I race across campus, running late because Yilmaz kept me back, when I hear the last voice I want to hear. "Wahaj! Wait up!"

"Ayaaz, Salam."

"Didn't you hear me calling you?" He's panting, trying to catch his breath.

"Sorry, I didn't hear you. I'm in a rush; I'm late to pick up Layan and Roya." I was hoping my cousin wouldn't be so persistent. I should know better.

My excuses seem to fly over his head because he doesn't bat an eyelid.

"So, did you think about my proposal?" My cousin Ayaaz is my aunt Noor's oldest son, and despite not attending medical school, he made it his mission to follow me and pick me up even though I have my grandmother old car.

"I told you already; I am a married woman," I said as I showed him the wedding ring on my finger - I'll never get anywhere if he follows me.

I feel guilty for the way his eyes fall, so I put my hand down.

"I'm sorry, Ayaaz. You know I made a promise, and I'm under a lot of pressure right now," I say, feeling the panic emergence in my chest again when I think about it all. Coupled with the crushing guilt, I feel for not giving him the exact reason why I don't want to be married to him; it's all starting to become too much.

"B-but you aren't married anymore" He responds. "You are a widow,". He studied my eyes as he said those words.

I felt as my heart began to break when he reminded me, and I remembered. He is gone. (Allah yarhamu)

Ayaaz looked up for a second, and then he huffed a breath before saying "Come on, let's go home."

"I can't, I need to pick up Layan and Roya," I said as I could feel that my voice was so thick from holding back tears.

"I understand," he whispers. "I wish you wouldn't be like this, but I understand."

"I'm sorry," I say again. "Call me when you get there? Let me know you've arrived safely."

"I will," I say as I walk to my car, and then it's just me and the road.

My heart feels heavy as I pull beside their school to find that they were only two people remaining; Layan and Roya.

I waited for the girls to unlock the door and they quickly slipped inside, buckling their seat-belt.

I could feel their scrutinizing gaze. "I am so sorry," I speak as I waited for the girls to chat.

"Are you planning on driving us to the house today, or should we get out and walk?" Layan asked, snidely.

The impudent tone set me off, and instead of giving them a lecture about it, I just looked down at my watch, counting the seconds and calculating in my head the estimated time of arrival to the house as I kept repeating to myself that their mother should be the one to scold them.

Unconsciously, my leg started to shake as I remembered what comes after getting home and that I needed to get back to try to finish Rewriting the paper, and then I need to help my grandmother in cleaning the house before I go to the cafe to wash the dishes.

Melancholy fills me when I look at the girls in the back seat to find the resemblance they hold to their father; My deceased husband. He was 43 years old when I was only 19, but unlike popular belives, I wasn't forced to marry him, but I wanted to. After only a year of being married, he is now gone.

I push the feelings away when I find that we have arrived at our house which is located inside a secured gate, it wasn't because we were rich or anything, but on the contrary, since my whole family works in the mansion that is owned by the Chamberlains.

"Salam," I spoke as I sow my aunt sitting inside the house flipping through Black Magazine with her five-year-old son watching tv beside her.

"Salam," My aunt replied before she started screaming in rage, "You have stayed here for some time so you should know that people greet others when they enter," My aunt, Selen said to Layan and Roya who followed me inside.

"Hey others," Layan grunted before she went upstairs and Roya followed as I just rolled my eyes at their reaction.

Only three and four years separating me from Layan and Roya but I could never understand them. It is like I have to communicate with a different generation that is so immature.

"I swear, I will die early because of those devils" My aunt, Selen said.

"Tell me about it," I said before I threw myself on the couch.

"You are the reason this is happening to you since you could have said that you didn't want the legal guardianship that your late husband granted you after his death and they would have left with their mother, as they wanted and we would all be free, and you could return to acting like a 20-year-old instead of taking the responsibilities of a 40-year-old." My aunt ranted.

I huffed, I have been hearing this lecture from everyone for the last six months since my husband died, but no one could understand me.

"Speaking of the devils, where are Emir, Leyla, and Deniz," I asked as I looked toward my aunt.

"Emir and Leyla are playing upstairs while Deniz is still in his so-called lap doing some experiments and Allah Yester since last time he almost blew up this house." I laughed as I remembered a month ago when he said that he almost found a way to kill the cockroaches that kept appearing in his sister's room.

"Could you please check up on them and at 6 pm inform them that their mother would be outside waiting for them," I pleaded as I remembered the paper I still didn't write and that I only have this week to submit it, and since the devils will go to their mom's for the weekend this will be my only opportunity to finish it.

"Fine," She said as I thanked her by hugging her as she brushed me off and I went upstairs to the room that I share with my cousin, Eylul.

I pulled out my books and laptop. I boot up the computer and load up my saved copy of the paper Yilmaz tore to shreds in front of me. I still can't even get my head around what happened.

As an undergraduate freshman, I saw Professor Yilmaz as the hot-but-brooding, bad-tempered, intimidating but brilliant teacher that he is. All the girls thought he was hot; all the guys were scared of him. As I moved on to my Junior year, I desperately want to do well; to impress him. I'm competitive by nature, but I was never good at school, so I was shocked when I was accepted to a prestigious school such as this, and from that day I tried to prove that I belong here.

He can be ruthless and scary, but I think he does it to get the best out of people. Sometimes, I don't know if my best is good enough.

I knew this paper wasn't my best work, yet I handed it in any way, knowing there was a possibility I'd encounter his wrath. Whether he knew about my personal life or not, he doesn't seem the type to give anyone special treatment — which I didn't want. I needed peace of mind that I could take full credit for my grades, and not worry about getting haram money.

Although I should be grateful for the opportunity, I'm annoyed. At myself for breaking down in front of him, for telling him how much I'm struggling, and for him having to give me a second chance. I don't understand why he did that.

The way he looked at me today; I never want to see that disappointment on his face again. I've seen it many times, directed at other students, but never at me. But there was something else there, too. Curiosity or wonder.

Something maybe even a little darker.