CHAPTER SIX
'Five For Five, One Missing'

SAYEED ESTATE, GOTHAM CITY — PRESENT DAYS

THE HOUSE WAS UNUSUALLY STILL, save for the occasional faint giggle or soft cooing from the other room, where Aidan and Tamar played—innocent and carefree, unaware of the weight pressing down on Maheen's chest. Their laughter, light and melodic, seemed to drift through the walls like a distant echo, a stark contrast to the suffocating silence she felt in the living room. It was as though she could feel the air around her thickening, wrapping itself around her, and with every shallow breath she took, the weight grew heavier.

Five envelopes sat in front of her on the coffee table, their crisp, smooth surfaces almost mocking her indecision. Each one contained a future, a path, a life that she could lead. Five schools, each with its own promises, each with its own challenges. Stanford. Harvard. Yale. Princeton. Columbia. The names of these prestigious institutions felt like foreign entities now, like an impossible distance she could never truly reach, yet she was standing on the edge of them, poised to leap into the unknown.

The sun was beginning to set, casting long, languid shadows across the walls, painting the room in hues of gold and amber. The fading daylight seemed to hold its breath, the transition between day and night mirroring the uncertain shift in her heart. Time felt suspended, but at the same time, it was slipping away, and she felt trapped in that in-between space. She should have been thrilled. She should have been excited for the future, for the world at her feet. But instead, there was only this endless sense of weight, as if the universe was holding its breath along with her. Every minute that passed, every decision she had to make, felt like a step closer to something she couldn't yet name.

Her parents wouldn't be home for another half hour, but Maheen knew she couldn't keep putting this off. The ticking clock sounded too loud now, and she couldn't bear the thought of waiting any longer, not with the weight of the decision pressing down on her. She could feel her pulse quicken as her fingers hovered over the first envelope—Stanford. The name was almost too much to bear. The memories tied to it. The expectations. The fear of the unknown.

Her chest tightened. She had worked for this, hadn't she? For three years, she had pushed herself, aimed high, reached for the stars. Her fingers brushed against the envelope, and a rush of conflicting emotions washed over her—anticipation, anxiety, fear. It was supposed to be exciting, to feel like an achievement, but all she felt was an aching void, the same one that seemed to reside in her whenever she thought about Jason. A quiet throb that she couldn't shake. The same hollow ache she had tried to ignore for so long, the one that never seemed to go away.

The memory of him—the last time they had been this uncertain, this unsure of the future—came to her unbidden, as it always did, like a shadow that refused to let her go. Her heart clenched at the thought of him, and for a moment, the world around her seemed to blur.

It was a late evening at Wayne Manor, the sky darkening with the promise of another Gotham night. The cool air of the rooftop had stung her skin as she and Jason sat together, their backs against the gravel of the manor's roof. Gotham stretched out before them, a city that never truly slept. A maze of lights and shadows, a tangled mess of life and chaos. They had climbed up here to escape, like they always did, to breathe in the night air, to be alone together and forget about everything that weighed on them.

They sat in comfortable silence for what felt like hours, the city's ever-present hum muted by the distance between them and the chaos below. Up on the roof of Wayne Manor, the weight of the world seemed to fade away, swallowed by the infinite expanse of stars above them and the darkness that stretched across Gotham. They were free here, if only for a moment—free to exist without expectations or the looming pressures of everything waiting for them down below.

It was Jason who finally broke the stillness, his voice unexpectedly softer than usual, as though the words he was about to say required more care than any he'd spoken before. His eyes were trained on the night sky, distant and thoughtful, tracing patterns that only he could see.

"You ever think about what you'll do after school?" he asked, his voice tinged with something Maheen couldn't place—a quiet vulnerability that was rare for him.

The question lingered in the air, heavy in its simplicity, and for a moment, Maheen didn't answer. She let the words hang between them, the weight of them pulling her thoughts inward. She glanced out at the skyline of Gotham, the way the city seemed to stretch on forever, full of people and stories she couldn't even begin to fathom. Her future seemed so far away, yet so incredibly close, and the uncertainty of it gnawed at her insides.

She smiled softly, a faint melancholy settling in her chest as she thought back on the countless nights she had spent buried in textbooks, notebooks scattered around her, the glow of the desk lamp the only light in the otherwise dark room. The hours spent crafting essays, studying random cases stolen from her mother's study, preparing for every possible outcome. Her life had always been about preparing for the future, always about moving forward, always about doing more. But now... now that the future was finally here, she wasn't sure what to make of it.

"I don't know," Maheen replied after a long pause, her voice quiet. "I always thought I'd help people. Maybe be a lawyer like mom. Or a doctor like Baba. I don't know—something that matters."

The words came out more easily than she expected, but they still felt like a declaration. She wanted to make a difference. She had to make a difference. It was the one thing that had always been clear to her. She wanted to help the world, fix the things that were broken. But the uncertainty of that path still loomed large in her mind. She wasn't sure how she was supposed to do that, or if she could.

Jason's gaze shifted then, and she felt the weight of it even before he spoke. His eyes met hers, and there was that familiar cocky grin tugging at his lips, one that always made her feel both comforted and uneasy all at once.

"A lawyer?" he asked, amusement lacing his tone. "You're gonna save Gotham with words?"

It should've been an easy joke, something to laugh off, but Maheen found herself pausing. She felt her chest tighten, the weight of his words sinking deeper than she cared to admit. She wanted to be able to laugh at it too. She wanted to brush off the doubts and pretend everything was as easy as he made it seem. But there was a quiet truth there that she couldn't escape. Words, arguments, courtroom battles—they could save people. They could be the difference between right and wrong, between life and death.

Her voice became firm, steady, as she looked at him, determined to not let her uncertainty show. "Not just Gotham," she said, her eyes locking with his. "The world."

Jason paused at that, his smirk faltering just slightly, as if taken aback by the seriousness in her voice. But it didn't last long. His usual cocky grin returned, and he leaned back on his elbows, gazing up at the stars again as if he hadn't a care in the world.

"Well, while you're off saving the world, I'll be here, making sure you don't forget about me."

The words were lighthearted, playful—Jason's way of hiding the deeper fears, the insecurities that he never quite let show. He would never admit it, but Maheen knew him well enough to see through the bravado. He was just as uncertain about the future as she was, though he would never say it aloud.

Maheen couldn't help but chuckle, nudging him with her shoulder. "Of course," she teased. "I'll still need someone to kick my ass at video games."

"I'll win every time," he said, his grin wide and confident, as if the idea of losing had never even crossed his mind. "Don't even doubt it."

There was something about his certainty that always grounded her. No matter what happened, no matter where life took them, she had always known Jason would be there. He believed in himself, in them, in the bond they shared, and she had always found comfort in that. There was no room for doubt in his mind, and in that certainty, she had found her own.

But now, with the future stretched out before her like a vast, empty ocean, she wasn't sure anymore. She wasn't sure of anything.

The memory lingered, bittersweet and sharp, as she pulled herself back to the present. The roof, the city, the comfort of his presence—they all seemed so far away now, distant like a dream she couldn't quite hold on to.

She had pushed the thoughts of him aside, had buried them beneath the mountain of decisions she had to make. The future felt like it was slipping through her fingers, like it was already too late to make the choices she had once been so certain about.

Maheen glanced back at the envelopes that lay in front of her, each one a promise, each one a door leading to a different world. Her fingers brushed over the first one again—Stanford. The anticipation of what lay inside the envelope weighed heavy, but it was the uncertainty of what she was leaving behind that caused her chest to tighten.

The paper crinkled as she slowly tore open the envelope, the sound filling the room. It was louder than she expected, as though it echoed with the decisions that would follow.

Stanford. Accepted. The word stared back at her from the paper, bold and unyielding.

And yet, as she stared at the letters on the page, there was no rush of excitement, no joy. Instead, all she could feel was the weight of what had come before. Jason's voice, so sure and steady, echoed in her mind. But even that wasn't enough to drown out the hollow ache in her chest—the ache that told her no matter what decision she made, something would always be missing.

Maheen exhaled shakily, her heart hammering against her ribs. The letter in her hands felt heavier than paper had any right to be, the words stamped in bold, official lettering staring back at her like a challenge. Accepted.

She read it again, and then again, but the letters didn't change. Stanford had said yes.

It should have felt exhilarating. The kind of moment she had dreamed of since she was a little girl, staying up past bedtime to watch courtroom dramas, imagining herself standing in those grand halls of justice, shaping the world with words alone. But as much as her mind grasped at the significance of it, her heart remained distant, untouched.

Because there was no one here to share it with. No voice beside her to break the silence, no playful teasing to make her roll her eyes, no easy laughter to lighten the weight pressing down on her chest. Jason wasn't here.

She could almost hear him in her head—Stanford, huh? You're really trying to outdo yourself, Princess. Gonna save the whole damn world while the rest of us are still figuring out our lives. He would've smirked, leaned back like he didn't have a care in the world, before nudging her shoulder. Just don't forget about us little people when you're busy changing the world, yeah?

Maheen's fingers moved before she could think, reaching for the next envelope. Yale.

She slid her nail under the flap, tore it open.

Accepted.

Her breath caught in her throat, her pulse erratic. She set it aside, but the excitement still didn't come. There was only a hollow feeling, a quiet ache that refused to fade.

Columbia. Accepted.

Harvard. Accepted.

Princeton. Accepted.

One after another, the words stacked up in front of her, a parade of open doors leading to different futures, different versions of herself she had yet to meet. The weight of them should have been crushing, exhilarating—something. Instead, all she felt was the sharp sting of absence.

This was everything she had worked for. Everything she had sacrificed sleep, social events, and sanity for. The proof that she was good enough, that she was capable, that she belonged in the spaces she had dreamed of. But the triumph felt muted, the colors of the moment washed out.

She imagined what it would have been like if Jason were still here. He would have snatched the letters from her hands, reading them out loud in some overly dramatic voice, stretching the syllables like an announcer at a championship game. Maheen Sayeed, five for five! Damn, May, you're really out here trying to make the rest of us look bad.

And she would have laughed—really laughed. A bright, full sound that would have filled the room, chased away the lingering shadows that wrapped around her now.

But Jason wasn't here.

The weight of that realisation pressed down on her all over again, like it did every time she reached for her phone only to remember she couldn't text him, couldn't call him. He had been so sure of her, of everything she would accomplish. And now, in the very moment he had always told her was inevitable, the moment she should have been celebrating... all she wanted was for him to be here.

Her fingers curled around the edges of the letters, the paper crinkling under her grip.

The sound of the front door unlocking startled her, jerking her out of her thoughts.

"Maheen!" her father's voice rang through the house, warm and full of familiarity. "Yalla, habibti, come here!"

She swallowed hard, blinking rapidly, trying to shake off the strange fog that had settled over her.

Later, she told herself. She would deal with the emotions later. Right now, she needed to get up, to move, to breathe.

With one last glance at the letters scattered across the coffee table, Maheen pushed herself to her feet and turned toward the door, forcing a small smile onto her face.

"Coming, Baba."

For now, she let herself be guided by the warmth of her family's voices, the gentle pull of familiarity anchoring her to the present. The quiet weight of the acceptance letters lingered in the back of her mind, but here—here was something tangible, something real. She walked down the hallway, past the framed moments of their lives frozen in time. Smiling faces stared back at her—her parents on their wedding day, a much younger version of herself grinning with a missing front tooth, Amir holding her on his shoulders with that same easy, protective smile she remembered so well. Then came the newer ones: her mother cradling Aidan and Tamar as newborns, their tiny faces peeking out from soft blankets; the twins covered in birthday cake on their first birthday; a candid shot of Maheen, half-asleep with Tamar curled up on her chest.

Her mother's laughter drifted from the dining room, light and full of affection, followed by the excited babbling of Aidan and Tamar. It was the kind of sound that made a house feel like a home.

As she stepped into the room, the golden glow of the chandelier bathed everything in soft warmth. The rich aroma of spiced tea and something faintly sweet lingered in the air. Her father stood near the dining table, loosening his tie, his expression softening as he caught sight of her. Her mother, still in her work clothes, had a steaming cup of tea cradled between her hands, the stress of the day melting away in the comfort of home.

Near the floor, tangled in a sea of plush toys, Aidan and Tamar sat in the middle of their own little world. The moment they spotted her, their tiny faces lit up like the stars had just come out.

"May-May!" Aidan chirped, his voice high with excitement. He scrambled to his feet, his little legs carrying him toward her in an eager, wobbly sprint.

Tamar followed a second later, toddling after her brother, her wide, eager eyes fixed on Maheen like she was the most exciting thing in the world.

The second they reached her, they wrapped their small arms around her legs, holding on as if they'd been waiting for her all day. Tamar buried her face against Maheen's knee with a soft giggle, while Aidan squeezed tight, his curly head bouncing as he tugged on her hand.

Maheen let out a small laugh, crouching down to gather them both into her arms. Their warmth, their weight—it was like being wrapped in pure, uncomplicated love.

"Missed me already?" she murmured, pressing a kiss to Aidan's curls before nuzzling Tamar's chubby cheek. Tamar giggled, her tiny hands patting at her sister's face, while Aidan nodded vigorously, his grip tightening like he never wanted to let go.

"You were gone forever," Aidan huffed dramatically, his pout deep and serious in a way that made her chest ache with affection.

Maheen grinned, smoothing back his unruly curls. "I was gone for, what, an hour?"

"Too long," Tamar declared, her little voice firm, though the word came out slightly garbled.

Their mother chuckled softly over the rim of her teacup, shaking her head. "Apparently, they've been asking for you since they woke up from their nap, but Martha told them you were busy." Her tone was amused, but when her gaze settled on Maheen, it shifted—sharp with quiet concern. "You look pale, minha princesa. Are you feeling alright?"

Maheen hesitated. The weight of the envelopes still pressed against her like something heavy and unseen, an invisible anchor pulling at her thoughts.

Her father caught it too, the flicker of hesitation in her expression. He straightened slightly, setting his tie aside as his brows drew together. "Come, habibti," he said, his voice steady, warm. He pulled out a chair for her, the quiet scrape of wood against the floor filling the silence. "Sit. Tell us what's on your mind."

She let out a slow breath, then moved toward the chair, sinking into it with the familiar comfort of home wrapping around her. Aidan and Tamar wasted no time climbing into her lap, their small limbs tangling with hers as they nestled against her. Aidan tucked his head under her chin, while Tamar leaned back against her chest, already making herself comfortable.

For a moment, she just sat there, letting their warmth ground her, listening to their soft, even breathing.

Then, carefully, she reached into the pocket of her hoodie and pulled out one of the letters—the one that had started it all.

She placed it on the table in front of her parents.

Stanford.

Her mother's eyes flickered with curiosity as she gently set her cup down. Her father's expression remained unreadable as he leaned in, his gaze moving over the envelope before he carefully slid his finger under the flap. The sound of tearing paper seemed almost too loud in the stillness of the room.

He unfolded the letter slowly, his dark eyes scanning the words, absorbing them.

Aidan lifted his head, peering up at her with big, inquisitive eyes. "What is it?" he whispered, as if sensing the importance of the moment.

Maheen swallowed. "A letter from a school," she murmured.

Tamar's tiny fingers toyed with the sleeve of Maheen's hoodie as she blinked up at her. "Did they say yes?"

Elias' breath left him in a soft exhale, and when he finally looked up, his expression had shifted. A slow, proud smile touched his lips, something warm and unspoken in his gaze. "They did," he confirmed.

Her mother didn't even finish reading before a radiant smile broke across her face. "Oh, minha menina, parabéns!" she said, reaching across the table to take Maheen's hands in hers, squeezing them tightly. "Stanford! That's wonderful."

Aidan gasped, his tiny hands clutching her hoodie. "You won again?!"

Maheen let out a soft laugh, the tension in her shoulders easing just a fraction. "I guess so."

Tamar clapped her hands excitedly. "May-May is the best!"

Their father chuckled, shaking his head as he handed the letter back to Maheen. "Stanford," he echoed, his voice laced with something thoughtful, something proud. "That's far."

The words settled over her like a whisper of reality creeping in. That was far.

She nodded, her fingers brushing over the edges of the letter. "Yeah. It is."

Her mother's expression softened. "And the others?"

Maheen hesitated again, then reached into her hoodie, pulling out the rest of the envelopes one by one, stacking them on the table like a deck of fate laid bare.

Her father's brows lifted slightly. "All of them?"

She nodded. "All of them."

Silence filled the room again, but this time, it wasn't heavy. It wasn't suffocating.

It was awe.

Marisela reached out, running her fingertips over the envelopes, almost as if she was afraid they might disappear. Harvard. Yale. Princeton. Columbia. The names sat between them like an undeniable truth. "Deus meu, you did it." Her mother covered her mouth with her hand, her eyes glistening. Her father let out a low, incredulous laugh, shaking his head as he ran a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair.

"Five for five," he murmured. "Masha'Allah."

Aidan, still oblivious to the weight of the moment, clapped his tiny hands together. "May-May win?"

She let out a breathy chuckle, ruffling his curls. "Something like that, baby."

Her mother reached across the table, taking Maheen's hand in hers, squeezing it gently. "I always knew you were meant for something great," she said, her voice thick with pride. "But seeing it, holding it in my hands... It feels like a dream."

Elias leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. "And how do you feel about all this, habibti?"

Maheen bit her lip, shifting Tamar slightly in her arms. "I should be happy, right?" she asked quietly, almost more to herself than to them.

Her mother's gaze snapped to hers, the warmth never leaving but now laced with understanding.

"Are you not?" she asked gently.

Maheen opened her mouth, then closed it.

Because she was happy. Wasn't she?

She had worked for this. Fought for this. Pushed herself through long nights, through exhaustion, through every doubt and fear that had whispered in the back of her mind. And she had done it.

And yet.

Yet, something still felt off.

"I... don't know," she admitted, the words tumbling out before she could filter them. "I thought I'd be happier. I thought I'd feel... something more."

Her parents exchanged a look, one of quiet understanding. Her father reached out, brushing his knuckles against her cheek in a rare moment of tenderness. "Sometimes, the things we dream about feel different once they're real," he murmured.

Her mother nodded. "And sometimes, princesa, joy is quieter than we expect."

Maheen glanced down at the letters, tracing the embossed logos with her fingertips. "It just doesn't feel right. Not without..." She trailed off, but her parents knew. They always knew.

Jason.

Her father sighed, his hand resting over hers. "I know, habibti."

Marisela reached for the tea again, her movements slow, thoughtful. "He would have been so proud of you, Maheen," she said softly. "Amir too. We all are."

The words settled over her like a warm embrace. She still didn't know what she was feeling—not fully. But for the first time since she had opened those letters, she didn't feel so alone.

Aidan wiggled in her lap, tapping her cheek with a tiny hand. "May-May happy now?"

Maheen blinked down at him, at his big, expectant eyes, and for the first time that night, a genuine smile tugged at her lips.

"Yeah, baby," she murmured, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "I think I'm getting there."

Elias' deep, steady voice rumbled softly, grounding her further. "It's a big choice, habibti. It's okay if you don't have an answer yet."

Her mother nodded, rubbing a gentle circle over Maheen's knuckles. "You don't have to figure it out tonight, meu amor."

The toddler rested his head against her shoulder, his tiny fingers curling into the fabric of her hoodie. "Can we help you pick?"

Her little sister, still in her arms, nodded eagerly. "We pick the best one!"

Maheen let out a soft, breathy laugh. "You guys don't even know what the schools are."

Aidan pulled back slightly, crossing his arms in determination. "Then tell us. We'll help."

Tamar gasped as if struck with a brilliant idea. "A game! We play a game, and the winner is where May-May goes!"

Their father chuckled. "I don't think that's quite how it works, qalbī."

The little girl pouted. "Why not?"

Maheen smiled, warmth spreading through her chest despite everything. Despite the uncertainty, despite the ache of what was missing, despite the weight of choices looming over her.

For a little while, she let herself bask in it, let herself exist in this moment of love and laughter and the people who grounded her.

But eventually, the quiet pull of something else—something deeper, heavier—became too strong to ignore.

After a few more minutes, she stood, gently untangling herself from her siblings' grip. "I'll be back in a bit," she said, offering her parents a small smile when they looked up.

Her mother reached out, brushing a strand of hair behind Maheen's ear. "Take your time, querida."

"We'll be here." her father added, nodding.

The warmth of their voices followed her as she slipped away, stepping down the hall toward the solitude of her room.

Once inside, she let the quiet settle over her, sinking onto the edge of her bed. The acceptance letters were still clutched in her hands, crisp edges slightly crinkled from how tightly she had been holding them.

She set them aside, reaching instead for her phone.

Her fingers hovered over the screen for a long moment.

Then, before she could second-guess herself, she pressed dial.

It rang only once before a familiar voice answered, steady and composed—but with that ever-present undercurrent of concern.

"Maheen?" Bruce's voice carried through the line, even in that single word.

She exhaled slowly. "Hey, Bruce."

A pause. Not hesitation—just quiet understanding.

"What's on your mind, May?"

Maheen closed her eyes for a second, pressing her palm against her forehead. The words sat heavy in her throat.

Everything.

Nothing.

Jason.

The future.

The past.

She let out a quiet breath, and when she spoke, her voice was softer. Smaller.

"I got in."

Bruce didn't have to ask where. He already knew.

There was another pause—then the sound of him shifting slightly, as if settling in.

"I'm proud of you," he said, and the quiet sincerity in those words nearly unraveled something deep in her chest.

She swallowed. "I don't know what to do."

Another moment of silence, then:

"You don't have to decide tonight."

Maheen let out a shaky breath, pressing her eyes shut.

"I know," she admitted. "I just..."

She trailed off, her thoughts tangled, too many emotions pulling her in different directions.

Bruce waited, patient as ever.

She inhaled deeply, then finally whispered, "I wish Jason was here."

The silence that followed wasn't empty. It was full. Heavy.

He didn't answer right away. Maybe because there was no answer.

But after a moment, his voice came through, quieter than before.

"I know. Me too."

And for now, that was enough.

IZIA'S NOTES

new chapter!! i had to write something like that because i refuse to believe that bruce wouldn't have kept track of all the milestones jason missed :/ and in a way he can share this sadness with maheen because they're both living in "what ifs?" 😔 oh and regarding maheen's ethnic background, because i don't think i've mentioned it before? her dad is syro-lebanese (maronite) and her mom is ivorian-brazilian, though she also has the british nationality :)

hope you enjoyed this chapter and please don't forget to vote, comment and share! it's always a pleasure to read your comments ❤️

© ADONYSIAC  ― IZIA™