Chapter Twenty Six
Twenty-Six
The media attention didn’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 she was 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.
As summer approached and the calendar edged toward mid-June, the renovation crew wrapped up their work at Moksha. Priya trailed her parents as they moved from room to room, inspecting the newly renovated space. The acrid smell from the fire had been replaced by the scent of fresh paint.
“It’s so nice to finally have the lights working properly,” Mumma said, flipping a switch. The basement lit up, shadows scattering in the wake of clean, bright light.
Moksha wore a mask of rebirth, like a phoenix rising from the ashes. Priya, on the other hand, doubted she would ever be able to rebuild herself.
“Rakesh!” Mumma called Priya’s father, who had wandered into his office. “We are about to begin the pooja.”
The prayer ritual was intended to bless the new electrical panel and mark a new beginning for Moksha. Priya carried the pooja tray, neatly arranged with a small oil lamp, incense sticks, a brass handbell, fresh flowers, and a small container of kumkum powder.
Puppa joined them as Mumma lit the oil lamp, a symbol of light triumphing over darkness.
She then lit the incense, the fragrant smoke curling gently as it filled the room.
Together, the three of them recited prayers and offered flowers.
Mumma added the finishing touch—a tilak of kumkum powder on the electrical panel for divine protection—before handing out prasad to share the blessings and celebrate a new beginning.
Puppa returned to his office and came back waving a document. “The inspector signed off on everything,” he announced. “Moksha is back in business!”
“Priya, inform everyone on the family group. Badha ne kaide! We’re celebrating tonight!” Mumma beamed.
Celebrating for the Solankis usually meant a nice dinner at home.
Spending money on dining out was as rare as snow in the Kutch desert.
The best gatherings were ones where wallets remained firmly zipped.
Maximum joy, minimal expense. Now that was true cause for celebration.
Priya smiled as she followed her parents out of Moksha, the sun catching on the freshly cleaned windows.
“I’m so glad the power is back on in the apartment,” Mumma said, pausing to take in the uncluttered lot. No more contractor trucks, tangled extension cords, and dust-covered tarps.
“Now if only the reporters would take off too,” Puppa muttered, nodding toward the cars still parked on the gravel patch outside the property.
Mumma sighed, started for the apartment door, then turned back. “Priya, can you bring my blue suitcase from the coach house? I need the spice mix I brought from Vinod Uncle’s.”
Priya nodded and headed toward the coach house. Just as she stepped inside, her phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen—then exhaled with relief. Finally, a familiar name.
“Brooke!” she answered. “Where have you been? I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for days.”
“I’m still in Ubud,” Brooke replied, her voice heavy and cracking.
“Are you okay?” Priya froze, concerned for her best friend.
“I’m never going to recover, Pri. Ever.”
Priya’s stomach dropped. “What’s wrong? Talk to me, Brooke.”
“It’s Lady Whiskerbottom,” Brooke wailed. “She’s gone, Pri. And it’s my fault she’s dead.”
“Oh, Brooke. I’m so sorry. What happened?”
Brooke sniffed loudly. “You know how she hated all my boyfriends, right? Well, I hooked up with her healer. He’s so yummy, Pri, I couldn’t help it.
I didn’t want it to interfere with her therapy, so I made sure she never saw us together, but last night…
” Her sobs intensified. “I thought she was out after her session, so I told him to stay. I’m pretty sure she woke up and saw us.
She can’t jump on the bed anymore, so she probably just watched. ”
Brooke’s voice cracked as she continued, barely able to get the words out. “I just keep imagining her little eyes peeking over the edge, completely devastated, Pri! It must have broken her heart then and there. I’m such a shithead. My cat died while I was having the best orgasm of my life.”
“You don’t know that for sure, Brooke,” Priya said, biting her lip.
“I do! She made sure I knew. She peed all over the guy’s pants, then she crawled into my favorite bag and died.”
“The Birkin?”
“Yes, it’s ruined forever, Pri. Whenever I see it now, I’ll think of how I failed her in her final moments.”
“Oh Brooke, you gave Lady Whiskerbottom the life of royalty. She knew she was loved, and that’s what counts.” Priya paused, then said solemnly, “She lived a long and full life, and she couldn’t have asked for a better mom.”
“I have to announce her death on social media,” Brooke moaned, blowing her nose again. “A final picture of her on her favorite throw with her monogrammed collar.”
“I’m so sorry, Brooke. Is there anything I can do to help?”
“I’m flying back with her body. I want her buried at Knight Estates, and I’d like her to have a proper send-off. Could you arrange a funeral for her at Moksha?”
“A pet funeral?” Priya asked, taken aback. “We’ve never done one, but I’ll talk to Puppa and see what he says.”
“Thanks, Pri. I’ll check in with you when I land.” Brooke hung up with a quiet sniff.
Priya stared at her phone for a second. Only Brooke could turn a story about a spiritual healer and a ruined handbag into something both tragic and absurd. But loss was loss, and Priya knew the pain of it all too well. Brooke was hurting, and if there was any way to help her, she’d find it.
Priya tucked her phone away and grabbed her mother’s suitcase, her mind already running through how to pitch the idea of a pet funeral to Puppa. As she wheeled the clattering luggage into the apartment, her parents snapped their heads around from the couch.
“Shh!” they said, turning back to the television.
Priya froze in the hallway. On the screen was Ethan—her Ethan—seated across from a well-known talk show host. It was the first time she’d seen him since the night he left…
and he looked incredible. Dressed in a tailored gray suit and open-collared shirt, he was both handsome and painfully distant.
His hair, slightly tousled, was perfectly imperfect.
Priya’s eyes traced the familiar line of his jaw, lingering on his smile.
Her heart swelled at the smooth and rich sound of his voice.
The host grinned at Ethan. “We’re thrilled about your movie, but here’s what everyone’s really dying to know…” He pointed to a screen where the now-infamous picture of Ethan and Priya flickered, their faces close enough to kiss.
“What’s the deal?” the host teased, prompting cheers and applause from the audience.
“You’re all a bunch of pot stirrers, you know that?” Ethan joked, though his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.
Priya’s stomach tightened as the camera panned to reveal Sienna Deville seated beside him. Effortlessly glamorous with high cheekbones and long legs, she radiated pure Hollywood allure. Priya’s eyes stung at the sight.
“Well?” the host continued, tapping his desk for dramatic effect. “Is Ethan Knight single or spoken for?”
The camera zoomed in on Ethan. He lowered his lids briefly, almost imperceptibly, before he spoke. “Priya Solanki and I are just friends. Those photos have been taken out of context and blown way out of proportion.”