Christmas is something that's universally as beautiful. I've always celebrated, even though I'm Hindu, but you gotta admit that Christmas is something that you just can't miss out on. Mason and Sarah aren't uber religious, but they always make a big deal out of Christmas, and for a good reason.

It's probably the most appropriate time to have peppermint mochas and candy canes on a very regular basis. All the Christmas songs are so joyful, and always put a smile on my face.

Or, as Nathan says, "It's the exact reason why I get sick of Christmas so easily."

Christmas Eve is something that I always treasure. It's the day where I can spend some time with my family, and then just make so much good food. I'm always on the run, so sitting down and making lots of Lebanese food is just so comforting.

Plus, no matter what, there will almost always be a food fight in the kitchen. And that's what makes it so enjoyable.

Since Mason is turned around, I'm sneaking little pieces of cookie dough as Mason is turning around to tend to other items that he's cooking. Of course, Mason and I are making some classic Indian food, with the help of my mom's old cookbook. Knowing my tastes for that night, he's spicing up the potato filling for samosas, sweetening the kheer, and sizzling the chole.

While I'm cutting out the cookie dough and trying not to make the frosting too sweet, Mason's spicing everything, which I appreciate, because I like to think that Sarah doesn't know how to properly use spices.

After Mason turns off the samosa filling, he goes back to chopping vegetables, and says, "I know you've been sneaking cookie dough, and I don't blame you. Just don't get sick."

I snicker, because I should've known that Mason knows all my tricks and sneakiness. I grab the cookie cutter and start to cut out shapes from the dough. I grab the baking sheet and place them onto the baking sheet. After filling up the first two baking sheets, Mason opens the oven and places them into the oven so that they can bake into deliciousness.

I've already got all the ingredients that are out for the frosting, and I know that this is going to be delicious. I sift the powdered sugar, and then add some vanilla to the mixture. "Ashmita," Mason says. I turn around to face him, and then the next thing you know, he takes his finger and wipes some of the flour from the bowl onto my nose.

I give him the slightly annoyed look, as he smiles at me. I also knew that he would've gotten me at some point. But, I know exactly how I'm going to get him back. I smile, and then take my finger inside the frosting bowl so I can get a little bit on the tip. "Mason?" I ask.

He turns his head a little bit, and the next thing he knows, I'm smearing the frosting on my finger onto his face. I giggle, as I mix it up a little bit so that everything is evilly incorporated. I can see Mason giving me a slightly evil look, to which I ignore. I see his hand move around the counter, and to which I turn to the sink to wash my hands off a little bit.

When I turn around, I feel Mason's strong arm go around me, to which I try to squirm away. His hand goes and smears flour all over my cheeks and nose, like it's Holi and he's trying to turn me into an exploded bag of Skittles.

"Dammit, no!" I scream, as he lets me go. My face feels like someone is trying to stick it into the deep fryer and make it into something delicious. Mason takes a look at my flour caked face, and then we both burst into a fit of laughter. I wipe some of the flour off, and then go to check on the cookies that are baking in the oven.

Then after, Nathan comes down to the smell of sweet cookies baking in the oven, to which he sees my face and his eyes widen. "Ashmita, you okay? You look kind of ill." I start to break out in another fit of laughter, to which Mason throws me a towel to wipe off the rest of the flour that's on my face.

Mason himself chuckles a little bit, and says, "No, we just had our usual slight food fight."

Nathan then gives us the, "Ah, that explains it," look, as he takes a good look at the cookies baking in the oven.

"Not even close to being done yet, buddy," I tell him, as he pouts a little bit and stomps back upstairs. I roll my eyes, as Mason keeps on doing his usual magic in the kitchen.

******

The door in my room is closed, and I have the diary in my lap. I've pinpointed where in the book we're getting close to her murder, so I know that I'm going to have a more accurate idea of what I should start looking for. Because I can't just start pinpointing suspects from out of nowhere. I need a good place to start. I've bookmarked the page where I want to start.

Without a moment's hesitation, I open the book and start to read. Mason's downstairs, probably watching the news, and him and Sarah always knock when it comes to entering my room when the door is closed. I've got time to kill, and a good opportunity. Let's do this.

******

(JD)

I just put Ashmita down for a nap. She's just like her grandfather. She treasures her sleep, and makes sure to get it no matter what happens. I put her in her bed, did some laundry, and some dusting as well. I'm just preparing tomorrow for the little lunch date that I've got planned. I'm just worried about Hungarian though.

To be fair, I've been scared of them for a while. The side that nobody sees is the one that I've been unfortunate enough to see. I know that a lot of people may say that it will subside once time passes, but I'm not sure. This is something that has been going on for a while.

I'm just so scared. They know that I'm still technically married, and yet they keep on trying to pursue me. I've been trying to tell them that I'm not interested, because of the fact that I don't think I'll be able to get into another relationship - especially with them - because of the love that I still have for Arjun. I don't know if they will eventually get the message, but I guess we will have to see.

I'm also about to go see if the shrikhand is done resting up in the fridge. I know that it's Mason's favorite, so I made it specifically for him. I made sure to add lots more pistachios, and make it the way that he loves it. I know he's going to go crazy when he sees that.

I can't really leave out Hungarian from the scenario though. Considering how close they are to the rest of them, then leaving them out is not the greatest option for all of us.

I know that eventually, I will have to tell Mason and everyone about what's really going on, because I can't tell them forever. How much longer should I keep that secret?

******

I can't help but feel kind of weirded out at the whole thing. "Hungarian" is an odd name to give someone, which is weird, because nobody in Mason's immediate friends and family circle is Hungarian. Mason's got Lebanese, Irish, and English, Sarah's got Lebanese and Armenian, and Cody and Cole have Chinese and other European in them. It's weird.

I'm drawing conclusions that Hungarian was someone that was rather close to them, and was someone that was trying to hit on her, but that's all I kind of have. I may have the paints, but the brushes aren't good enough to generate a sufficient picture of what's going on. It's up to me to find those brushes.

Cody and Cole are here, bringing whatever food they can put. Cody is wheeling in, with a little bag in his hand, and he hands it to us. "For you and Nathan. Enjoy. I know you guys absolutely love cookies, so I tried to make them and not burn them."

I take the bag, with a smile, because cookies are something that you can never go wrong with. "There's also a bottle of wine that you, Sarah, and Mason can enjoy. I don't know how well you will like it, but it's one of my favorites, so we will see how that goes."

I take the contents of the bag out so that I can put some in the fridge, which include the wine and cookies. "Let me help you," Cody says, as he wheels into the kitchen to put some things in the fridge and help me with stuff on the counter. I look at the counter, and something on his wrist catches my eye, and strikes up a memory that I buried deep down.

On his wrist, the word, "Magyar," is tattooed on there, which is like the snip of scissors that sends my heart plunging to the depths of my stomach.

Why? "Magyar" is "Hungarian," in Hungarian.