It was extremely touching that Diya and Kimo took the time to bring us breakfast and coffee and to spend one last meal together before sending me off.
I hated knowing they were taking to our lies so well. And worse than that, I hated that this was a lie. I wanted there to be an “us” beyond today. But how could I say that, admit it? Would Bane think I was joking? Feel pity? Get uncomfortable?
I thought I was getting better at expressing myself with her. So why was it so hard to just ask her what she thought of us beyond today?
I ate a little of everything that Kimo had been generous enough to bring. I even offered to pay for it, but he wasn’t having it.
In front of us was a generous spread of semisweet almond matcha cake dusted in powdered sugar, creamy almond croissants, flaky buttered rolls, bite-size Portuguese custard tarts, apple and fig jam sandwiches, and an ube sweet cream cold brew for me.
Kimo had gotten Bane her favorite—I was honestly expecting an ube latte. Instead, it was a toasted marshmallow chai with homemade whipped cream.
I quirked a brow.
“I know,” she said, taking a sip and licking whipped cream off her lips. “Don’t denote my Indianness because I enjoy a chai latte. Try it.”
Sharing drinks had become second nature.
“It’s fine,” I said after a taste.
“Fine?”
“It’s good.”
“Why can’t you just say that!”
“I just did!”
“Can you guys ever have a conversation without yelling at each other?” Diya asked.
“No,” Bane retorted. “Can you?”
A conversation without yelling? But yelling without fighting? This took me back to when Bane explained such an odd thing being part of Diya and Kimo’s love language. Had it become something of affection for us, too? Bickering, but in an endearing way?
My phone kept going off with texts, marring this quaint ending to my time with Diya and Kimo.
“Is that important? Should you reply?” Bane asked.
“My sister telling me to have a nice flight home and the group text wondering where we’re at because they’re having drinks before leaving.”
“Sunny!” Bane tugged me out of my chair.
“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.”
“Let’s call your parents and ask,” Sejal said instead, pulling out her phone.
“What the fuck?” I growled, startling her.
“Excuse me?”
I glowered at her. “Excuse you the hell for?” My temper rose. “For making my life miserable?” I’d had about enough. “For calling me out?” The wedding was over, and we’d made it this far without ruining Sam and April’s vibes. Bane was already done, so why the hell not? The truth gushed out of me in searing words.
I took a step toward her and snapped, “You want to know the truth so fucking badly? So it makes you feel better that you’re always right? Fine. Bhanu isn’t my girlfriend. She’s just my coworker.”
Sejal sneered as if she’d won some imperative game.
I didn’t skip a beat, and my next words wiped that snide look off her face. “She happened to be here visiting her sister and was so annoyed by your shit that she blurted out being my girlfriend just to shut you the hell up. All she wanted was quiet, and you came barging in with your demeaning accusations, and unlike you, she’s a good enough person to step in to stop—what she calls—toxicity.”
Sejal’s mouth hung open.
“You got that? She thinks you’re toxic, and I finally see it. All you want to do is tear me down. I’m not even in your life, but you sure as hell keep dragging me back in. All for what? So you can knock me down in front of our friends?” I gestured toward a stunned Aamar and Maya.
“I could’ve pulled you aside and cleared things up, but you’d already opened your mouth and told the entire group. So what was I supposed to do? Tell everyone, when they were so ecstatic at the mere idea of me having a girlfriend, and tarnish this week for Sam and April? All I wanted was to fly under the radar, give them a wedding without the tension of us fighting. Then I just hoped I could give them a wedding without anyone feeling sorry for me. So yes, Sejal. It was all a big lie.”
I held open my arms, glaring at her. “Is that what you wanted to hear? That I do not have a girlfriend. That a woman had to pretend to be one to save me this very awkward moment?”
I looked to a speechless Aamar and Maya, defeated and annoyed and pissed with so many things right now. My voice came out terse when I said, “Sorry I lied. Bhanu is just my coworker, and the entire thing was fake.”