“Still standing, Master Knight, tall as a spruce,” Sebastian replied with a touch of humor.
“I’m here to see my father,” Ethan stated.
“Of course, sir. One moment while I check if he’s available.”
A long silence followed. Ethan rubbed the back of his neck and stared at his feet as they waited. Priya picked at a loose thread on her sleeve, her eyes flicking between Ethan and the speaker. When Sebastian finally returned, there was a faint hesitation in his tone. “I’m afraid Mr. Knight is not home.”
Ethan’s jaw tensed, his eyes snapping toward the camera. “I see,” he said. “Please let my father know I’d like permission to visit my mother’s grave.”
Another pause, shorter this time, before Sebastian replied, “By all means, sir.”
The gates opened with a low groan. Ethan glanced at Priya. “You coming?”
Without a word, she fell into step beside him, matching his pace as they walked up the driveway. Halfway to the manor,Ethan turned onto the path leading to his family’s burial plot. After a few minutes, the path sloped gently to a clearing, where polished headstones lined carefully tended paths.
Ethan’s pace slowed as they approached his mother’s grave. He sank to his knees when they reached the tombstone, his fingers tracing the letters with a tenderness that stirred an ache in Priya’s chest. She stood silently, feeling the storm of emotions he was struggling to hold back. Once again, she caught a glimpse of the boy beneath the man. A boy who had endured the kind of heartbreak no one should ever have to bear.
“It wasn’t your fault, Ethan,” she said softly, resting her hand on his shoulder.
“If I’d just come home when I was supposed to, she wouldn’t have been out picking me up,” he said. “She wouldn’t have been in that truck’s path.”
Priya’s heart sank. He was still holding himself responsible for the accident that killed his mother. She could hear the ache in his voice, see it carved into his face.
“My dad blames me too,” Ethan said after a moment, his voice quieter. “He’s never come out and said it, but I can feel his anger, his resentment. I didn’t just lose my mom because of the accident. I lost my dad too. Every meal, every moment in that house was unbearable. I was in so much pain, I gave him more reasons to hate me and fled the first chance I got. He may have forgiven me for turning my back on the plans he had for me, but he’s never going to forgive me for my mother’s death. That’s why he refuses to see me.”
“You don’t know that, Ethan,” Priya said, a wave of sadness washing over her. “I’m sure he would have seen you if he was home.”
“Heishome, Pri,” Ethan murmured, his voice strained. “Brooke said he’s here. I thought if I showed up, he would…” The words caught in his throat. “But nothing’s changed. And I don’t blame him for shutting me out. I’ll never forgive myself either.”
Priya squeezed Ethan’s shoulder. Until he found a way to reconcile with his father, Ethan would keep carrying this burden. Nothing could ease the pain of his mother’s death, especially when he believed his father held him responsible too. Priya stepped back, allowing him some privacy. Her gaze drifted across the sprawling grounds around her. The manor stood a short distance away, its walls softened by ivy curling up toward the second-story windows.
Ethan knelt by the grave, head bowed as his fingers brushed the soil. After a while, he wandered into the meadow around the cemetery and picked a handful of wildflowers. When he returned, he placed them gently on his mother’s grave. Against the carefully curated surroundings, his small offering stood out—simple and raw.
As Ethan turned to head back toward Priya, she caught movement in one of the windows. A curtain shifted and Priya spotted Harry Knight—Brooke and Ethan’s father—before it fell back into place. Ethan had been right all along. His fatherwashome, watching from the shadows.
Priya thought about her own parents. They sometimes drove her crazy, but she’d rather deal with their constant interference than ever endure this kind of cold rejection.
As she walked with Ethan toward the exit, the iron gates swung open. Ethan paused at the threshold, turning for one last look at the manor. In that quiet moment, Priya knew: He wasn’t coming back here.
When they reached the sidewalk, Ethan tugged his hood around his face and stuffed his hands into his jacket. The irony wasn’t lost on Priya. Ethan had to hide from strangers who adored him but was shunned by his own father. He had the world at his feet, while the one thing he needed the most remained beyond his grasp.
Matching his stride, Priya threaded her arm through Ethan’s. He glanced at her, then pulled her hand into his pocket, his fingers lacing with hers. Together they walked back to Moksha. As cars zoomed by, Priya had a fleeting taste of an alternate reality—one where Ethan wasn’t the larger-than-life celebrity, and she wasn’t the ordinary girl next door. They were simply two people walking hand in hand down the street.
Priya held on tightly to the moment, squeezing Ethan’s hand as though her grip could freeze time—stop it from slipping away like sand through her fingers.
Thirteen
That afternoon,from their vantage point on top of the freight car, Priya and Ethan had a panoramic view of the field that separated Moksha from Knight Estates. The sky was overcast, but shafts of sunlight broke through. As Priya soaked it all in, her phone buzzed with a call from her parents.
“Hello again,” she answered.
“I forgot to ask,” her mother said. “How’s Mr. Ethan enjoying the food? Everything okay?”
Priya glanced at Ethan as he dipped a samosa into tamarind chutney. He took a bite and closed his eyes, a look of pure satisfaction on his face.
“Everything is perfect,” Priya replied, scanning the rooftop spread.
There was paneer tikka, marinated in spiced yogurt and charred to perfection, a fragrant pulao sprinkled with cashews and raisins, a vegetable curry, and, of course, the samosas that Ethan was enjoying.
