Chapter Twenty Three
Twenty-Three
Priya had grown used to the warmth of Ethan’s arm draped around her waist as she slept.
Stirred by a faint sound, her eyes fluttered open.
The room took shape in hazy shadows, the soft glow from the hallway casting a dim light across the floor.
Seeing nothing out of place, she closed her eyes.
But the noise came again. A creaking sound from near the window.
Priya grabbed her glasses and squinted into the shadows. As her sight adjusted, she made out a faint movement. The rocking chair in the corner moved, back and forth. Priya’s pulse quickened as a figure began to materialize on the chair.
No way… A chill prickled her skin. Did I actually summon Bhooa masi with my fake ghost story?
The woman rocked slowly, her face shifting in and out of the hallway’s dim light. Priya’s gaze climbed to her face, and she froze in horror. It wasn’t Bhooa masi at all. It was her own face staring back at her.
Trapped in a bizarre situation where she was both the observer and the observed, Priya was hit by a sudden jolt of dread. She snapped awake, gasping sharply as the terrifying dream faded away.
“Pri, you okay?” Ethan’s voice was groggy as his hand found hers.
She glanced at the chair, her heart slowing when she saw it was empty.
“I had a bad dream,” she whispered, her voice shaky.
Ethan gathered her in his arms. “It’s just your brain playing tricks. Right before we went to bed, you pointed out that the circle of salt around the bed is broken. That’s probably what triggered it. Christ, your heart is pounding like crazy.”
“It felt so real.”
“I know, but you’re safe,” Ethan murmured, rocking her gently. “Everything’s all right.”
But everything was not all right. Priya had come face-to-face with her own guilt for spinning lies to scare Ethan away.
He might not know the truth, but she couldn’t hide it from herself.
Her conscience was right there, watching, judging, keeping her awake the rest of the night.
Yet there was no point in confessing now.
By the time dawn broke, Priya was desperate for distraction.
“Let’s go for a bike ride today,” she suggested as soon as Ethan was up. “A long drive through the back roads.”
“Sounds perfect,” Ethan said, resting a hand on her hip. “But you need the right gear. The helmet we ordered online is too loose.”
“And how exactly are we going to manage that without you being recognized every five steps?”
Ethan grinned, a knowing glint in his eyes. “Oh, let’s just say I know a place where no one will bother us.”
The parking lot was empty when Ethan and Priya arrived, the shops yet to open. Morning light spilled over the plaza, casting long shadows across the pavement. Nestled in a quiet neighborhood away from the main roads, it had a peaceful, almost nostalgic vibe.
“It hasn’t changed one bit,” Ethan said, taking in the motorcycle shop before them.
Flanked by a car repair garage on one side and a convenience store on the other, the store’s sign was faded from years of exposure to the sun.
“This is where I got my first helmet.” Ethan’s eyes softened. “The owner runs the garage too. He helped me fix my dad’s bike after I crashed it. Wonder if he’s still around.”
Just then, the shop’s Closed sign flipped to Open.
Priya hopped off the bike and walked inside, the bell above the door announcing her presence. Scanning the inside, she sent Ethan a quick text that all was clear.
“Good morning.” A man with silver-streaked hair emerged from behind the counter. His gaze shifted to the entrance as Ethan entered, setting the bell off again.
“Hello, Mr. Khan,” Ethan greeted, removing his helmet. “It’s been a while.”
Mr. Khan’s expression transformed to astonishment. “Ethan? Is it really you?”
“You thought you’d seen the last of me, huh?”
“Not at all! My whole family’s glued to the TV whenever you’re on. This is…Wow. I can’t believe it—you’re really standing here! What brings you to my shop today?”
“We’re actually here for Priya,” Ethan replied, gesturing to the helmet she held. “She needs something that fits better, plus some extra gear.”
“Of course! Right this way.” Mr. Khan led them to the helmet display.
As they browsed the selection, Mr. Khan’s phone rang. “My son,” he said, silencing it with an apologetic smile.
“Please don’t ignore him on our behalf,” Priya said with a smile. “We’ll look around.”
Grateful, Mr. Khan stepped away to return the call. At first, his conversation was hushed, but his tone soon became sharp and agitated.
“Sorry about that,” he said when he returned. “My son won’t believe you’re here.” Then a spark of excitement lit his face. “Would it be too much to ask for a photo together?”
“After everything you’ve done for me? It’s the least I can do,” Ethan replied.
Mr. Khan handed his phone to Priya, beaming as he stood beside Ethan.
Priya snapped a photo of the two men standing by the counter with the store’s logo in the background. She took a few more shots from different angles before handing the phone back.
“Thank you so much,” Mr. Khan said, scrolling through the images. “Let’s see him doubt his old man now…Bet he’s kicking himself for sleeping in.” He tapped out a quick message, then slipped his phone into his pocket and returned to help Priya.
Priya chose a helmet to match Ethan’s bike. It had an anti-fog visor and comfortable padding inside. Ethan added a jacket, a pair of gloves, and boots. Priya mentally calculated the damage, debating how to scale back, but before she could say anything, Ethan insisted on paying for all of it.
“Payment? Out of the question.” Mr. Khan declared as they debated back and forth. “Having you as my first customer of the day is a blessing, a sign of good luck. It means a lot that you thought of me, Ethan. Please, let me cover this. It’s on the house.”
Priya blinked, surprised by his generosity. She opened her mouth to protest, but Mr. Khan was already slipping the jacket over her shoulders. She shot Ethan a look. He just shook his head, smiling. Arguing with Mr. Khan was useless.
“Thank you, Mr. Khan,” Ethan said, his tone appreciative. “Can we leave the packaging and Priya’s other helmet with you? Feel free to pass it on to someone who needs it.”
“Of course.” Mr. Khan removed the gloves and boots from their boxes and arranged them neatly on the counter.
“Thank you,” Priya said as she slipped them on. She glanced at Ethan, still adjusting to the unexpected kindness.
“Don’t worry,” he whispered, leaning in. “I’ll make sure he gets a proper thank-you gift later.”
As they headed out, Ethan opened the door for her and glanced over his shoulder. “It was good seeing you again, Mr. Khan,” he said.
The door shut with a jingling echo, and Mr. Khan stood frozen on the other side, as if he was trying to wrap his head around what had just happened.
“Damn, Priya 2.0.” Ethan’s eyes swept over her as they walked to the bike. “You’ve got troublemaker written all over you.”
“I’ve finally crossed over to your side of the tracks,” Priya shot back with a grin.
Ethan laughed and hooked their helmets on the bike. He tugged on her sleeve, pulling her closer. “Forget the ride,” he murmured, his voice husky as his gaze dropped to her lips. “Let’s go back to the coach house.”
In an instant, Priya’s entire world narrowed to the heat radiating between them. The warmth of Ethan’s breath brushed her skin as their lips hovered, inches apart. His voice, his body, everything about him made Priya’s senses spin. She leaned in, eyelids fluttering shut.
But before their lips could meet, a sharp staccato of camera clicks pierced the stillness.
Startled, they pulled back and spotted a man leaning out of an SUV.
Across the lot, another photographer dashed from a parked sedan, positioning himself for a clearer angle.
A third crouched behind the convenience store, snapping away.
“Fuck.” Ethan’s entire demeanor shifted, his expression turning ice-cold. “Here. Helmet on.” He secured Priya’s helmet, pulling the visor down to shield her face.
“Come on, buddy. Don’t be like that,” one of the paparazzi yelled.
“Who’s the mystery woman, Ethan?” another shouted.
“Show us some love, Ethan!”
Ethan ignored them, putting on his own helmet. He turned to Priya, his voice sharp but steady. “Hold on tight and don’t let go. No matter what.”
Priya nodded, her grip tightening around him.
Ethan fired up the engine, its roar drowning out the chorus of shouts.
Tires squealed as they tore out of the parking lot, speeding toward the road.
They barely had time to merge before three cars closed in, cameras flashing.
Ethan gunned the engine, swerving to avoid them as they tried to box him in.
Priya clung to him as he zigzagged between vehicles, trying to shake them off.
The world melted into a chaotic blur of headlights and buildings.
Out of nowhere, a paparazzi van cut across their path, forcing Ethan to steer up onto the sidewalk.
He quickly hopped back onto the road, making a sharp turn at the next intersection.
The van overshot, but the other cars stayed hot on their trail.
One of them nudged dangerously close, its bumper brushing the rear of the bike.
A photographer leaned out of the window, snapping photo after photo.
Ethan sped up, his eyes scanning for an opening. Priya clung tighter, her pulse pounding as they hurtled down the road. As they approached an intersection, the light turned red. Ethan slammed on the brakes, bringing them to a skidding halt. The air filled with the acrid smell of scorched rubber.
The car tailing them screeched to a halt beside them. The photographer jumped out, his camera trained on them. Priya turned her head, only to see a swarm of paparazzi sprinting toward them, closing in from every direction.
“Over here!” someone shouted, camera flashing in her face.