Chapter Twelve
Twelve
Heading to the reception desk, Priya checked Moksha’s voicemail. One message. She listened and then hit Replay.
“Hello, Mr. Solanki,” the caller said. “Jeremy Foster here. I’m following up on the proposal I left with you. My client is eager to close the deal on Moksha. Please call me back at your earliest convenience.”
Jotting down the number, Priya sank back into the chair, tapping her pen against a notepad.
She had to get her father on board with selling Moksha, which meant speeding up Ethan’s departure before the deal disappeared.
She closed her eyes, then sat up sharply.
That’s it! There was an easy way to do this.
One call to the press, tipping them off to Ethan’s whereabouts, and the paparazzi would descend like vultures.
Ethan would have no choice but to leave. It was simple. Foolproof.
But she couldn’t bring herself to do it.
It was too much of a personal betrayal. And deep down, she wanted him to stay.
There was no guarantee she’d ever see him again after he left.
At the same time, she had to think about what this sale would mean for her parents, and not just in terms of financial security.
It was a chance to break free of a cycle that had trapped her family for generations.
As Priya wrestled with her thoughts, her phone buzzed with a call from Brooke. Before she could even say hello, Brooke asked, “Is everything okay with Ethan?”
Priya frowned. “Why?”
“Because he just called me. From inside a casket. To tell me he loves me.”
“That’s sweet.” Priya laughed.
“Sweet? Try bizarre. He sounds like he’s spiraling into some kind of existential crisis. He acts like he doesn’t care, but he’s clearly wrestling some demons, so close to home yet cut off from our father. Do me a favor. Keep an eye on him?”
Priya chuckled to herself. First my parents tell Ethan to keep an eye on me, and now Brooke is asking me to keep tabs on Ethan? Life sure knows how to set up a plot twist.
“I will,” Priya replied. I couldn’t keep my eyes off your brother if I tried, Brooke. “Now tell me what’s going on at your end.”
Brooke launched into stories about her oddball experiences and a potential new romance.
“He’s really into sound baths,” she said. “Always making me lie down while he plays gongs. And don’t even get me started on the sage. He insists we smudge everything with it, including down there, every time we’re together.”
Priya couldn’t stop laughing. “What, like a whole ceremony?”
“Oh yeah. There’s incense, chanting, and enough smoke to get us flagged by Environment Canada.”
They giggled, the conversation light and fun, until Brooke announced, “Oh, crap, I have to go! I’m late for my Paw-lates session with Lady Whiskerbottom.”
“Paw-lates? I’m almost afraid to ask.”
“It’s like Pilates but designed to align your core and your cat’s energy.”
“Ah, the ancient art of holding a plank while your cat silently judges you.”
“Please, Lady Whiskerbottom doesn’t judge. She supervises. Anyway, gotta run. Miss you, Pri!”
“Have fun! Tell your supervisor not to knock over your water bottle,” Priya called out before hanging up.
As she set her phone down, Ethan came out of the showroom, his face wearing a look that said he was on a mission.
“Everything okay?” Priya asked, watching him head straight for the door.
“That remains to be seen.”
“Ethan?” Priya rushed out of the funeral home after him. “What’s going on?
“It’s now or never.” He tugged his hood over his head and began charging down the road toward his father’s home.
Priya jogged to keep up, her breath catching as they approached the entrance to Knight Estates—a pair of imposing gates set into a high brick wall, the family crest gleaming on the ironwork.
A sprawling driveway stretched ahead, framed by sugar maples that guarded the property like ancient sentinels.
A glimpse of the manor, half hidden by trees, stirred a tide of memories for Priya.
She could still see herself wandering its long hallways, sneaking quick looks into Ethan’s room before she got to Brooke’s.
Every detail she’d noticed back then—books on his desk, posters on the wall—had felt like a clue, pieces of a puzzle that fed her infatuation with him.
Standing outside the grounds now, she glanced at Ethan.
The boy she’d once obsessed over had returned a man admired by millions.
But fame had only widened the gap between him and his father, and the iron gate before them was a stark reminder of just how deep the divide ran.
Ethan was about to revisit a home where he was no longer welcome.
Still, he stood, tall and unflinching, giving it yet another shot.
He reached for the brass box mounted on the wall and pressed the call button. Above the intercom, partially hidden by a tangle of ivy, a security camera gleamed in the sunlight. Ethan pulled back his hood and met the camera’s gaze, shoulders squared as he waited.
A faint static crackled from the speaker before a voice came through. “Welcome home, Master Knight.”
“Sebastian.” Ethan recognized the voice immediately and smiled hopefully at Priya. “Still holding things together, I see.”
“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.”
“He is home, 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 father was home, 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.