The next morning, Ethan was gone.
The bed was cold, the space beside me perfectly neat — no sign he'd ever been curled up like a terrified child on my lap.
No good morning.
No "thanks for letting me use you as human therapy furniture."
Just… nothing.
By the time I stepped into the tiny kitchen, he was already dressed, sharp as ever, talking quietly to Ahemad and making arrangements for our ride back to Chennai.
He didn't look at me.
Not even once.
I plastered a polite smile, thanked the family for their hospitality, hugged the kids, and followed Ethan out in silence. Every step I took felt heavier. The sky was clear now, but the weight in the air hadn't lifted. It was like something had been left behind with last night's storm — something unspoken, something Ethan clearly wanted to bury.
Fine.
He could bury it.
But he didn't get to dig a grave for me in the process.
Back in Chennai, everything went back to "normal."
Which meant back to Ethan being cold. Distant. Clinical.
But now it was worse. Because now, I knew what was underneath.
I knew the Ethan who held my hand like it was the only thing keeping him tethered.
The Ethan who couldn't sleep through thunder.
The Ethan who broke, quietly and wordlessly, in front of me.
And that Ethan?
He was gone.
Replaced with an ultra-efficient, emotionally unavailable robot who didn't say a single unnecessary word to me.
On our last day before returning to Bangalore, we had back-to-back meetings with vendors. We were supposed to present together.
At least, that was the plan.
But Ethan changed the schedule last minute and took my name off the briefing email.
I stood outside the glass meeting room, blinking at the agenda on his tablet. "I thought we were presenting together?"
"I figured you were tired," he said, not looking up. "Thought I'd let you rest."
I stared at him. "You didn't even ask me."
"There was nothing to ask."
"What is this, Ethan?"
"What is what?"
"This... thing you're doing. Acting like I don't exist."
He finally looked up. His eyes were unreadable. Empty, almost.
"I'm not acting like you don't exist, Sana. I'm treating you like a colleague. Isn't that what you wanted?"
Ouch.
I swallowed the sting in my throat. "Right. Of course."
He went into the meeting. I didn't follow.
Later that evening, we flew back in silence.
Private jet or not, the tension was suffocating.
He worked the whole time, barely glancing my way. I watched clouds drift past the window and tried not to scream into the recycled air.
When we landed, he spoke — finally.
"You're free to take the weekend off. I'll have the driver drop you home."
"That's it?"
He looked tired. But not the kind of tired that invited sympathy. The kind that built walls.
"What do you want me to say, Sana?" he asked, voice low.
I didn't know.
I just wanted him to say something real.
But instead, he nodded once, got into a separate car, and drove off without looking back.
I saw "Alive?" and almost 4 more texts explaining how much he misses me from noah.
I didn't text Noah.
I didn't say a word the entire ride back.
But I was pissed.
Not at him.
Okay—maybe a little at him.
But mostly at myself.
For getting pulled into whatever that was.
For letting him reach for my hand.
For not pushing it away.
For sitting there like some fragile fool while he used me as an emotional bandage.
I wasn't supposed to care.
I didn't want to care.
And yet…
There I was, thinking about him again.
About the silence that followed.
About how fast he switched off—
Like none of it had happened.
That's the thing with Ethan.
He acts like he doesn't feel a thing—
And I hated it.
I hated that he could unravel me with nothing but silence.
I hated that he'd turned into a riddle I couldn't solve, no matter how hard I tried.
And worst of all—
I hated that part of me still wanted to try.
When I reached home, only Alex was there—barefoot, in sweatpants, eating cereal out of a measuring cup like a gremlin.
He looked up and blinked. "You're alive."
"Unfortunately," I muttered, dumping my bag and collapsing onto the couch.
"Where's Dadi?" I asked, glancing around. The house was way too quiet.
He shrugged. "Out."
I raised a brow. "Out? Like… grocery shopping out? Or temple-run out?"
He smirked. "Nope. 'Got a DM on Insta from an old friend and decided to go on a date' kind of out."
I shot up. "WHAT?!"
Alex calmly spooned another mouthful of cereal. "Relax. I have her location. I'm tracking her like a responsible grandchild-slash-uncle-slash-bestie."
"You let her go on a date with a stranger from Instagram? Are you mad?!"
"She sent me screenshots. The guy's cute. And alive. And not a catfish. Probably."
"Probably?!" I started pacing. "What if he's a psycho? What if she's been kidnapped?!"
"She's currently at a rooftop café eating tiramisu and uploading Instagram stories. She added a Paris filter. She's fine."
I collapsed again. "Her love life is officially more exciting than mine."
Alex grinned. "Honestly? Mine too. Maybe she deserves it. She raised all three of us without accidentally killing anyone. That's romantic enough."
We both sighed dramatically.
He leaned back. "So how was Chennai? Catch any fish?"
"Too many," I muttered. "And now I have a robot haunting my brain."
"Huh?"
"Long story."
He didn't press. Instead, he frowned a little. "Anyway, my company's a mess. My boss is a micromanager. Clients are weird. I'm thinking of quitting."
I looked at him, surprised. "Seriously?"
He nodded. "I'm burnt out. I haven't coded for fun in months. I just want… peace, you know?"
Before I could respond, the door slammed open.
Dia stormed in like she owned the planet.
"Can you NOT pick up your calls for once in your life?" she snapped.
"I—what?"
She dumped her bag, stomped over, and shoved her phone in my face.
"Did. You. Kiss. Ethan?"
My eyes widened. "WHAT?!"
She zoomed in on a blurry photo taken outside a restaurant—me, looking annoyed; Ethan, holding my hand, clearly mid-argument.
Dia pointed. "There's a new theory online. The kissing photo? The viral one with Ethan and some 'mystery girl'? People are saying it's you."
I blinked. "No. That's insane. It was Neha. Wasn't it?"
Dia's eyes narrowed. "The girl in the photo had red wine spilled on her dress."
"And?" I asked, my voice suddenly dry.
"Neha posted photos from that night. Her dress was clean. Yours wasn't."
My stomach twisted.
Alex raised a brow. "Wait… hold on. You're saying Sana kissed Ethan again?!"
Dia crossed her arms. "Then what happened outside that restaurant?"
I opened my mouth. Shut it. Then sighed. "Okay. Ethan pretended to be my boyfriend to save me from an awkward date with Andrew. That's all."
Dia narrowed her eyes. "And the kiss?"
I stared at her.
Silence.
Then, very softly, I said, "It happened. Once."
Alex sat up. "Wait—what?! When?"
"It wasn't… serious," I muttered. "It was stupid. A mistake. I was drunk. He was… there."
"And now," Dia said slowly, "the internet thinks you're dating both."
Alex scrolled through Twitter on his phone, eyes widening. "Oh my God... they're calling you a gold digger."
I snatched the phone from him.
Tweets. Reels. Threads. Speculation.
"From Andrew Alfanso to Ethan Agarwal? Sana sure knows how to climb the billionaire ladder."
"Plot twist: She's playing Rich's game. Queen behavior or criminal?"
"Classic PR move. Cry wolf, get sympathy, jump to next rich guy. Oldest trick in the book."
My throat closed up.
"I don't even know who half these people are," I whispered.
Dia sat down beside me. "Hey. Don't read those."
"My brain blanked. Red wine. That damn dress. I had no way out of this one." I sighed.
Alex leaned back with a shrug. "On the bright side, you've officially entered the realm of celebrity scandal. That's a resume booster."
"Alex, not helping," Dia snapped.
He raised his hands. "Fine. But I'm just saying—she's clearly main character energy now."
Dia took the phone from me gently. "Listen. People are going to talk, no matter what. But this?" She pointed at the screen. "This isn't okay. You need to be careful."
"I didn't ask for this," I muttered.
"You never do," she said softly. "But it finds you anyway."
I looked down at my hands.
Andrew. Ethan. The kiss. The lie. The silence.
It was all spinning out of control.
Alex tried to lighten the mood. "Honestly, Dadi's love life is still the healthiest among us."
Dia rolled her eyes. "Maybe we should let her pick Sana's next boyfriend."
"I vote the guy from her retirement yoga group," Alex said. "Good knees. Excellent balance."
I groaned and buried my face in a pillow.
But deep down, I knew this wasn't just another meme-storm.
But I wasn't sure who I needed to protect myself from anymore—
The internet...
Or Ethan Agarwal.