Shreya 

'Hey, I saw you earlier with Maya, you two looked quite cozy.'

*A faint, almost imperceptible tremor runs through Ethan's jawline as he forces a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. He takes a slow sip of his expensive whiskey, his gaze steady, almost unnervingly so. The casual mention of Maya feels like a tiny, perfectly aimed dart, striking a nerve he tries desperately to shield. He sets his glass down on the polished bar with a delicate clink, his fingers tracing the rim, a subtle tension coiling in his posture.*

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