I knew what she’d said about me. Everyone did. She’d told April and Maya, and they’d told Sam and Aamar, who’d then mentioned it to me. She’d cried for weeks over how much time she’d dedicated to us, how hard she’d worked on me, how I was never enough, how I’d never treated her like a queen on a pedestal, and how I was a hapless, hopeless, emotionless workaholic better suited for glaring at coding than being present in any relationship.

The transparency Sejal had maintained through the entire breakup and afterward, and the lack of rebuttal from me, made the entire situation one-sided and in her favor. It had almost created a rift between the guys and the women, until Sam and Aamar reminded April and Maya how I was the least destructive, least toxic person ever. Not to mention quiet as hell. I didn’t think our breakup was anything to shout about, to discuss, to cause tension, or to get people to pity me or stand on my side. Even when Sejal had done it. Even when it appeared that she’d succeeded in turning everyone against me, including family.

As usual, I didn’t make a remark on the ongoing conversation revolving around us. Instead, I said, “This is all about you and Sam. We’re going to have a great time.”

She beamed and nodded, as if she needed confirmation that I wasn’t going to—what—make a scene? “Oh! I heard you brought a special friend.” This, she said loudly, a call to arms for others to descend on the topic.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Maya asked.

“How could you keep that to yourself?” Aamar said.

“A new relationship,” I replied. “Please don’t make this a big deal. She…keeps to herself.”

Sejal eyed me as she sipped her drink from across the veranda dinner table. Sejal could see through my BS, but I hoped my “robotic emotions” worked in my favor.

“She’s really nice,” Aamar told Maya.

“And cute,” April said, shaking her shoulders. Sam had obviously told her, because there were no pictures of Bane to show. “Why didn’t she join us?”

“I thought this was just for us,” I replied, glaring at Sejal instead of the new boyfriend at her side.

Tension slowly built between us. She wanted to say something, wanted to start something. As she opened her mouth, I grinned at Sam and April and made a toast.

Despite my ex sitting across from me with piercing incredulity at my suddenly having a girlfriend, we enjoyed food, drinks, desserts, and views while catching up late into the torch fire–lit evening. About two hours later, April stood with a lingering graze across Sam’s shoulders, mischief in her eyes. Maya and Sejal joined her and off they went for a bachelorette party. Sejal kissed her boyfriend, and he went on his own (despite being invited by Sam), while Sam, Aamar, and I headed for the bachelor party.

This island didn’t have any cities, much less a big nightlife scene. But there was a shitload of drinking.

I’d gotten back late. My friends must’ve mistaken our late twenties for our early college days when we could drink until 3 a.m. and be okay the next day. After many fumbling attempts with the key card, I crept into a very dark villa. I flipped on the kitchen light, noticing that both bedroom doors were closed. Pillows and blankets had been set on the couch.

I crashed. If the guys were expecting me to keep this up all trip long, they might as well leave me poolside with a lemonade. My throat ached and my head was on its way to pounding.

My eyes clasped shut, dreams may or may not have come, but the next thing I knew, the shrill sound of a blender and clanking pans and silverware had me awake and clutching the blanket over my head. This must be the generous, albeit early-riser, sister. She eventually went on her way, and I fell back asleep, waking up to nothing. No alarm, no texts, no calls, no impending meetings, just a clean, sunlight-filled room.

I looked up at the wide bamboo fan blades that matched the wicker furniture. My head felt like someone had tried to crush it and failed. In spite of a mild hangover, this finally felt like a vacation. For the first time in a long time. Not days off to visit family or nearby places or tightly packed itineraries through scenic destinations, but a vacation. Rest. Relaxation.

My mind drifted toward three things: family, work, and the urgent need to piss.

I texted my sisters to make sure Papa was okay, that he hadn’t relapsed. They gave me a text full of enjoying my time without worrying over him; he was fine.

I used the bathroom next to the second bedroom instead of knocking on Bane’s door. On the way back out, I stood at her door anyway and scratched my forehead. Well, shit. I needed to get in there for my luggage.

After several knocks, each louder than the last, I announced, “I’m opening the door.”

She wasn’t in the room. I took the opportunity to take a quick shower.

Tugging my shirt over my head and walking out of the bedroom afterward, I saw her.

Bane was sitting on a lounge chair, in the shade, reading that yellow book, her back to the sliding doors and to me, but far enough from the villa that she couldn’t have heard me.

I should probably talk to her. At least say hello.

I pushed aside the glass door. She didn’t budge. I stood over her. Her legs were stretched out on the lounge chair. She was wearing long shorts and a T-shirt, hair in a bun. Very much unlike my friends last night, who’d been all dressed up in flowing dresses, or like a lot of women in passing wearing dresses and floppy hats, as if visiting the islands mandated looking extra nice. But Bane was…Bane.

“Hey.”

“Hi,” she purred.

“Sorry, I forgot to text you last night that I’d probably be getting in late.”

She flipped the page to her book. “Don’t be. Your competition wasn’t.”

“Wait. What?”

She didn’t bother looking up. “I come here several times a year. You think I don’t have friends with benefits on island? Not wasting my time waiting around on you.”

What the hell was she talking about? “Oh. Uh…good.”

I didn’t expect Bane to wait around for me, but I’d genuinely felt bad. Of course, my mouth didn’t know how to formulate those words to tell her so. But she seemed fine. We weren’t a couple. I shouldn’t feel bad, and she shouldn’t be upset. And I definitely should not feel any tinge of jealousy, yet…

“The fuck. How many benefits you got here, Bane?”

She peered up at me from over her sunglasses. “Language.”

“Pardon me.”

She pushed up her shades as if she’d resumed reading that yellow book with two Indian characters on the cover, arms crossed, side-eyeing each other. They were essentially us half the time.

“How many guys do I need to watch out for?” My words came out sharper than I’d intended.

“Why would you care?”

“I don’t care. But if we’re acting in front of my friends, it would be nice to know how many guys might interrupt us by sweeping you away with a kiss.”

Her lips twitched. She wanted to smile and was holding back.

I clarified, “I’m not asking because I’m jealous. Just curious.”

Her lips curled at the corners.

“Don’t tell me.” I turned to walk away but came back. “Are they in this area?”

“Don’t worry,” she finally said. “They’re discreet. But if I have to suddenly leave, then you’ll know why.”

Don’t suddenly leave then, I wanted to tell her.

“Is that an issue?” she asked.