[Cassy]
The day’s shadows lengthened as Cassy made her way home, the routine walk feeling different as her conversation with Yvette echoed in her mind. Each step seemed to carry the weight of the choices lying ahead, invisible but palpable. Upon arriving home, she quietly ascended the stairs to her sanctuary, her room—a space that had always been a source of comfort and clarity.
 
Once inside, she closed the door with a soft click and let herself sink into the welcoming embrace of her plush chair, a familiar nest amid the storm of her thoughts. Her eyes wandered, tracing the contours of her room, the silent witnesses of her many dilemmas and triumphs. But today, they offered no counsel, only reflecting her own uncertainty back at her.
 
She let out a forlorn sigh, her eyes catching her own reflection in the vanity mirror. "Maybe... maybe I should just lay all my cards on the table?" she proposed to her mirrored self, the idea blooming amidst the chaos. "I could tell Altair exactly how I feel, be completely honest, and... ask him to wait for me until after graduation."
 
Her image stared back, offering no reassurances, prompting her fears to surface. "But what if he misconstrues it as me leading him on? What if my feelings are a one-way street?"
 
Her gaze hardened, a flicker of determination shining through. "But then again, what if he reciprocates? If he agrees to wait, does that lay the foundation for something genuine? Something truly meaningful between us?"
 
Yet, in the back alleys of her mind, another thought lurked, casting a shadow. Her mind conjured images of the other women who were ever-present in Altair's world.
 
"And what about the others? Allaine... Theresa... What role do they play in his life? If he harbors feelings for them, won't my confession just be setting the stage for my own heartache?"
 
She could feel the tension in her hands, balled into fists upon her lap as the scenario grew bleaker. "And in the worst-case scenario, if I had to end things... could I actually inflict that pain on him? On us? How would I live with that guilt?"
 
The questions swirled like a tempest around her, the answers elusive, teasing her with the complexity of emotions and the consequences that seemed to ripple far beyond her own heart's yearnings. The silence of the room absorbed her sigh, heavy with the turmoil of a young heart navigating uncharted territories.
 
[Altair]
As the evening crept in, dimming her room in a soft twilight, Cassy acquiesced to the exhaustion tugging at her edges. She conceded, with a whisper of hope, that perhaps the obscurity of dreams might offer her the clarity that her conscious mind could not grasp. With that, she prepared for bed, allowing sleep to envelop her, praying for a beacon in the morrow’s light.
As the moon claimed the sky, casting a silvery sheen over the city, the tranquility of the night was shattered for Altair. Emerging from the fluorescent haze of a convenience store, he stepped into the street's murky shadows where danger lurked, palpable in the air.
 
Beneath a nearby streetlight, struggling against the darkness with its flickering glow, four figures materialized. They moved with purpose, their intentions cloaked in menace. The first was a mountain of a man, his shaved head reflecting the light, and a tattoo snaking menacingly from beneath his collar. Another was slighter, skittish with nervous energy, his features obscured beneath a drawn hood. The third kept his identity hidden behind a bandana, eyes revealing nothing of his thoughts, while the fourth, limping, projected danger with every uneven step.
 
In the blink of an eye, the night erupted into chaos. Fists clenched, teeth bared, the quartet launched themselves at Altair with a ferocity that left no room for diplomacy. He fought with the reflexes of a seasoned fighter, but the onslaught overwhelmed him, driving him to the ground beneath a hail of blows.
 
And then, as suddenly as they had appeared, they were gone, swallowed up by the night from which they had emerged. Left in their wake was the echo of footfalls and Altair, bruised but unbowed, rising slowly to his feet.
 
Within moments of the scuffle, the sharp wail of sirens cut through the night air. The subdivision’s security team, alerted by the vigilant store guard, arrived with urgency. They managed to snag one of the assailants in their net—a young man, the hood now pulled back to reveal a face not much older than a boy’s, flushed with the twin fires of adrenaline and fear.
 
They brought him to a nondescript enforcement office, a sterile, unforgiving space where the weight of authority lingered in the air. There, in the oppressive silence, Altair faced the young man, a table between them marking the line between aggressor and victim.
 
Altair broke the silence, his voice steady but laced with an undeniable edge. "Listen," he began, locking eyes with the assailant, seeking the truth hidden in their depths. "I can overlook tonight’s events under one condition—you tell me who’s pulling your strings."
 
The room seemed to contract around them, the tension thick as the young man wrestled with his options. Then, as if the words burned his tongue, he whispered a name, "Carlos Antalan."
 
It was a confession, heavy with the gravity of betrayal, and it hung in the air between them, irrevocable and charged with unknown consequences. Altair absorbed this revelation, the gears in his mind turning as he considered the implications of this new piece in a much larger puzzle. The game, it seemed, was far from over.