he has to find the genies in the first place," I pointed out. "And then when the lamp is lost, he and his wife have to work together to get it back."

"Yes, this story has a very active central female character for the period. What else do you like about it?" Jenna took another sip from her cappuccino.

I rubbed a hand over the back of my neck and smiled sheepishly. "Robin Williams?"

She laughed, but in a way that indicated understanding. "You like the Disney version?"

"Well, yes. I think it's pretty great. It came out when I was a little boy, and it was one of the first movies I remember seeing in a theater."

"I've never seen it on the big screen, but I've seen it plenty of times on the small one. I like it a lot." She nodded thoughtfully, a strand of blonde hair falling across her forehead. "Would you want to place your story in an Arabic country?"

"I'm not sure. The original refers to everything happening in China."

"Isn't that interesting?" Jenna said, and I found myself completely agreeing with her even though, just moments ago, it hadn't been interesting in the slightest. "If I remember correctly, in the period that the original was written, 'China' was shorthand for a faraway land."

"Really?" I didn't know that. "That's fascinating. It makes me wonder about how our perceptions of 'far away' have changed over time."

Jenna's eyes lit up. "Exactly! It's a great example of how literature can give us insight into historical perspectives. Have you considered incorporating that idea of shifting perceptions into your retelling?"

We ended up talking for a solid hour, discussing everything about the story of Aladdin—its history and provenance, its themes, its characters—everything except what I was going to do with it. The conversation flowed effortlessly, punctuated by laughter, and shared excitement over a new idea or interpretation.

When Jenna's phone chimed, she checked it with a frown. "I'm so sorry, Vas, but I'm going to have to end things here tonight. I have a bus to catch."

It was on the tip of my tongue to offer her a lift, but in the end, I didn't. "All right. Can we meet again next Thursday and continue our discussion?"

Jenna looked a bit surprised, and she hesitated, but then her eyes softened, and a small smile played at the corners of her mouth. "Do you think you'll be clearer on the direction you want to take things by then?"

"I might be."

I just want to talk with you . The thought came unbidden, and I pushed it away.

"Then, of course we can. I'd be delighted."

"Here again?" I asked before she could take it back, trying not to sound too eager.

"Same time, same place," she affirmed with another smile. "Thank you again for the coffee and for the conversation. I really enjoyed it."

"My pleasure, Jenna."

She blushed as she picked up her bag, and as I watched her go, I wondered, not for the first time, if it would be worth pursuing something with her. She was by far the most interesting of my acquaintances in this town, and she was beautiful, well-educated, intelligent, and kind.

But I didn't want to lead her on.

I wasn't a free agent, able to be with whoever I liked. I was, in fact, firmly spoken for and had been for over a decade.

The fact that Sonu and I were not married yet was because she was finishing up her residency in the UK. I made sure that the family business took me very far away from there to buy myself time, but her residency would be over in a mere month and a half, and then we would be getting married in a very grand, lavish affair.

I dreaded that day.

It wasn't that I didn't like Sonu. She was a wonderful woman, chosen with care by my parents as was customary in my country for people of my caste, but I felt nothing but friendship for her.

If I had a genie, my first wish would be to take me away from this life and give me my heart's desire. Whether that was Jenna or not, I didn't know, and it wasn't fair to either of us for me to find out, given the circumstances.

As I left Vivo's, the warmth of the coffee shop giving way to the cool evening air, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was walking away from something important. The city lights twinkled around me, but they seemed dim compared to the sparkle in Jenna's eyes when she talked about literature.

As I made my way to my car, my steps were heavy with the weight of expectations and duty. Sliding into the driver's seat, I caught a glimpse of myself in the rearview mirror, and the man staring back at me looked successful, put-together, and utterly trapped.

With a sigh, I started the engine. The purr of the luxury car did nothing to soothe the restlessness in my soul. As I drove home, I couldn't help but wonder whether I was Aladdin in the story of my life, or was I the genie bound by the expectations of others?

The answer, I feared, was all too clear.