Page 115 of The Encore’s Crown

“He’s been very supportive,” she says, her tone cooling enough to warn them away. “We’ve worked together several times.”

“Does he want to be more than supportive?” Rithy asks.

“Rithy.” I snap his name because I know exactly where he’s taking this, and the ending he has in mind isn’t happening. This isn’t some fairytale where ten years of damage disappear beneath twinkling lights and we fall back into each other’s arms. This isn’t Hollywood or Bollywood.

This is Hong Kong with ten years of unfinished business sitting between us.

“What? I’m catching up.”

“You’re acting worse than TMZ.”

“He’s a good man,” she interjects between us.

I nod into my glass as though she told me directly. She deserves someone good. Someone who stays when she asks him to stay. Someone who can hear the word future without trying to claw his way out of the room. Someone who won’t turn her love into a weapon because he’s afraid. Her eyes land on me again. This time, neither of us looks away immediately.

“How have you been, Kiri?” she asks.

The table goes quiet. Ronan picks up his drink. Rafe leans back. Rithy suddenly finds the bottle fascinating. But they’re listening. I rub my thumb along the condensation on my glass.

“Good.”

Radhika studies me. I lied to her hundreds of times by the end. She still recognizes one when it comes out of my mouth.

“That’s good,” she says.

Nothing in her voice suggests she believes me. I search for something else to add. Congratulations on not marrying that man sounds insane. Sorry I broke you badly enough that kindness became the top notable quality in anyone who came after me sounds worse.

“You look…” I stop.

Her expression braces for impact. I swallow.

“You look well.”

Rithy looks between us, then suddenly checks his phone with all the subtlety of a man about to fake his own death.

“Oh,” he says. “Shit.”

Ronan glances at him. “What?”

“We have to go.”

Rafe’s eyebrows pull together. “Where?”

Rithy stares at him. Rafe stares back.

Then understanding moves across his face.

“Right,” he says. “The thing.”

“What thing?” Ronan asks.

“The thing we discussed.”

“We didn’t discuss a thing.”

Rithy kicks him beneath the table.

Ronan jolts. “Jesus Christ.”