“How are you so strong?”

She pushed against my back. “You can’t ditch your friends on this momentous farewell drink!”

“I’d rather stay here,” I confessed even as she opened the door.

“Wait.” I pressed my hand against the wall above her head, loving how perfectly we fit together. “You’re coming, too, right?”

“Just to say goodbye. I don’t want to drink with them.”

I grinned. But before I suggested what she might rather be doing, she added, “You have to pack and get ready for your flight.”

I dropped my head back. Fuck me. I didn’t want to leave.

“We’ll walk with you,” Diya suggested, and Kimo agreed.

And with that, we made our way to the hotel lounge, where Kimo gave me a bear hug and Diya clung on to me a few extra seconds.

She said, “Please come back, even if you ditch my sister.”

“All right.” Bane pulled her away and I said my farewells.

“Hey,” I said to Bane.

“Hey.” She had a soft smile, but her eyes flickered with a hint of sorrow.

“Are you all right?”

She heaved out a breath. “I’m getting anxious about returning to work.”

“Afraid you won’t be able to stop staring at me on the screen during meetings?”

“Countdown to reality,” Bane grunted when I’d expected her to laugh and toss out a smart-ass response.

I swallowed. “A reality where all this is over?”

“We complicated things,” she muttered, averting her gaze.

Well, shit. Was this really the end of us—whatever “us” had been?

“I have to run to the restroom,” she announced suddenly.

“Okay. I think the bar is that way—” I started, peering down one of the corridors, but Bane was already walking away.

I waited a few minutes, my thoughts thrashing around on how to accept this as the end. Like unmoving segment attributes that could not be changed without an override. Back to reality. Back to being coworkers. This was what we had agreed to. What happened here stayed here. Even Bane had admitted to being happy in her life just the way it was, and she was not looking to uproot it with a relationship.

The pain taking hold inside my ribs and prying them apart was getting stronger as reality set in. I had known this was coming. I had known it would hurt. But damn, I wasn’t expecting to have the breath knocked from my lungs, for my chest to physically ache.

Maya had leaned around one of the massive pillars down the corridor toward the bar and waved me down. I reluctantly walked toward her without Bane. This was the beginning to the end, and I might as well sever myself now. The only problem? Untethering myself from Bane was like sawing my soul in half. And that shit was killing me.

Aamar and Maya welcomed me with a “Hurry your butt up.” But as soon as I rounded the pillar, Sejal stepped in between me and my friends. She had her arms crossed in a perpetual state of annoyance, her head cocked to the side, and a knowing smirk that erupted with exasperating words before I could even say hello.

“Why do you look so ragged?” she asked.

“Sejal!” Maya hissed.

“You look like you’re sick,” Sejal declared.

“Is that concern or an accusation?” I said.

“The latter. You look like you’ve been caught in a lie, and I know why. It’s because Bhanu isn’t your girlfriend,” she spat triumphantly.

“Stop it,” Maya said.

“Are we still doing this?” I asked dryly.

Sejal responded, “I knew it was a lie the moment she said she was with you. Your reaction to her claim, you never having mentioned her, and how Bhanu seemed absolutely oblivious about any of us.”

“Could you keep her name out of your mouth?” I said, my voice getting low, agitated.

She harrumphed. “I asked about her when I talked to your parents, and they had no idea you were dating.”

“And?” I said, annoyed that she not only had spoken with my parents, but had brought up Bane and my dating life.

“Sejal, please let it go,” Maya pleaded.

“There’s no way they’re not dating with that chemistry,” Aamar refuted her. “But also, why are we even talking about this? Sunny isn’t that guy.”

I clenched and unclenched my fists. My friends going to bat for me, wholly believing in this lie. I was turning out to be a terrible friend.

“Not you,” Sejal pressed. “You’d tell your parents, especially if you’d been dating this long. She’d absolutely come up.”

Pradeep was standing off to the corner, quiet, and I felt as bad for him as I did about lying to my friends.

Sejal had been going on. “I showed them a picture.”

I blew out an exasperated breath. “Damnit, Sejal.”

“They’ve never seen her but have heard about her from you. One Bhanu. From work. And I looked her up, and yep, it’s her. You are such a liar. And a bad one.”

“Oh my god,” Maya blurted out. “Can you leave him alone? Even if he were lying, which we know Sunny does not lie—”

Crap.

“Why does it matter to you?”

Sejal responded, “Doesn’t it bother you that he’d lie to your face and keep it up for days? Even bringing her around on events meant for us, and to the wedding?”

“Sunny is nothing like that,” Aamar added. “Please let this go before Sam and April show up.”