With the harebrained scheme to find her missed connection ready to launch, Neela spent her evening at home trying to embody the emotionless guys she'd come to know throughout her life in Toronto: the compartmentalizers.

These organized and efficient compartmentalizing guys could have a 'work wife,' a 'flirty connection' in their rock-climbing club, and many other categories of stimulating women, none of whom ever actually played the role of 'Instagram official girlfriend' or 'legally-binding wife.' These women were the accessories, the add-ons the compartmentalizers seemed to collect like charms on a Pandora bracelet.

At one time or another, Neela had played the role of all of these Pandora charms—with the obvious exception of the rock-climbing one. While she knew it wasn't fair to have a 'guy accessory' whilst also performing the role of 'fiancée,' a part of her felt justified, especially when she remembered Luc's attractive friend from school, the woman with the flowing hair and crisp blue eyes who he always felt the need to keep in touch with.

The more Neela thought about it, the more she realized that maybe Dante was wrong; maybe she wasn't searching for this 'missed connection' because she felt like she'd known him in some inexplicable way that stirred her heart. Maybe she just wanted to have a French male accessory, someone to share some laughs with before going home to her man. Was that so wrong?

These types of 'justification thoughts' were already flooding her brain mere hours after returning home from Dante's apartment, along with a day-drunk hangover she was already regretting.

She stood in the kitchen now, chugging down a glass of water before pouring herself another.

"That's a lot of water," Luc noted from his spot on the couch. "Did you just come back from the desert?" He smirked at his lame-ass joke before returning to his laptop and typing at a steady beat.

"Just sobering up before I FaceTime my parents," she said, her excitement non-existent and water now dribbling down her chin.

"Is that tonight?" he said pouting. "I thought you would be able help me with this introduction; it's the most important part for my big presentation that has to be all in English."

Neela frowned. "I told you I have to call them both tonight because my dad didn't make it yesterday; remember?" His face didn't register any memory of this fact. "And they only have a one-hour window, since they're going to see that Bollywood movie after." The blankness on his face persisted. "It's their first time paying for the full V.I.P. experience," she said chuckling. "They are so excited."

Luc didn't seem to be sharing in her enjoyment, but his blank expression had been replaced with a look of annoyance. "I suppose that means I will need to go hide in the closet or something," he muttered.

"Hey, come on; don't be like that." She went over to the couch and kissed him on the forehead. "I'm going to tell them about you soon; I promise."

His pouty face returned. Followed by a look of worry. "Gahhh!" he cried out.

Neela inched away from his outburst. "Everything okay?"

"I...just...what will I do?! This presentation is for our international team, which means the entire thing will be in English!"

She patted him on the arm. "I know, you kinda mentioned that already; but your English is really good!"

He sighed. "Really good is not going to cut it when I'm being compared against the executives from the UK." He held her hand. "I just really need your help with it tonight."

She nodded. "Sure, fine; I'll just do it after the call with my parents."

She could almost see him clench his teeth. "That is very nice of you to offer, but it is already late and if you help me after the call, I will have to stay up even later to rehearse." He dabbed the area under his eyes. "And I need to look well rested for tomorrow."

Now it was Neela whose teeth were almost visibly clenched. "Okay. Fine. I will ask my parents if I can talk to them tomorrow instead."

He practically leapt off the couch. "Thank you so much!"

Neela shrugged. "Sure...no sweat."

He pulled her into a tight hug. "See? This is why I'm marrying you!" He didn't notice Neela's frown at this terrible reason to get married. "Just let me use the bathroom and then we can get started."

She scrunched her nose. "You didn't eat cheese again did you?"

"Yes of course I did," he replied. "Why do you ask?"

"No reason," she said. "Just uhh...crack the window open after you're done."

As he went off to take care of business, Neela started to realize that she'd gotten herself into a very different business, the business of being at Luc's beck and call.

Right or wrong, it was a realization that made her feel a lot better about launching a covert search to find her mystery métro man...

***

Later that week at the end of a long day, Neela sat uncomfortably in a cramped métro train, clutching a tote bag filled to the brim with groceries. Both Neela and her fellow commuters were lost in the quiet haze of being mentally battered and emotionally exhausted form the various requirements of the day.

The train screeched to halt, arriving at a stop where five riders got out, and impossibly, ten more got on.

Neela clutched her groceries even closer to her body, as a woman's denim-clad butt now grazed the side of her face. This intimate contact definitely wasn't the sort of stuff you read about in dreamy Paris guidebooks, and as Neela angled her face in a strategic fashion so she wouldn't have to make contact with the stranger's ass, her gaze locked in on one of the riders.

A rider who just happened to be a man.

He was only visible from the back, but from the little details she was able to observe, she could see that he was a tall dark-haired man in a pinstriped suit. Neela was certainly not an expert on menswear, but the suit was definitely on the well-made end of the spectrum.

Possible so well made that it belonged to the fashion house Saint Laurent?

In all this time that she'd been carefully studying each detail of the suit, the train arrived at the following stop, and the suited man squeezed his way towards the doors. Despite his movements, she still couldn't see his face from where she was sitting. All he needed to do was turn around just a bit, and she would have the confirmation she so desperately needed.

Just turn around dammit!

His face remained hidden as he crossed the threshold of the train's double doors, and in that moment, without even realizing what she was doing, Neela stood up out of her seat and squeezed past the woman with the denim-clad butt.

The next thing she knew she was hovering in the doorway, peering out onto the platform to see what the man in the pinstriped suit really looked like. He was making his way towards the stairwell now, but he still hadn't turned around.

So naturally she followed him.

It was illogical, rash, and likely a fool's errand, but the tiny possibility that this man could be Antonio spurred her on.

Her steps quickened as she hurried up the stairs to catch up to him. And then, in some sort of karmic retribution, she tripped. It wasn't as bad as Antonio's embarrassing tumble down the stairs, but her upward stumble had resulted in some of the groceries falling out of her bag.

As she scrambled to pick them up, the pinstriped suited man looked back from the top of the stairs.

He wasn't Antonio.

And he didn't rush over to help her.

He simply smirked and tried not to laugh.

Neela quietly gathered the rest of the groceries, trying to restore her grip on reality, and trying her best not to break down and cry.

She was newly engaged for god's sake! To a dashing French man! In Paris!

She should've been over the moon, but a ten-minute interaction with a random man had managed to create a nostalgic ache in the deepest corners of her heart.

And it hadn't even been a week since they'd met.

Neela made her way back down to the platform and waited for the next train.

As she glanced at the board that noted the arrival time, she used the power of her mind to grasp onto the things that were real; which métro line she was on, how many minutes until the next train...yes, she was coming back down to reality now.

Despite her best efforts the logical observations were replaced with a nagging question: how did people know when to take the big 'rest of the life' plunge? And at what point did they stop holding onto the other possibilities in the universe?

For that she didn't have any sort of map, and it definitely wasn't something she knew how to discuss with her conservative Indian parents.

All she could do was trust her gut, but since her gut had been effectively useless of late, she could only hope that her trusted friends with their intelligent brains could maybe, in some small way...help her find the path to a lifetime of happiness.

No pressure guys!