Page 95 of Unfolding Ethan

My heart dropped in my stomach.

I bit my lip and nodded when tears brimmed my eyes. “Yeah, of course. We were just fucking each other, right?” I hated myself when my voice broke but forced not to cry in front of him.Eitherof them. I shook my head. “Of course, it was just sex.”

I walked out of the locker room and wiped the tear that had escaped. I didn’t want to go back to Ethan or even see his face right now. I didn’t want to go to dinner with his family and swim team either. I just wanted to go back home.

“Sorry,” I mumbled when I bumped into someone while walking out of the high school.

“Kiara?”Oh, shit, not Paul. “Are you crying? Hey, what happened?”

I squeezed my eyes shut and took a deep breath. “Nothing. Have a good night.”

He held my arm. “Hey, talk to me. Why are you crying? And where’s Ethan?”

“Leave me alone, Paul. I want to go home. Just go away.” I tugged my hand and he let go. I turned and marched toward the school gate.

“I can drop you home if you want?” Paul yelled and I knew he meant it sincerely.

“No.” I shook my head and decided I would rather hail a taxi than feel the awkward tension between me and Paul or answer his questions.

After hailing a cab, I sat on the backseat and thought about Ethan’s words, which kept ringing in my head.We were never together. It was just sex. Using each other’s bodies. Fucking around. Even though I knew he was lying because he was deeply hurt, I couldn’t wrap my head around the reality that he did say all that to me. And maybe he did mean it. I could be a rebound for him after all.

Twenty Five

I Stayed

Kiara

“Where did you go?”

I closed the door and leaned my head on the cold wood, taking a deep breath and hoping I could keep up with the small talk with my father.

“Swim competition, remember?” I chuckled and turned to face him. “Oh, wait, why would you? You’re too busy delivering babies in the hospital and drowning your sorrows in work rather than talking to your daughter about it.”

He was sitting at the dining table reading a book with his glasses on and the dim yellow light cast a shadow over his face. He looked tired and exhausted.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and walked past him. “Good night, Dad.”

“Kiara.”

I stopped, clenching my hands in a fist.

“Come back here and sit with me. I . . . I have made dinner for us.”

I said without turning, “I don’t want to eat—”

“I bought Gulab Jamun's for dessert.”

I looked back at him and saw him close the book, remove his reading glasses, and look at me. His obsidian eyes were warm and glistening with unshed tears, dark shadows underneath them.

“Please?”

I nodded and willed myself not to cry in front of him. I walked back to the dining table and helped set up our plates even though I had no urge to eat.

“Do I want to know why Ethan is not with you and you came back in a cab?” he asked, eating the paneer biryani he made. It was Mom’s favorite dish.

I shook my head, swallowing the food in my mouth. “He . . .” I cleared my throat. “We had a fight after we won, and I came back home.”

“If Damini were here, she would have handled this nicely,” he muttered to himself and I paused.

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