As she made her way back to the conservatory, she noticed the library door slightly ajar. Priya paused. It had been strictly off-limits during her visits as a child. Harry Knight’s office was in there—and she’d always wondered what it looked like. Driven by curiosity, she stepped inside.
The scent of old books and worn leather filled the room, giving it a sense of history and quiet dignity. Towering shelves surrounded her, filled with books, souvenirs, and personal mementos. Sunlight trickled through tall windows, catching theedges of glass-framed photographs—Ethan’s parents, along with Brooke and Ethan, through different phases of life. A row of trophies caught Priya’s eye, and she reached for one, reading the inscription engraved on its base.
“Those belonged to Ethan,” a voice broke the stillness.
Startled, Priya turned to see Brooke and Ethan’s father rising from a leather chair. He approached her slowly, his presence filling the room.
“My wife collected them all,” he said, his voice soft. “Rebecca had a sentimental heart, always celebrating the kids’ milestones and achievements.” He took the trophy from Priya and returned it to its place, exactly where his wife had left it.
“Sorry,” Priya said. “I didn’t mean to intrude.”
“Not at all.” Harry offered a faint smile. “You’re our guest today.”
The emphasis ontodayhit Priya hard. The last time she’d visited Knight Estates, it had been with Ethan, and they hadn’t exactly been greeted with open arms.
“It would’ve meant a lot to Ethan if you had welcomed him that day,” Priya blurted out, unable to hold back even though she knew she was treading on dangerous ground.
“It would have meant a lot tomeif Ethan hadn’t left the way he did,” Harry said sharply. “If he’d kept his word and gone to college instead of putting himself first.”
Priya refused to back down. “Mr. Knight, your son was running from the guilt he carried after your wife’s death. He blamed himself for his mother’s accident.” She drew a slow breath and met his gaze head-on. “He thought you blamed him too, and it nearly destroyed him.”
Harry’s expression wavered for an instant, an almost imperceptible wince, as though Priya had struck a nerve.
“You were so consumed by your own grief, you didn’t stop to see what it was doing to Ethan,” she continued. “He followed the path you laid out because he thought he owed it to you. But he got tired of chasing after something you wouldn’t give—your approval, your forgiveness—so he set out to prove himself without it.”
Harry remained silent, taking in her words.
Priya’s voice softened. “Ethan has tried to reach out to you many times, but each time you turned him away. He wasn’t here just to visit his mother’s grave. He wanted to see you too. But once again, you rejected him. I doubt he’ll ever try again. It’s up to you now. You can either keep things the way they are…” Her finger traced the dusty surface of the trophy. “Or start making changes.” She shifted it slightly in a small but deliberate gesture.
Before she left the room, Priya paused and looked over her shoulder. “For what it’s worth, I think your wife would have wanted you to mend things with your son. She’d be devastated knowing her death drove this wedge between the two of you. She’d want you to show up—for both your kids.”
As Priya walked out, a long, steady breath escaped her lips. She had sown the seeds and could only hope that they took. There was no changing the past, but perhaps there was still a chance for Harry and Ethan. She straightened her shoulders and walked back to the conservatory. Life with all its messiness kept moving forward.
Thirty
When Priya returnedto Moksha, she spotted a few cars still parked outside.
That’s odd, she thought, letting herself in through the side entrance, her mind still replaying the conversation with Ethan’s dad.
As she climbed the stairs, a memory surfaced—of leading Ethan up these very stairs when he’d shown up with Brooke. Her hand instinctively sought out the star pendant at her neck, a bittersweet reminder that somehow still grounded her. At the top, she slipped off her shoes and entered the apartment with a soft sigh.
“There you are!” Puppa called, sounding overly cheerful.
Priya stepped into the living room and froze. Her parents sat on the couch with a man who looked vaguely familiar, though she couldn’t place him.
“We have guests, beta.” Mumma smiled tensely, gesturing toward a chair across from the couch.
Priya followed the direction of her mother’s gaze and froze when she saw Ravi Tiwari seated in the corner. Before she could recover, Puppa chimed in.
“Look who else is here.” Puppa nodded pointedly at another chair.
Manoj swiveled around in his chair and gave her an awkward wave.
Priya blinked, stunned.Is this some kind of ambush? A guy from my childhood, who still seems to carry a torch, and my ex-husband sitting together in my parents’ living room? She glanced between Ravi and Manoj, trying to make sense of the moment.
“And this is Dinesh Verma,” Puppa explained, motioning toward the stranger. “We met him at Vinod Uncle’s.”
The name landed, and Priya connected the dots. This was the guy in the photo Deepa had sent—the one her parents were trying to set her up with.
