“No, but—”
“Then it’s just as we thought,” Puppa muttered. “I am reading these headlines as we speak.”
“Hai Ram!” Mumma wailed, her voice spiraling into despair. “What are we supposed to do now?”
Her parents’ voices merged with the calls of the paparazzi, the endless comments, the relentless shutter of cameras. Priya’s heart raced as though she was reliving everything all over again—the chase through the streets, the posts, strangers digging through her life.
“You have gone too far this time, Priya,” Puppa said. “Now the whole world is going after you. And not just you. Moksha has been dragged into this too. Do you know what this will do to our reputation, Priya?” His voice turned cold. “This is what happens when you don’t stay within your limits. Mr. Ethan is used to this. Every day, a new story, a new sensation. But you, Priya. You are out of your league. You think we are being strict, but we are just trying to protect you.”
“Amari vaat maan,” her mother said. Listen to us. “Whatever is going on between you and Mr. Ethan is make-believe, Priya. It may be fun, but it’s just fantasy.”
Mumma’s words hit hard, not because they were harsh but because she was probably right. Priya looked across the table at Ethan—he was unwavering, testing her without a word. It was up to her. Her response could either solidify their future or unravel everything between them. And no matter what she chose to say, someone she loved would pay the price.
Priya gripped the phone tight. “Those photos have been taken out of context and blown way out of proportion,” she said, her voice flat and brittle, so distant it barely sounded like her own. “Ethan and I are just friends.”
For an intense, excruciating moment, Ethan’s gaze burned intohers. Pain and betrayal flashed across his face before he shut down, a wall sliding into place. Priya knew that look well. It was the look he wore outside Knight Estates when his father pretended he wasn’t home. And now she’d put the same anguish in his eyes.
His hand retreated slowly from where it rested on the table. Every part of Priya wanted to reach out and undo the damage, but it was too late. She had finally driven him away, not just out of Moksha but out of her life too.
Ethan turned away as if he could no longer bear to look at her. Her parents’ voices blurred into the background. She mumbled something in reply, wanting only to end the call. The moment she disconnected, a heavy, suffocating silence filled the room. Ethan sat like a statue, his jaw clenched, face unreadable.
“Ethan—”
With a flicker of resolve, he reached for his phone. “Mr. Solanki,” he said, when Priya’s father answered the call. “This is Ethan. I’m afraid word has gotten out about me being at Moksha. It’s also creating problems for you and your family. Given the circumstances, I’ve decided to leave sooner than expected.”
A deep, immovable sadness settled in Priya’s chest. He was closing the door, sealing all possibilities.
“No, please keep the payment,” he added. “I apologize for any problems my presence created. I’ll be leaving tonight, as soon as I arrange a pickup. The sooner I leave, the faster you and your family can move past the media spotlight. Thank you for the kindness you’ve shown me. Please give my regards to Mrs. Solanki.”
As soon as the call ended, Ethan dialed out again. “Zach, I need a ride out of Moksha. Right away.” He listened for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah, I know they’re camped outside. Let’s throw them off like we did in Vegas. Let me know when we’re good to go.”
He shoved his chair back and stood, moving quickly as he gathered his things with quiet, deliberate efficiency. Priya flinched at the swiftness of it, at how completely he shut her out, as if she no longer existed. Grabbing his toiletries from the bathroom, he retreated to the bedroom. When he returned, he had his luggage in tow and headed straight for the door. As he put on his jacket, Priya felt their connection slipping through her fingers.
A hollow ache spread through her as she replayed the moments they had shared. His stubble grazing her cheek at dawn. Nights spent stargazing on the roof of the freight car. Sharing quiet cups of coffee. His laughter filling the silent spaces around her.
“Ethan,” she said, her voice catching.
But Ethan did not once look at her. Not when four identical sedans with tinted windows rolled into Moksha. Not when his bags were loaded into one of the cars, and not when the vehicles sped away in a storm of camera flashes, leading the paparazzi on a wild-goose chase. He did not look at her as she followed him to his motorcycle, nor when he tugged on his gloves and fastened his helmet.
“Ethan,” she tried again. She didn’t know what to say next, only that they could be the last words she ever said to him. But Ethan ignored her. Instead, he clutched the handlebars and began pushing his motorcycle silently toward the open field beyond the train tracks.
“Ethan!” she cried out, her voice cracking with desperation.
He still did not turn around. He moved steadily past the freight car, disappearing gradually into the dusk. Priya stared after his silhouette until darkness consumed it entirely. Only when he was safely out of range of any remaining press did his engine come alive. The sound echoed briefly through the air, then receded, until there was nothing left but silence.
Priya stood motionless, her mind flashing back to the first time she had watched him disappear into that field. Eventually, she forced herself to move, retracing her steps to the coach house. She grabbed a flashlight and walked to the funeral home, her footsteps echoing through the empty corridors. Shadows twisted and bent as the beam of light cut through the gloom. Her breath faltered when she entered the casket showroom. The casket Ethan had rested in seemed to call her.
Priya climbed inside and turned off her flashlight. Darkness settled around her. Whoever said it was better to have loved and lost had never lived through this kind of grief—raw, searing, and inescapable. She wasn’t just mourning the end of her relationship with Ethan. She was mourning herself, too—the version of her who had dared to dream of more. That part of her was now buried under the weight of failure. And here she was, laying down her arms, finding comfort in the very place that had been waiting to claim her.
Twenty-Six
The media attentiondidn’t die down just because Ethan left. Two days later, when Mumma and Puppa returned from their trip, the press greeted them with flashing lenses. They continued to hover even as the renovation crew began work on the funeral home.
With the main building undergoing repairs and the power still out at the apartment, the coach house turned into a temporary home for the Solanki family. Priya shut herself inside, keeping the curtains tightly drawn. From dawn until dusk, she buried herself in her freelance work and online classes, as though the steady tap of the keyboard could drown out thoughts of Ethan. But once night came, and she settled on the couch, the hollow ache beneath her ribs stretched wide and raw. It was there on that very couch that Ethan had first kissed her. The memory was like a blade twisting sharper with every breath.
Priya reminded herself that she had lived through heartbreak before. Her divorce from Manoj had been tough, but she’d managed to pick up the pieces and move on. Losing Ethan, though, cut far more painfully. It wasn’t simply that her feelings for him were stronger. It was the fact that with Ethan, she’d felt like shewas on the verge of something extraordinary, something beyond the boundaries she’d always known. But the part she could hardly bear was knowing she’d deeply hurt him. That guilt gnawed at her more than the loss itself. Whenever her mind wandered back to Ethan, she saw the wounded look in his eyes. The memory alone stole her breath.
And unlike her divorce from Manoj, Priya had no space to grieve in private. She had to maintain a facade of normalcy for her parents. She nodded in all the right places, forced a hollow smile, and went through the motions even though she felt numb inside. Her parents welcomed this subdued, agreeable version of their daughter. They seemed to readily accept that her involvement with Ethan had been exaggerated by the media. Priya sensed that even if they had their doubts, they were relieved the experience had served as a sobering reminder to stay within her limits.
