"Well, I've graded your essays. The grades are up. That was pretty much the last thing that could seal your grade, so if you did good on that, then your grade is fine. If you didn't, then tough luck. I'll see you all next week for your final. Do your homework, and study. It's not going to be a cakewalk," my professor tells the class, as I write down the last of the notes on the lecture's slide.

My hand feels like someone drug it through a paper shredder because of all the writing that I had to do. I flop my notebook shut, and take it to shove it down into my backpack. I'm more than ready to get out of here and go back home and back into the comfort of my house, instead of sitting in a cold, miserable room with hard plastic against my back.

My best friend, Usha, closes her binder and puts the binder down into her backpack to go study for the final next week. As everyone puts their notes away, the professor says, "Ashmita, can I talk to you a little bit after class, if you don't mind?"

I can feel the punch of my heart dropping in the depths of my stomach. A few gasps burst from corners of the room, and wispily fill my ears. I zip up my backpack, and look up to see the many pairs of eyes in the classroom glued onto me. The look on their faces has the underlying message of, "You're in trouble. You're dead."

I press my lips together and say, "Sure. I don't see why not." The only thing I'm hoping is that she doesn't confront me about being in some sort of serious trouble, or give me the news that I'm going to flunk out of college one semester shy of graduation.

Even after I say that, in a tone that's calmer than a river, everyone still looks at me with the gaze that can burn holes into a carpet. Usha gives me the side eye, with the "Are you going to be okay?" look on her face. She actually looks like the professor is going to lock me in here and burn the whole building down.

I look at her, and mouth, "Yes, I am. Don't worry about me." After everyone is done staring me down enough to pin me to the wall, they take their things and hurry out of the classroom, like someone just shouted that Zac Efron was standing right in the hallway. Usha slings her backpack over her shoulder, and says, "I'll be right outside. Take your time."

I nod, and then get up to go see what my professor wants. I take a deep breath, while tucking a lock of my dark hair behind my ear, and walk up to her desk. With my hands fused together, I say, "Is everything okay, Professor Kidman?"

My professor closes her grade book, and puts her hands on her desk. "You're not in trouble, Ashmita. Don't worry. I just wanted to talk to you about your essay. First of all, it was really well written, so good job on that. And second of all, I just wanted to offer my condolences on everything that happened," my professor tells me, with her tone shifting from praising to sympathetic.

My fingers grasp themselves tighter, as a lump starts to form at the back of my throat. My breathing starts to become a little bit heavier, but I swallow that lump to the depths of my stomach, forgetting about it as it disintegrates in the pits of my body.

"It's okay. It was a while back anyways. What's done is done."

Professor Kidman notices my obvious discomfort, and says, "You're getting uncomfortable. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked. I just wanted to make sure that everything was okay in your life now, considering how messy it was when you were a child."

I smile a little bit, and say, "It's okay. I have an awesome dad who takes care of me. I can't ask for anything better."

Professor Kidman raises an eyebrow, and says, "I thought he was in jail." I chuckle a little bit, thinking about the possibility of Mason in jail. The possibility of Mason getting arrested, or the police actually questioning him for something, is the same possibility that it'll snow in San Jose.

After thinking about the ridiculousness of that idea, I say, "I technically have two dads. One who made me biologically, and one who raised me and cared for me. The latter is the one I'm talking about."

Professor Kidman's eyes widen, and she says, "Oh, I'm sorry! I should've figured that out. My bad."

I shake my head. "No, it's okay. A lot of people get confused when I say I have two dads technically. When I say 'my dad,' I'm mostly talking about Mason. I almost never talk about the other one."

Professor Kidman nods, and says, "Well, it's late. I think we all want to go home. I'll see you next week for the final, okay?"

I nod, and say, "Yes, absolutely. Have a great day."

She smiles, and says, "You too." I walk out of the classroom, and no shocker, Usha is standing there, on her phone, probably scrolling Pinterest. "Usha, you ready? I'm done," I tell her, and her head shoots up from her phone.

"Finally. I was expecting you to find a skeleton here, holding an IPhone," she says, and I roll my eyes. I've dealt with Usha's sarcasm that's saltier than potato chips for way too long, and I'm surprised that I haven't died of sodium poisoning yet.

"Anyways, what was that all about? She didn't think you cheated on your paper, right?" I think to myself about the possibility of that as well. One, I like to make things myself. Two, the fear of Mason's reaction is more than enough for me to not cheat.

I scoff, and say, "Mason would kill me if he found out I cheated. And no, she just wanted to make sure everything was okay after I wrote the paper on the incident. She asked about the paternal doucheface though."

Usha's eyes widen, and she says, "Oh, that's gotta suck. Don't worry, you have another awesome father who loves you twice as much, and is twice as hot."

I gag a little bit at her admiration. Yes, Mason's awesome, but my 21 year old best friend thinks he's hot. He's literally old enough to run for the President of the United States for a solid two elections.

"Mason is twice your age, Usha. Why don't you find someone else, hm?" I ask.

Usha rolls her eyes. "I'm not saying I have a crush on him. Come on, Ashmita. Even you admit he looks hot without trying." Well, she's making it harder and harder for me to distinguish admiration and attraction.

I tilt my head, and say, "Yes, but that doesn't mean that I have a crush on my adoptive father. This isn't Wattpad."

Usha chuckles a little bit, and says, "Trust me, I've seen worse than that on Wattpad." I shudder, thinking about the dark side of the seemingly semi innocent teen reading website.

I roll my eyes, and say, "Don't tell me. I'm hungry, and my appetite is not something that I want to kill."

Usha chuckles. "Don't worry. I know how much you love your Gujarati food. It's your favorite."

I smile, and say, "Thanks, now I'm craving Gujarati food." Usha and I just giggle a little bit more, as we walk down the steps of the building. When we get to the bottom, our eyes scan the premises to look for our other two friends.

Surely enough, we find our two other friends, Rakesh and Chris, who have their noses buried in books. We smile, and go over to greet them. "Heyo, guys. How was class?" Usha greets.

Rakesh closes his book, and says, "Terrible. I can't wait for finals to be over so I can go home and spend winter break in my room with cookies and YouTube. What about you guys? Any word on the internship, Ashmita?" Rakesh complains, as I shrug.

"Nothing yet. I've been checking my email like a madman. Mason has been crossing his fingers for me."

Chris smiles, and says, "Trust me, we're also crossing our fingers for you. We promise."

I smile, and then catch a glimpse of the clock. The time reads 4:34, which means that I have to get home before Mason starts to get too worried. "I'm out. See you guys later," I say, and everyone waves goodbye and I head off.

********

"I'm home!" I call, as I open the door to the house. The faint smell of Lebanese food wafts throughout the air, making me even more hungry than I should be. I feel like I had to walk through miles of desert in order for me to find something edible that's sufficient enough to not kill me.

Now I really want to go and wallow in my bed and eat until I hate myself. "Hey, Ashmita. How was college?" Nathan asks, as he writes down something on a worksheet. "Nothing much, bro. How was school?" I ask, as I walk up the stairs to see him.

He shrugs. "Eh, it could've been worse." His tone is indifferent, almost as if he doesn't want to talk about anything with me. I feel him, but of course, I have to tease him about everything that he may be feeling.

I give him a cheeky smile, and say, "Aw, you didn't hear anything from your crush? I'm sowwy." I talk in an annoyingly cute voice, as I ruffle his hair, and he swats it away from his head.

"You're so annoying sometimes," he says, and I just chuckle.

I hear footsteps coming down the stairs, and the next thing you know, Mason comes downstairs, with a big old smile on his face. "Hey, Ashmita. How was college?" he asks, as he snakes an arm around me and plants a kiss on my forehead.

I hug him back and say, "College was fine. My teacher wanted me to stay back a little bit because she was concerned about what happened."

Mason lets go of me, heads into the kitchen, and says, "What was she concerned about?"

I follow him into the kitchen, because my stomach is in dire need of some fuel right now. "Well, remember how I wrote the paper on what happened?"

I ask, as Mason gets a plate out. He looks at me, with a look of confusion painted on his face at first, and then his jaw drops and says, "Ohhhhhhh. I get what you mean now. Your professor is so sweet for asking you about that. It's nice to know that someone cares that much to ask if you're okay."

He hands me the plate piled high with food, because classes drain you out like anything.

I take it, with a big smile, and say, "I just said that I now have an awesome family that takes amazing care of me. She was glad about that."

I sit down at the dining table to eat, and Mason sits on the couch. "Don't worry. I make sure to let everyone know that I have an awesome daughter who I wouldn't trade for anything. At all."

I smile, and just continue to eat my food. Nathan pipes up from the other table, saying, "Ashmita, what's the capital of Slovakia?"

With my mouth full, Mason and I yell in unison, "Bratislava!" I start to cough because a little bit of the food got stuck in my throat. My eyes start to blur from the little bit of tears that fill them. Mason leans over and give me a little pat on the back.

"Chew, Ashmita. I don't want you to choke to death." He walks over to the kitchen sink, while I hear him grab a glass, and I swallow my food. My throat is still a little bit itchy from the coughing. Mason comes over and sets a glass of water down next to me.

I smile, and say, "Thanks." I take it, and sip it to relieve myself.

Nathan comes over to the couch, where Mason is sitting, and says, "Like father, like daughter. Knowing more world capitals than people in your family."

Mason chuckles, and says, "Can you blame me? Lebanese families are huge. I went to my aunt's wedding as a child back in Tripoli, and I didn't even know half of the people there existed. I swear, they're as large as the population of California. Next thing you know, Salma Hayek is Sarah's cousin."

I chuckle, and say, "Mason, you have never even seen Indian families. Didn't my mom show you her wedding album? Half of the people are strangers. Usha tells me that your parents introduce you to your father's brother in law's son's cousin's nephew's great aunt and you're supposed to act like you're know them. Gee, now I'm concerned that Rakesh is my twentieth cousin that's eleven times removed."

Mason just starts laugh, and he says, "No, he's probably not related. But yes, Indian families are even larger."

Suddenly, a sharp ringing fills the air, and the next thing you know, Mason whips out his phone and swipes up. "Hello? Ah yes, how's everything going back at work?" Mason starts to talk, and he scurries out of the room.

I look back at Nathan, and say, "Next thing you know, he starts cursing in Arabic."

Nathan raises an eyebrow and says, "Arabic? He'll do French, Arabic, and English. Get some popcorn, and watch the show. This is going to be good." I chuckle, and then lean back a little bit to hear Mason have a little bit of a meltdown when it comes to work.

********

I'm just staring at the ceiling, with no ounce of sleepiness able to consume me. The sheets are tangled all over my body, yet nothing seems to be in a comfortable position. I feel so hot, but so cold at the same time.

I can't get her out of my head. Her screams as I sat there, helpless, as she suffered only a few feet away from me. The thought of his hands on her, doing the unthinkable. I guess Halloween has decided to replace Christmas, because the ghosts are coming back up to haunt me.

I hum to myself in an attempt to calm myself, but nothing is working. I try to release the sheep from the barn to run throughout my mind. "One, two, three, four, five, six..." I count, but nothing is working. The sheep seem to fade in the horizon, and merely disintegrate after I have said the numbers. "Count in Gujarati. That can help," I think to myself, as I shift a little bit in my bed.

"Ek, be, tra, chaar, paanch, chha, saat, aath, nav, das." I think to myself, as the Gujarati numbers come to me in like a simple breeze caressing my skin. Still, the sheep seem to tug at a rope that keeps my eyelids open, and that keeps my pupils fixated on the roof of my room.

I groan a little bit to myself, and think, "Tonight's going to be fun." As I continue to lie there and stare, I hear the familiar voice of Mason call out, "Ashmita? Are you still awake?"

I lift my head up a little bit, and say, "Yeah, I am. Why aren't you asleep?"

I hear Mason's soft footsteps lead into my room, and he says, "I couldn't sleep. Something just wasn't right. What about you? Are you still thinking about your mom?" I look over at Mason, who is almost completely consumed by darkness, and I nod.

One of Mason's hands goes onto my forehead, while the other goes to flick away a strand of hair that's floating on top of my face. "Go to sleep. I'm right here. I'm always here," he says, in his calm voice that is enough to put a baby to sleep.

One of my hands goes to grasp Mason's free hand, which he gladly grasps. To speed up my sleep, Mason sings, "I hope the days come easy and the moments pass slow, and each road leads you where you wanna go. And if you're faced with a choice, and you have to choose, I hope you choose the one that means the most to you."

Surely enough, sleep decides to unlock the door into my mind and walk inside like nothing's happened. Mason's voice against my ears is like the perfectly warmed blanket that's enough to put me to sleep.

As I start to fall asleep, I drearily ask, "Mason. Do you think that I'm going to be like him?"

Mason stops his singing, and says, "Like who?"

I lift my eyelids slowly, and say, "Like Arjun. I don't want to be like him. I want to be good. I want to be better than him."

Mason smiles, and wispily says, "Of course not. You're so much better than him. You're smart, you're beautiful, you're good. You're strong, and you're someone that I have the great privilege of calling you my daughter. You are never going to be like that monster. I promise."

With that little speech, sleep completely decides to overtake me. I almost fall asleep completely, until I feel Mason place a kiss on my forehead and faintly say, "Good night, Ashmita. I love you." Right when I fall asleep, I'm reminded of how close I am to my goal.

My goal of not becoming a monster like Arjun was. The monster that stripped me of the woman who I listened to suffer only a few feet away. I'm reminded that I'm not as much of a liar and murderer as he is.

Or so I believe.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ah, so we get to know more about the incident that happened years earlier. So, what do you think was the deal when it came to this Arjun person? Anybody tried piecing together the info that's given? Let me know in the comments.

How are you guys liking it so far? Let me know how it is! See you in the next chapter!

Love you guys,

Shree