Priya’s heart began pounding wildly. Her anonymity was crumbling in real time. Another post popped up, the user hitting a dead end while trying to trace the bike’s license plate, but disclosing an interesting discovery: “Ethan Knight’s bike was signed for by Priya Solanki at Moksha Funeral Home.”
Her personal information was making the rounds: age, religion, cultural background, the schools she’d attended, the company she founded. Even her ex, Manoj, was dragged into the fray. Every piece of her life was suddenly fair game for public examination. Her friendship with Brooke, too, was twisted into a calculated scheme to cozy up to Ethan. One comment in particular caught Priya off guard in a way she hadn’t expected:She’s bad luck, Ethan. Run while you can.
The words of this stranger triggered something in her, memories of her parents’ stories, of a time when even the shadow of a Dalit was thought to be unlucky, a harbinger of misfortune. She’ddismissed those tales as distant history, something that could never touch her life. Now the weight of history didn’t feel quite so abstract. It felt real and alive, breathing down her neck.
As past and present collided, with comments rolling in faster than she could process, Priya’s mind raced with comebacks. She wanted to push back, to shout,You don’t know me!But another part whispered,What’s the point?Her parents had always warned her.
Don’t reach too high.
Don’t think too big.
Don’t dream beyond your station.
She hadn’t listened. Being with Ethan had made her feel unstoppable, as if she could take on anything. Now she wasn’t so sure. She shrank into herself, wishing she could vanish completely, fade into a shadow where no one could see or judge her. Had she been too reckless, too naïve?
Priya looked up from her screen to Ethan. His face was tight with frustration as he argued on the phone.
“I don’t care if it jeopardizes the release,” he said. “Iknowthey want to spin a romance with Sienna to boost the marketing campaign, but I’m not postponing the announcement. If anyone’s got a problem with it, they know where to reach me.” He hung up, pacing the floor like a caged lion.
His screen lit up again before he’d even caught his breath. “What now?” he snapped, his tone all steel. “Sure, I confronted the guy, but assault? Seriously?” Ethan dragged a hand through his hair. “The bruise is probably from his own camera hitting him…Yeah, I grabbed his camera…I don’t remember the exact words. Maybe Ididmake a threat. You know what? Have my lawyer handle it.”
Priya’s stomach twisted. Ethan was catching heat all because of her. Maybe her parents were right—maybe some things werelike a cosmic loop she couldn’t break. And she’d tried. God, she’d tried. She’d thrown herself into escape after escape, desperate for something that felt like freedom. Somehow, all roads circled right back to Moksha. Every move she made to step away from it had ended in disappointment and failure.
Calgary.
My marriage.
The company.
The last ten years of my life.
And now Ethan was being dragged into her mess, forced to deal with the fallout of her choices. Everything pointed to the same truth:Shewas the common denominator. There was no denying it anymore. She really was bad luck.
Her phone buzzed without stopping. Deepa. Brooke. Manoj. Dozens of unknown numbers stacking on top of one another in a rising tide. Someone had leaked her number. Priya’s chest felt tight, her hands weirdly cold, and for a moment, she felt like she might crawl out of her skin.
Make it stop. Make it stop. Make it—
And then…nothing.
Instead of going over the edge, Priya shut down. Everything around her dulled and blurred. It was as if her brain had pulled an emergency lever. She sat there, physically present, while the rest of her backed into a corner somewhere inside herself and curled up. And in that weird, numb stillness, only one thought remained:I have to walk away from Ethan before I cause him any more harm.
“Pri.” Ethan’s voice sliced through the fog in her mind. She blinked, trying to focus as he muted his phone and sat across from her. “We have to go public earlier than anticipated.”
Priya sat perfectly still, feeling like she was watching someone else in her place.
“There’s a gala tomorrow,” Ethan continued. “We’ll go together, but we need to talk to your parents so they’re not blindsided. I’ll forward you a draft of my statement. We’ll also have to prep for press questions. I’ve lined up some interviews to take control of the story.”
She nodded slowly, almost automatically, her numbness starting to splinter. A slow ache bloomed in her chest. Galas, press statements, interviews—all things and places where she didn’t belong. For a brief moment, she’d thought she’d finally found her place—right there, beside Ethan—but in only a few hours, the world had bulldozed its way between them, stripping her of all illusions. Ethan belonged among the stars—and she couldn’t risk doing anything that would taint his future.
“Are you listening, Pri?” Ethan asked.
She was, but it felt like the words were landing on a version of her that was already slipping out of reach.
“I can’t do this,” she whispered, her throat tight.
Ethan stilled, then reached for her hand, threading his fingers through hers. “I know it’s a lot,” he said, his voice softer now. “It’s fast, and unfair, and overwhelming. But we don’t have a choice.” He lifted her chin until their eyes locked. “My team’s already in motion. Hair, makeup, wardrobe. Whatever you need. You just need to show up. I’ll handle everything else, including the gala stuff.”
“It’s not just the gala,” Priya said, her voice full with emotion. “It’s the whole thing. I’m not made for this, Ethan. I can’t be in this…with you.” The words tasted bitter on her tongue, and she felt her heart crumbling piece by piece.
