Page 73 of The Ex Factor

“A gentleman never reveals his secrets,” he said with a smirk, and I allowed him the preening.

My eyes were on the verge of moistening, but I turned those emotions into a wide smile and looked away.

“Oh, Sujit! How could I ever thank you for this? Nothing I do or say will ever be adequate.”

“You don’t need to thank me, sweet girl. And this is only half your gift.”

My body perked up. “Where’s the other half?”

In response, he shifted to one end of the couch and propped a cushion in his lap.

“Here,” he said, patting the cushion. “I’m going to read to you.”

A gasp escaped my mouth, and I covered it with my hands. Not only had he appreciated what I had shared with him when I had been an emotional wreck, but he had worked hard to fulfill these small desires of mine. I sat speechless and motionless.

“You don’t want it?” he teased. “Alright…” he sighed dramatically and began removing the pillow from his lap.

“Don’t you dare move,” I said and placed the book of Maya Angelou’s poems in his hand.

“I had a feeling you’d choose that one,” he bragged and flipped the pages to a poem I had committed to memory during my college days.

“Pretty women wonder where my secret lies…” he began a slow and emotional rendering ofPhenomenal Womanas if he had practiced reciting it. I reclined, enjoying the beautiful words out of his graceful mouth while he stroked my hair like Mom used to, and all I could do was struggle to hold back my tears.

“’Cause I’m a woman…Phenomenally. Phenomenal woman…That’s me,” he ended softly. “Phenomenal Woman, that’s you,” he whispered to me.

I kept gazing at his handsome face. I knew I could no longer hold back my feelings.

Where we stood looked like crossroads, and we had been forever looking for the right path forward.

I turned over in his lap to face away from him. “Read me one more,” I said.

I heard him flip the pages. “Still Rise,” he read. “You may write me down in history…” He continued to stroke my hair as he read. “…I rise I rise I rise.”

Tears were already flowing down the side of my face into the cushion, and he asked, “One more?”

I had no way of responding without making him privy to my tears. Sujit made me feel like I needed nothing else in life anymore. He made me feel cherished and worthy of love again. And he continued to remain out of reach.

The books that lay near me were no ordinary gifts. They were chosen to give me the kind of happiness I desired. Not the kind people thought I wanted. No one except Mom had given me that.

But I wasn’t my mother’s daughter alone. I was also my father’s daughter. Aakash’s words resounded in my ears. It was one thing to find solace and companionship in him, but losing myself to Sujit like this was unwise. Especially when I didn’t have a way to know if he felt the same. And even if he did, hadn’t he said that he couldn’t explain our relationship to his family?

Aakash was right. Our relationship would remain mired in shame and embarrassment. The sooner I made peace with the fact that love wasn’t written in my destiny, the easier my life would be.

My phone whirred on the table and I wiped my tears to check the banner. Manoj’s name flashed on the screen, and I promptly sent it to voicemail. The look on Sujit’s face said he’d also seen the caller's name.

“This is the third time he’s called me this week,” I said, getting off his lap and fixing my hair.

He slammed the book shut as a look passed over his face, one that I couldn’t decipher.

“We met over coffee to discuss business. He said he’s looking for a place for his new office. I don’t usually take such meetings, but I was curious because he mentioned you.”

“Me?”

“Yes, at first he pretended to ask me out—” I began.

“He wasn’t pretending.”

I gaped at Sujit. Clearly, he knew Manoj better than I thought he did.

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