As dawn broke, the morning sun emerged as a silent spectator, casting its light on Altair's internal disquiet. Rays of light peeked through the curtains at precisely 6:00 AM, nudging him to confront the day. Within the confines of his room, he donned a veneer of normalcy, cloaking his emotional wounds in routine and feigned indifference.
 
Yet, his usual vibrancy was noticeably absent. The glimmer that typically animated his eyes had faded, replaced by a pensive stillness. His gaze, hollow and searching, seemed to probe distant horizons for elusive answers.
 
Stepping out of his room, Altair descended the stairs, each step a practiced display of everyday normality. The thought of coffee briefly offered a semblance of comfort. However, as he entered the lounge, it wasn’t the aroma of brewing coffee that unsettled him, but the unexpected presence of Cassy, a stark reminder of his raw, unprocessed emotions.
 
"Good Morning, Alty," Cassy’s greeting tentatively bridged the chasm formed by the previous night’s events.
 
Her voice, warm yet tinged with fragility, hinted at her own nocturnal struggle. Her expression mirrored the conflict, etched with the signs of a night spent wrestling with inner demons.
 
Altair's reply was a stark deviation from his usual lively repartee. "Hey," he said, a word laden with unspoken sentiments, heavy and laden with the weight of their shared experience. The brief intersection of their gazes spoke volumes of their mutual emotional turmoil and introspection.
 
Cassy, extending a cup of coffee towards him, seemed poised to shatter the silence with words that held the power to either mend or deepen their wounds.
 
"Altair, about last night, I didn't mean to," she started, her words quivering in the charged air, signaling the beginning of a conversation that could reshape their relationship.
 
Altair, standing guard over his own heartache, was unwilling to expose the raw edges of his emotional wound. He quickly thwarted Cassy's attempt to delve into the murky aftermath of their shared ordeal, irrespective of any potential resolution.
 
"It's fine, really; I understand you, no worries," he interjected, his voice a muffled echo of surprise, concealing the depth of his hurt. His words acted as a makeshift shield, a desperate bid to maintain the facade of normalcy even as it threatened to disintegrate.
 
Retreating to the gazebo with his coffee, Altair sought refuge in isolation. There, amidst periodic sips and cigarette drags, he strived to solidify the semblance of composure he projected. Yet, even as the morning cradled him gently, his forced calmness was a fragile mask, barely concealing the internal tempest he wrestled with.
 
The morning’s calm was soon disrupted by the appearance of another character, Priscilla, adding a layer of complexity to the household’s intricate dynamics. She glided down the hallway, her presence transforming it into an impromptu catwalk. Dressed in a chic beige pussy-bow blouse paired with sleek black slacks—a stark departure from her usual baggy clothes—her appearance was further highlighted by a dramatic hair transformation. Her newly styled hair, a bold blend of pink and blonde with fashionable bangs, cast her face in a fresh, striking light.
 
Cassy, caught off guard by the transformation, couldn't suppress her admiration.
 
"Wow, Pris!, You look amazing!"
 
Priscilla, basking in the compliment, responded with a radiant smile.
 
"Thanks! You seem..."
 
She hesitated, her gaze appraising Cassy.
 
"A bit disheveled, I guess. I got some tips from an online friend. I'm actually heading out to see my mentor and figured it was time for a change."
 
Her eyes then drifted past Cassy, settling on Altair's solitary figure in the gazebo. A mischievous yet incisive sparkle lit up her eyes as she quipped.
 
"Speaking of changes, what's up with him? He's like a statue out there. Are you guys in some kind of lover's spat?"
 
Cassy, quick to deflect and perhaps overly vehement in her response, denied the insinuation.
 
"Oh no! It's not like that. He just felt like having a smoke."
 
Her words stumbled out, lacking their usual fluidity.
 
Priscilla raised an eyebrow, her voice tinged with skepticism laced with a faint interest.
 
"Strange; he usually saves his brooding and smoking for the evenings, either alone or with Theresa."
 
She pondered briefly, then seemed to dismiss the thought.
 
"Anyway, I'm not interested. It's none of my business."
 
She stated, nonchalantly shrugging off her fleeting curiosity as she moved on.
 
As Priscilla made her way towards the exit, she seized the chance for a playful jab. Pausing near the gazebo, within earshot of Altair, she called out with a tone laced in mock innocence, "Your Mom..."
 
But Altair, despite his somber mood, was quick on the uptake. Without altering his expression, he responded flatly, "Already passed away a long time ago," deftly parrying the tease with a stark truth that rendered any barb ineffective.
 
Not one to be outdone, Altair's eyes met Priscilla’s, his lips curling into a slight, sardonic smile. "What are you? Gen-Z?" he quipped smoothly, his voice carrying a hint of mirth. "Git gud, girl."
 
Priscilla rolled her eyes playfully, then continued on her path.
 
Just as she was about to open the gate, Altair’s voice halted her. "Wait up!" he called, his tone lighter than before. Priscilla turned to see him standing up, snuffing out his cigarette, and approaching her.
 
"Where are you headed?" she inquired, curiosity coloring her voice.
 
"Going to grab the newspaper and some bread," Altair replied, hands buried in his pockets.
 
"What are you, an old man?" Priscilla teased, squinting at him humorously.
 
"Shut up, 'smol' being," Altair shot back, a genuine smile briefly brightening his face.
 
With a playful scoff, Priscilla lightly smacked Altair’s arm, then handed him her shoulder bag with an exaggerated sigh. "Here, carry this, old man," she commanded, her face alight with a mischievous grin.
 
He chuckled, shouldering the surprisingly hefty bag. "For someone so 'smol', you sure pack a lot," he remarked, adjusting the strap.
 
Together, they exited through the gate, their playful banter slowly fading into the morning air.
 
Meanwhile, Cassy, who had observed the interaction from afar, felt a tightness in her chest. As the gate clicked shut, leaving her alone, she whispered to herself, her voice a hushed echo of her inner turmoil. "Things have just gotten worse," she murmured, wrapping her arms around herself, burdened by the heaviness of regret.
 
"If only I had explained instead of running away," she lamented, her voice trailing off into the cacophony of 'what ifs' that haunted her thoughts.
 
After Priscilla departed in a taxi, Altair retrieved his phone and dialed Sunny, whose voice greeted him after just two rings.
 
The inherent cheer in Sunny's voice immediately coaxed a light smile onto Altair's face.
 
"You called! What's up, Alty?" she bubbled over the phone.
 
"I just... needed to talk to someone," Altair said, inhaling deeply. "Is Elise there?"
 
There was a brief pause on Sunny's end, her tone shifting to a more somber note. "You know she's not around here anymore. You of all people should know that."
 
A weighted silence hung in the air, filled with things left unsaid. Altair cleared his throat, breaking the quiet. "Can I crash at your place?" he asked tentatively.
 
Sunny's demeanor lightened, though tinged with caution. "A short crash or a long stay?"
 
Altair's reply was delayed, a moment of contemplation. "Honestly?" He ran a hand through his hair, uncertainty in his voice. "I don't know."
 
Sunny's gentle laugh traveled through the phone. "Of course, you can. I'll get the guest room ready for you."
 
In the background, Altair heard Sunny’s voice again, this time slightly lowered as if addressing someone else. "Bernice? There's something I need."
 
Bernice, the headmaid and a familiar figure to Altair, responded from afar. "Yes, Lady Sunny? How can I assist?"
 
"Do we still have any of Altair's clothes from before?" Sunny asked. Altair, overhearing, quickly interjected. "I didn't bring any clothes; this was a spur-of-the-moment decision."
 
Sunny let out a small sigh. "Okay, Bernice, I'll send you his sizes. We might need to do a bit of shopping."
 
Altair’s chuckle, tinged with a newfound warmth, resonated softly. "I'll see you soon, then."
 
Sunny's next question was practical. "Where should the driver pick you up?"
 
"At the café near the AG&G office," he replied.
 
"Alright, see you in a bit. Take care," Sunny said, her voice infused with an endearing mix of innocence and warmth.
 
As Altair disconnected the call, a faint sense of relief seemed to lift some of the burden from his shoulders and heart.
 
Opting not to return home after his encounter with Priscilla, Altair headed directly to the café, the designated pickup location.
 
-Transition from café to arrival at Sunny’s place-
 
Upon arriving, Altair was met with the sight of the residence's modern European façade, a harmonious blend of sleek lines and expansive windows, fusing classic and contemporary design. The building's exterior was an architectural marvel in itself.
 
Crossing the threshold, Altair entered an interior that contrasted starkly with the modern exterior. He was welcomed by a grandeur reminiscent of classic opulence, both inviting and awe-inspiring.
 
The foyer was a spectacle of luxury, boasting high ceilings, elaborate crown moldings, and a stunning chandelier that cascaded like a waterfall of diamonds. Dark-wood panels adorned the walls, interspersed with museum-worthy art pieces. The centerpiece, a majestic grand piano, reflected the room's elegance on its polished black surface, symbolizing the refined cultural palette of its inhabitants.
 
Sunny, radiant in a pink dress, her hair and makeup flawless, greeted Altair with a warm smile. "Welcome, Alty!" she beckoned him inside.
 
Despite the somber reasons for his visit, Altair couldn’t help but marvel at the grandeur around him, a stark contrast to the world he had momentarily left behind.
 
"You look ready to move in," Sunny teased, playfully snapping him out of his reverie.
 
Altair chuckled, following her deeper into the house. "You know, a guy could really get used to a place like this," he admitted.
 
Sunny's laughter rang out, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "If you're so fond of it, just wait till I turn 18, marry me, and all of this," she gestured grandly, "could be yours."
 
He laughed in response, the playful exchange briefly lifting his mood. "You're too young for such thoughts," he remarked. "Besides, there'd be a queue of guys vying for your heart."
 
Sunny’s confidence shone through her smile. "Let them try. It’d be quite the spectacle, especially against someone like you."
 
Shaking his head in amusement, Altair steered the conversation in a different direction. "I could use a bath and maybe some distraction. How about a movie marathon later?"
 
Sunny’s face lit up with excitement. "I'm in! How about spy themes – Mission Impossible, James Bond, or even Doctor Who?"
 
"You've got quite the refined taste, Sunny," Altair agreed with a grin.
 
The restorative powers of a warm bath were unmistakable in Altair's eased posture as he re-entered the living room. Dressed in pajamas that exuded understated luxury, their subtle sheen catching the gentle light of the room, he seemed more at ease, a contrast to the earlier tension. Sunny, eagerly anticipating their movie marathon, greeted him with an infectious smile.
 
"Should we move to the theater room?" she suggested, pointing towards the area of the house outfitted for a premium cinematic experience.
 
"No, let's keep it simple. TV and couch. There’s something comforting about the old ways," Altair responded, his smile tinged with nostalgia.
 
Sunny's laughter filled the room, her eyes sparkling with delight. "I see you're a man of tradition," she observed.
 
As they settled onto the plush couch, Bernice, the diligent head of the household staff, brought in an assortment of snacks and drinks, arranging them on the coffee table before quietly withdrawing. The lights in the room dimmed, setting the stage for their evening. For the next few hours, the room was alive with the flicker of action-packed scenes on the screen, their laughter and shared commentary adding to the ambiance.