The same road, the same bus stop. In this area, stored experiences aged almost four years. Hardly devoid of fading hopes and conflicts. Here in this exile, hundreds of miles away from home, I crossed many difficult moments that changed my outlook on the world, life, and people. To think about the approaching graduation day, my heart fluttered under the withered leaves of nostalgia. Even if I return someday, it won’t be the same.

Today, here I am, despite all the setbacks, the invisible wars raging in the background, and my own demons. I threw them all behind my back for the sake of completing my thesis, the last milestone in this long journey. Yet the world never ceased to sneer at my sacrifices.

Who thought I will be standing here for over an hour, waiting for someone I forced myself to work with for reasons that no longer existed? Still, I preferred being stood off than becoming the passersby’s center of attention.

“So… Sorry…Sorry… So…Sorry,”

The echoes of a voice howling in the air, alerting people and winning their scorn. Everyone was curious to whom those barely pronounced excuses were directed. They came hundreds of meters away, yet spectators managed to spot me as the receiving end.

Panting, the wobbly voice kept cutting the sentences. “I slept too long…” Louder and louder, as if waking up dead. “And I missed the tram… then I remembered… I have forgotten the research draft… am I… am I late?”

Should I fake oblivion?

No chance it will work… I have tried it before…

In defeat, I stared at Cali’s red face, gasping for a breath. My lips pursed tight, blocking the explosive chaos of meaningless anger. At least, she could have called and informed me of her unforeseen lateness or, at best, answered her phone.

“And my phone charge is out…”

“...”

At least her voice calmed down.

“You could just start without me.”

“...”

I sighed, cooling the uprising vexation. One of the main reasons why I preserved a calm facade materialized in her frustrating hesitation to directly look at my eyes. She prattled the entire of her petty excuses while her glances fell everywhere except towards me.

The whole purpose behind co-authoring the undergraduate thesis stemmed not from my genuine desire for cooperation but in favor of certain needs, some related to Mr. Marchetti, some related to his daughter, and some related to my own reputation on the campus. Well, all of the aforementioned necessities parched among new unsought developments in my life. What's left? A burden who strove to leech from my effort.

Too bad I can’t change what was already set on the official paper.

Burying the annoyance by taking a deep breath, I walked ahead. At the tip of my tongue, no words I could say to appease her anxiety, and If I did, it would be a flagrant lie.

This time, what startled my sensors, she let me lead the way while she followed from behind in blind obedience. More than two steps backward. Moreover, contrary to her loudmouth character, she didn’t speak of other topics to create a distraction from her mistake.

In my wonder about explaining this exotic, docile behavior, my mind stalled around our last interactions. I remembered the fear crawling up her face, ripping her defensive shell as well as mirroring my misconduct. I admitted. Back then, the control over my emotions loosened, and regrets over that slip hunted my conscience ever since. However, some people forget quickly while others possess thick skin. And the two of those traits created the pillars of Cali’s character.

Then, again, what lurked behind this tamed behavior of her?

While approaching the library, the number of stolen stares increased according to the density of the crowd. I occupied the attraction center yet again while the distance separating Cali from me grew.

For a moment, another possibility of these peculiar manners of hers broadened my horizon. Perhaps, the circulating rumors; on the loose killer… Spelled out the oddity. Thanks to Hanna Marchetti, my fame broke to another level. Who wished to associate with me anymore?

Like a blooming rose in early spring, a certain brilliant red intrigued my mind. I paused, my concern encompassing the vastness of the law department parking lot. Scurtning the roving individuals while searching for a familiar face.

From behind, a sudden hit jerked me forward. “Sorry…Sorry…”

Today, she apologized a lot. Interesting?

As soon as I turned, Cali’s features fluctuated between shyness and anxiety. Her hand waved in front of her face, hiding the contradiction. I confirmed the existence of a problem when she didn’t ask why I stopped so suddenly, like her usual self.

I neglected the stationed red car and launched an interrogation. “Have you even started writing the second part of the first chapter?

“Of course,” her cheeks puffed up, mad at the suggestion, “I am just stuck in the discussion about the new law of witness protection.”

I retreated, albeit unsure of anything, especially of what caused her odd behavior. “Ok then, we will go to the library, revise what we had already written, and prepare the outline for the second chapter before we meet our supervisor.” But, in my heart, this matter became secondary compared to the reason behind the stationed red car in the law department parking lot.

“Yeah,” she jolted, swallowing air. The same look that refused to confront me. Her gaze escaped mine, whereas I was too occupied with Olvera and Madeline Fry’s presence to dwell on each insecure hint.

The whole period I spent in the library, I waited every moment for the abrupt arrival of Madeline Fry, her contemptuous stares ordering me to accompany her; considering I became the new slave of her boss. The thought ravaged my pride like maggots ravaging a dead carcass. Even the oblivious Cali noticed my garbled focus. Out of fear, out of guilt, she didn’t demand an explanation.

As soon as the appointed hour arrived, I jumped from my seat, relieved of two things; Madeline not showing up and half of the graduation thesis.

On the way to the supervisor’s office, Cali’s silence spoke aloud of her ongoing character change that grew positively in my view. I awaited her comment to question my repetitive glances over the windows. Instead, she babbled about Hanna Marchetti, since she thought I hoped for a source to satisfy my curiosity about my ex-girlfriend’s current life, which was totally what I wanted, and in no way, I will initiate a conversation in this direction.

Whenever a chance presented itself, across the windowpanes I would scan the parking lot angles looking for the red car. Confirming or refuting its presence. To my puzzlement, it was still stationed in the same spot. Which meant I was still at the risk of being called out by Madeline or August or both.

Previously, Madeline said she didn’t wish to tarnish August’s reputation by associating with me. Then what miracle had brought her here? What did she want? Or did August want from me? Couldn’t she choose another, less controversial location to meet me? Where was she in the first place?

“Welcome.” The secretary’s visage faintly frowned upon recognizing me. What a colossal effort? Those rumors reached even managerial ears, “We have an appointment with professor Lowery?”

“Professor Lowery?”

“Yes?” I confirmed, solely concerned about the look in his eyes and hating it.

“I am sorry, but professor Lowery left us about a weak ago?”

“What?... Like it’s not here for the appointment? Or like she had resigned and left?”

His voiceless response and marveled expressions clarified a lot, “why didn’t I hear anything? You should have informed us of her departure. She is our supervisor. What we are going to do now?”

“We sent a notification to all her students one week before her departure,” he glared at me sending another meaning with cover words, “if you have attended your class regularly you may have heard about it.” he preyed Cali from behind me and added, “your colleague had even signed the form to change supervisor.”

“Really…” I spilled the syllable slowly as I turned toward Cali’s flustered face. “Why didn’t I hear of it?” Her voice rose to defend herself. “I tried to tell you back then,…. But… But you were so angry…. about the breakup and everything… .” Her fingers danced in the air, helping to add emphasis to the explanation.

“Why you didn’t tell me this morning?”

“I was so late,... You were so angry… Then I… I forget. ” The same voice, the same hesitation. The same mediocre mockery. It was what I found most unbearable about her. Everything paled in comparison. What she was getting from this? Aside from my loathsome. A momentary laugh? A flitting feeling of satisfaction?

I refused to make a scandal out of this… Misplaced trick? Miserable revenge? I asked the secretary, “Who is our new supervisor?” And he pointed to the just-opened door behind me.

Up to this instant, nothing left to provoke me, save the unfolding scene at the office doorstep. I withheld my breath, not because of irritation or anger. My jaw hardened, unable to allow a humble greeting… Out of shock.

“Kieran McCarthey, … Finally, I was waiting for you.”

Albeit the beaming light surging over the unlashed curtains bathed the interior with innocent warmth, the chill confined my perceptions, freezing them into a trance.

Cali braved the inside of the office, leading the way. While I staggered at the doorway, wasted. She slammed our work on the desk and run outside the same as she came. All the way, her eyes never crossed mine, even for a second, forever down and removed. Yet I got drunk on the details of her unsettling face. The machine-like expressions. Guilt, or maybe regret, pulled off within her departure.

“Thank you, miss Harisson for coming today.” The voice came hasty and low, carrying a strange pleasure denoting victorious glee. I bet she didn’t hear our new supervisor giving his thanks.

And once more, and face to face, I was left alone with Mr. Milford Macias…

In all our three meetings, I was never his equal. He always appeared when he held a form of authority above me. Why would this man be obsessed with having some kind of power over someone such as myself?

A repressed fear? An inferiority complex?...

From me?...

No, of course, it has nothing to do with me as a person. It must be from the weight of my name. From the McCarthey name.

The silence was awkward…

“See!... I can make your friends betray you for mere bonus points,…” He closed the curtain before he focused on my direction. “It shows how fragile those kinds of relationships are.”

“...” The silence was far merciful, more bearable.

“Aren’t you impressed?” His head shook, subtly.

The comfortable chair received the free fall of his weight while the desk in front supported his elbows. The intertwined fingers created a bridge to nest his chin. I could hear the air going in, then out of his lungs as he whispered, “hmm, no?”

Unwillingly, my head shook left and right, in slow unimpressed motion, reverberating, “hmm, no.”

“Actually, I am joking.” He leaned backward, switching his attitude to a casual one. The atmosphere tuned according. “Don’t get mad at her, she had nothing to do with it. I forced her to.”

“I don’t find any difference.”

He threw an apprehensive glance. “Alas, you are so cruel,” between dread and comprehension. “I pity her. She didn’t want to understand that you are such a jerk, whereas she was so afraid that you will hate her for pulling this trick on you.”

“...”

Am I seeing crocodile tears? She had already done worst though, not on purpose.

“I mean, she didn’t want to believe that you were exploiting her feelings for you from the beginning, so subtle you excel at dressing your goals. Even this co-authoring thing. You made her believe that you were helping her ace the evaluation, but in truth, you were helping yourself.”

A voice in my head told me if I won’t stop him, he will go on and on about broad false assumptions. I needed to shut him up, or else. “Ok, ok, I am a vicious jerk and you are no better than me.”

What between Cali and myself was a fair exchange, a contract. I let her take credit for my thesis, and I will… I will what? Those goals don’t exist anymore… Yet here I am fulfilling my part of the bargain till the end.

“What do you want?” I sounded cold, indifferent, and slightly disrespectful, but not rude. This marked the first time I offered such a rebellious style in his presence.

“Watch your mouth. I can make you fail.” Maybe he reprimanded me, however, no anger nor irritation threaded his voice. It motivated me to press harder.

“I will postpone submitting the thesis. I don’t mind repeating the year.”

Now, at last, an expression caused me satisfaction, although as quick as a sunray lost in a sea of his calmness. I rushed, “can we get to the point?”

His gaze fluttered beyond, then back towards the wooden desk separating us. It dawdled on the mass of papers left by Cali. The tips of his finger seized its surface, then stamped a fingerprint, sliding a trail to the nearest edge.

“I gave you a personnel invitation…” He eyed me, more like a glare, “you didn’t attend my welcoming party at the firm.”

There was no merit in extracting a verbal answer for a subject he already established its finality. But the very reasons he desired a concrete confirmation magnified my interest. Hence, I kept quiet.

“I read your resignation letter.” His gaze jumped periodically among objects on the desk and me. “It took me by surprise… It took me by surprise your willingness to lose all the merit you worked hard to accumulate because you refuse to work with me.”

“You threatened me.” I was honest and with honesty clung to an unsought discourtesy.

“You hate being controlled,” he used his hand to allude, “I admire that, but I didn’t threaten you. I blackmailed you and I am still blackmailing you.” His hand ended up thumping the same paper pile. A demonstration full of conflicting messages, tiptoeing on my nerves.

“Wrong. If you have anything to blackmail me with, you won’t bother pulling strings to present yourself today, here, in this office, as my new supervisor.”

He lifted his hands, waving surrender, “all right, all right, we have started on bad footing. Grant me the fortune to correct my mistake.” The smug smile that always succeeded in fuelling the enmity flames of my fire.

“Listen, if you think you will get an insider regarding matters concerning the general of the east or the reformers’ party, think again.” What a rookie mistake I just babbled. I knew it from the several blinking of his eyelids, the judgmental glances, and the brief pause.

“I think there is some kind of misunderstanding.”

“I agree.”

The silence walloped anew. My gaze straightened into a less invisible challenge. He lowered his head before he stood. The upper part of his body leaned forward, supported by two arms gluing on the desk surface, “how about I will grant you an opportunity regarding….”

“I am not that eager to graduate,” I interrupted with a lie.

“Allow me to finish before you decide. How about we get an opportunity to talk privately and sort out our misunderstandings…”

“I…”

“Shush…” a finger rose into the middle of his lips, “If we don’t arrive at an agreement we will part peacefully…”

“I…”

“Shush, If you refuse, say goodbye to submitting your thesis this year, or the next year, or until I lose this privilege over you. I will make it my mission to not let you graduate from this law school.”

Did he even have this kind of power? Maybe, he is bluffing…

Still, I didn’t fancy even the possibility of giving my father or Alfred a call to help me graduate. If so, where was the point in me leaving home, isolating myself from the authority of the McCarthey name?

I can’t swallow the humiliation, or withstood the blows to my ego… It will be an immense shame that will last through the whole of my professional career. Therefore, I spent the next two hours waiting for Milford Macias to finish his lecture.

The students crowded the lecture hall, a rarity in the late period of the evening, especially for a new professor. The marvel left my mind when I discovered most of them were girls.

The farthest possible seat, in the left corner, I favored as a strategic lookout point, then I settled down, bored, counting seconds and minutes. My decision to attend his lecture stemmed from a childish attempt to distract him during the lesson. Asking hard to answer controversial questions topped the list of my preferred methods. However, the magic turned against the magician in the first ten minutes.

Despite the lecture being an introduction for the first-year students, I found myself diving into the lesson atmosphere. Even, sometimes, in between my lips, I answered the questions he applied to address the different lecture topics. Honestly, he was an excellent educator, a master at drawing student attention.

“How about someone gives us an example of a crime in which the intention of the criminal is punished by law,” although the distance separating us, he demanded while looking in my direction.

“The one sitting alone in the back.” He is planning to implicate me somehow. “Can you give us an example?”

All eyes turned toward me, and I was an individual who hated to be the center of attention, especially in a peopled and closed space.

Considering the circulating rumors, I had hoped my face was still unknown to the first-year students, “a first-degree murder,” in particular, regarding this response.

Zero in a million chance, the underlying aim of this question suggested innocence. Anyway, no worry, I placed myself in this situation deliberately, so I won’t feel over conscious when I will kill him later.

After the lecture closure, a large number of students gathered in a circle. The majority of them fitted in the column of softer gender. Mr. Milford Macias occupied the circle core. Thanks to his popularity, no one cared about the awkward position he plotted to place me in.

Left and right topics rained over his head, most of them veered off the lecture theme. Their goal was not to understand the discipline but to exchange conversations with the new professor. My distant and high position provided me with the exclusive fortune of observing him. I watched as he guarded against the personal inquiries with a lowered head, a fake indifferent attitude toward girls’ subtle and vulgar winks while distracting his hands by collecting the materials.

My lips couldn’t help but curve into a wicked smile. I just uncovered a unique weakness of his. Beyond those clumsy techniques in dealing with women, he quickly became defensive against their attacks.

When he pulled up his head, our gaze intertwined, I didn’t hide my smile, let him see it, let him know of my illumination about one of his embarrassing shortcomings.

Following the scattered crowds, as well as the departure of the majority of the student, I expected to meet him at the department exit. My wait stretched long. The vexation and boredom rubbed my bottom line. Partly out of curiosity, partly to vent steam, I picnicked near the parking lot. It grew almost empty. Except, from a shiny red metal stationed in the same spot. Alone. Without a sign of a previous movement.

With all Madeline’s undried passion for work, it sounded impossible for her to not leave the campus at this hour. It was around seven o’clock.

In wonder, I approached, auditing the car around its four corners. Doubts undulating in my mind… Only fluctuated at a sudden buzz.

The car’s lock was unlatched.

Akin to a thousand needle stings, the terror fluttered under my spin. Not ready to meet her just yet, I considered running away. Curse the fact of we humans birthed wingless. Because If I had wings, like terrorized flocks, I would be already flying. However, if I run now, I will cringe, more than I already do, each time I will encounter her.

“Get in the car.” from behind, the breeze carried a resolute order. It didn’t sound like the familiar scorn I am used to…

At a lightning speed, we got off the campus ground onto the highway. Regardless of how insanely fast Milford Macias was driving, I had passed out. My eyes iced wide open, gone amidst the haze. Solely, one question wallowing in the ups and downs of my breath; wasn’t this August’s car? Operated by Madelin? Then Why was Milford Macias sitting at its wheel?