The longer she stayed at Moksha, the more it felt like a battleground—one determined to wear her down until she gave in.
Five
Priya swung the car door openand stepped out. She reached for the back door, grabbed Mumma’s shawl, and draped it around her shoulders. Moonlight bathed the ground, casting a silver glow over the trees and flower beds. The scent of lilacs hung in the air as Priya gathered her heavy beaded skirt and walked past the edge of the property. She followed the abandoned train tracks until she reached an old freight car, its wheels buried in a sea of withered grass. The doors, long stuck open on either side, let the darkness sweep through its hollow shell, weathered by years of rain and wind.
Priya kicked off her shoes and scaled the side of the car, gripping the familiar rungs like she’d done a hundred times before. Rusty flakes of metal crumbled under her fingers as she pulled herself up. Hoisting herself onto the roof, she took a moment to catch her breath. From her vantage point, the estate nearby was veiled by trees, but its lights still pierced through the darkness. With a weary sigh, she stretched out on the roof, drained by the emotional toll of the night.
The sky unfolded above her, deep and endless, though Priyafound no comfort in its beauty. Her parents believed the stars shaped destiny. Tonight they felt like a cruel joke.
“Fuck you,” Priya flung her words at them. “Fuck you all.” Her voice echoed across the fields, shattering the silence.
“Rough night?” a voice drawled from the shadows.
“Ethan?” Priya jolted upright so fast that she almost tumbled off the roof. “What are you doing here?” He sat a few feet away, barely visible in the dark, his face hidden beneath the shadow of a hoodie.
“Old habits.” He exhaled a cloud of smoke, watching it dissolve into the dark sky. The familiar, pungent smell of weed hit her instantly. “Feels like nothing’s changed, huh?” His eyes flickered from the glowing tip of his joint as he turned to look at her. “You and me meeting by this same beat-up old freight car.”
“Hardly.” She tried to mask the all-too-familiar fluttering of her heart. “You’ve done something with your life, Ethan. Everyone knows your name. I’m still sitting here, exactly where I’ve always been.”
“Right here’s not so bad.” He took a deep drag, gesturing around them—the glow of the moonlit field, the rustle of leaves, the calm hush of the night. “Sure, I’ve chased big dreams, and don’t get me wrong, it’s incredible, but it’s fleeting. Just smoke in the wind.”
“Please, you’re practically a bonfire.”
“A bonfire, huh?” Ethan laughed. “Is that your way of finally admitting you think I’m hot?”
Priya tilted her head, pretending to think it over. “You’re more like a fire hazard, really. Too much heat for anyone’s good.”
“How about alittleheat then? Safe and contained?” He offered her his joint with a playful grin.
“Heathen Knight,” Priya teased. “Still tempting everyone to the dark side.”
Ethan let out a low chuckle. “Heathen Knight…Wow, I haven’t heard that in ages. You’re the only one who ever called me that. And look at you. Still the same good girl, huh?”
Priya didn’t say anything. Instead, she snatched the joint from his hand and took a bold drag, the smoke burning her throat but making her laugh.
“Okay, who are you, and what did you do with Priya?” Ethan grinned.
Blowing the smoke out with a small chuckle, Priya leaned back. “Oh, this is Priya 2.0. Divorced, unemployed, and fresh off a night where I pretty much set the family name on fire.”
“I have to admit, I did not see that coming.” He let out a short laugh. “I mean, when Brooke told me…Priya Solanki, divorced? No way.”
“Here.” Priya passed him the joint. “Might help you process. Deep breaths, Ethan.”
He smiled and took a slow drag, shaking his head.
As they sat together, the night felt strangely nostalgic, like slipping into an old sweater. For a moment, Priya didn’t feel like she was sitting next to someone the entire world seemed to know. She was sitting with Ethan, the boy she’d met right here on these train tracks, in the no-man’s-land between their two homes. She could still see the dust caked on his jeans, the way he held his arm stiffly even as he insisted it was fine, the beautifully messy way he’d burst into her life. The memories hit her all at once, sharp and alive, pulling her back to that day.
Priya stretched out on the roof of the freight car, reading her book. The sun dipped low, casting a golden hue over the field. At nearly twelve, she was starting to realize she was different from other girls her age, girls who didn’t grow up surrounded by death and loss. She loved this time of the day. It was the perfect escape from the funeral home. The roof held the heat of the day but was cool enough to be comfortable.
As the warmth seeped through her bones, a distant roar reached her ears, growing louder as it approached. Priya sat upright and pushed her glasses up her nose. Squinting into the distance, she caught a flash of chrome—a motorcycle barreling toward the freight car at full speed. Priya’s stomach churned with rising panic.
It’s not slowing down.
She wanted to move, to scramble to safety, but her legs felt like lead, frozen in place as she braced herself for the inevitable impact.
No way, no way…
In the split second before disaster struck, the rider yanked the bike into a bone-rattling stop. The tires screeched against the ground, sending a cloud of dust billowing up into the air. As the haze settled, he slowly emerged, streaked with dirt, his hair wild from the wind. When he finally lifted his face, Priya’s breath hitched.
