Hours later, the setting shifted to the stylish corridors of Rustan's Mall. Theresa looked positively radiant in her carefully selected outfit. She wore a tailored white blazer over a soft lavender blouse, which she paired with high-waisted jeans and strappy heels. Her hair flowed in loose waves, and her minimal jewelry added just the right amount of elegance. 
 
Altair was already there, waiting for her. He wore a crisp black polo shirt and black shorts—a contrast to Theresa's chic appearance. Despite the casualness of his outfit, he carried it with an understated confidence that caught the eye. 
 
As they walked through the upscale stores and boutiques, Theresa glanced at Altair, a hint of curiosity clouding her eyes. "You're such an enigma, you know that?" she finally said. "You have this refined air about you, but you're not draped in designer labels. And if your phone hadn't broken, you'd still be using that ancient Samsung Note 10." 
 
"Why? Do I need to?" Altair shot back, a playful smirk crossing his face. 
 
"Isn't it almost like a requirement in your line of work to flaunt your wealth?" Theresa pressed, her voice tinged with genuine curiosity. 
 
Altair chuckled softly, clearly amused by her query. "You see, those who are genuinely wealthy often go to great lengths to keep it discreet. They set up Swiss bank accounts, shield their income through various tax havens, and generally prefer staying under the radar. Flaunting luxury items in public is often a sign of a mindset still caught up in the trappings of materialistic validation," he elaborated. 
 
"Intriguing," Theresa mused, "So why do they keep their wealth under wraps?" 
 
"To evade prying eyes and, honestly, to keep a low profile against governmental scrutiny," Altair responded succinctly. 
 
"Then why do some rich folks insist on flaunting their wealth? I mean, it seems like it's the norm," Theresa prodded. 
 
"It's an unfortunate side-effect of ego and insecurity," Altair explained. "Some people can't bear the thought of being outdone by others, and this triggers a toxic cycle of envy and material competition." 
 
"So you don't subscribe to that school of thought?" Theresa asked, narrowing her eyes slightly, intrigued by his perspective. 
 
"Not at all," Altair answered, his voice tinged with assurance. "Many people equate quality with a hefty price tag. The costlier it is, the better it must be—at least, that's what they think. I don't see it that way." 
 
Theresa's eyes glinted with curiosity. "And how do you see it?" 
 
Altair reached into his pocket and pulled out an old pen, its exterior caught somewhere between red and orange, weathered by time and use. "See this?" he said, handing the pen over to Theresa for her to examine. Its surface was scuffed and scratched but still held a certain vintage charm. 
 
He caught Theresa's puzzled expression and continued. "This is an old Parker Duofold. Sure, it's not the most expensive pen out there, but for me, it's priceless." 
 
As Theresa rolled the pen in her hand, intrigued by its worn tactile feel, Altair went on. "I used this pen to sign my first significant business contract. Since then, it's inked deals for 37 other major clients. It's signed off on my condo, my first car, even my first credit cards. I could afford a Montblanc or a Pelikan now, but none of them could possibly hold the same sentimental value as this one." 
 
Theresa's fingers gently traced the worn texture of the pen, absorbing the essence of its story. The more she understood its significance, the deeper her respect grew for Altair. 
 
"That's an interesting perspective," she mused. "We attach so much value to objects based on societal norms. But you're right; it's the personal connections we make with these items that truly define their worth." 
 
Altair smirked. "Exactly. A thing is just a thing. We're the ones who give it value through our experiences, actions, and memories." 
 
Considering his words, Theresa teased, "So, should I get myself a special pen to start this journey of meaningful item collection?" 
 
Altair raised an eyebrow, amused. "Definitely. A pen is a brilliant tool for someone as sharp-witted as you. Think of it as an extension of your mind, a reflection of your essence." 
 
Her curiosity piqued, she asked, "How so?" 
 
"Here's a lesson I learned from my mentor," Altair began. "When you hand someone a cheap, disposable pen during a pivotal business meeting, it subconsciously conveys you might not value the interaction highly. In some circles, the quickest way to slight a distinguished business associate is by offering them a run-of-the-mill writing instrument." 
 
Theresa laughed, "Well then, let's make sure I'm not unintentionally insulting anyone." Her eyes glinted with mischief. "Guide me to my perfect pen." 
 
With a broad grin, Altair nodded. "Your wish is my command." 
 
They made their way towards an upscale stationery store, with Theresa eager to find an item that would resonate as deeply with her as Altair's Parker Duofold did with him. 
 
As they stepped into the elegant shop, adorned with rows of glistening pens and ornate notebooks, Theresa felt momentarily overwhelmed by the array of choices. Sensing her hesitation, Altair quipped, "First-time pen shopping jitters?" 
 
A bit embarrassed, she admitted, "I didn't expect so many options." 
 
He motioned her closer. "Here, give me your hand." 
 
Theresa hesitated for a heartbeat, then placed her hand atop his. An unexpected warmth spread between their fingers, causing her cheeks to tint with a soft pink hue. She quickly averted her gaze, but Altair seemed unfazed, his focus now on finding the ideal pen for her. 
 
"Choosing the right pen is a bit like tailoring a suit. It needs to fit you perfectly," Altair said, effortlessly guiding her attention back to the task at hand. "Given your delicate, graceful hands, you'll want something that doesn't overshadow them. A bulky pen would just look awkward and might even seem pretentious." 
 
Captivated, Theresa hung on every word, processing his insights as a store clerk approached them, drawn by Altair's beckoning wave. 
 
"Would you mind showing us your collection of Parker pens?" 
 
With a nod, the clerk carefully removed a pair of exquisite writing instruments from the glass case. "This," Altair pointed to a sapphire lacquered pen, "is the Parker Sonnet Jubilee. It's a unique piece, a bit of an elusive gem. The duofold, meanwhile, is a classic in business circles—elegant but not ostentatious." 
 
As Theresa pondered, Altair pivoted toward the clerk. "What about Pelikan pens? Do you carry those?" 
 
"Of course, sir," the clerk confirmed, revealing a tray of assorted Pelikan K600s. "We also have a fine selection of Esterbrook pens," she added, unveiling another tray filled with resplendent Esties. 
 
Among them, an Esterbrook Seaglass immediately captivated Theresa. Its color was a hypnotic fusion of translucent sea green and subtle azure, reminiscent of tranquil ocean waves kissed by sunlight. 
 
"I think we have a winner," Altair grinned, reading her enchanted expression. 
 
Theresa was spellbound. "The color—it's simply enchanting! It feels like holding a piece of the ocean in my hand!" 
 
Altair leaned in close, his voice barely above a whisper, "An exquisite choice for an equally exquisite person." 
 
Caught off guard, Theresa felt a flush spread across her cheeks. For a moment, she lost herself in the depths of Altair's gaze, pondering just how similar it was to the captivating hues of her newfound treasure. 
 
Both Altair and the clerk chuckled at Theresa's utterly enchanted expression. 
 
"Your charm game seems pretty effective, sir," the clerk winked, tapping into the store's friendly vibe. 
 
Altair just chuckled, his eyes meeting Theresa's as if sharing a little secret. 
 
Wrapping up at the counter, Theresa securely nestled her new pen in its luxurious case. Altair also completed his purchase— a violet-white Pelikan K600 and a blue Parker Sonnet Jubilee. 
 
As they prepared to exit, Altair caught Theresa off guard by extending the blue Parker towards her. "A stellar pen deserves a worthy companion," he said, imbuing the word 'companion' with layers of unsaid meaning. 
 
Theresa looked up, her eyes sparkling as if Altair had gifted her a sliver of the night sky. "Thank you," she uttered, her voice brimming with genuine affection and slight awe. 
 
"No, thank you," Altair returned the sentiment, "for being such a remarkable person." 
 
Changing venues, they settled into a quaint café tucked into a cozy corner of the mall. It was the perfect atmosphere for Theresa to break in her new pens. As she marvelled at the effortless glide of ink on paper, the tension of the day seemed to vanish, leaving behind a sense of tranquil intimacy. 
 
Pausing, she set her pens aside and took a sip of her artisan coffee. Her eyes then shifted towards Altair, who was also lost in the calming aura of the café. Theresa began to fiddle with the rim of her coffee cup, her eyes meeting Altair's as they both sensed a change in the room's atmosphere—more reflective, more personal. 
 
"So, just a hypothetical," Theresa began, taking a delicate sip of her coffee. "What do you envision married life to be like?" 
 
Altair's eyes widened momentarily, clearly surprised by the unexpected question. "Well, that's a curveball," he said, regaining his composure. 
 
"Indulge me," Theresa insisted, her voice taking on a softer, more inviting tone. 
 
Pensive, Altair stared into the rich depths of his coffee before responding. "I see a life outside the city, somewhere quieter. Perhaps a beachfront property?" 
 
Theresa's eyes twinkled with interest. "Why a beach house?" 
 
Altair leaned in, locking eyes with Theresa. "Imagine waking up to the sound of waves crashing against the shore, escaping the relentless clamor of city life. Doesn't that sound peaceful?" 
 
Theresa considered this as she took another sip of her coffee. "It does. But I would also want to add two cats to that idyllic picture." 
 
Altair chuckled warmly, "Two cats? I've always imagined having a cat, but why specifically two?" 
 
"For companionship, of course. One cat could get lonely," Theresa said as though it were the most self-evident thing in the world. 
 
Altair smiled. "Fair point. But if we're naming them, one has to be Felicia." 
 
Theresa responded with a playful smile, "Then the other will be named either Alty or Ally." 
 
"Agreed, two cats it shall be," Altair said, his eyes alight with amusement. 
 
Theresa leaned in, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. "The beachfront sounds heavenly, but have you ever thought about the highlands? Like, say, Baguio?" 
 
Altair sat back, pondering her words. "Baguio, you say? That's a compelling thought." 
 
Theresa's eyes carried a far-off look, like she was envisioning her dream already taking shape. "Okay, so picture this," she started, her tone filled with a spark that felt both intimate and compelling. "You wake up wrapped in a blanket, greeted by that distinct Baguio chill. I'd be up first, naturally, taking care of our cats and starting coffee—filling the air with that comforting aroma we both love." 
  
She paused, looking up to gauge Altair's reaction. "Then, I'd prepare a straightforward but satisfying breakfast. I'd saunter into our bedroom, carrying not just the scent of fresh coffee but also a soft 'good morning' kiss." 
  
Listening, Altair felt himself becoming increasingly captivated. Theresa wasn't just laying out a hypothetical scenario anymore; it felt like a preview of an enchanting, and surprisingly possible, future. 
  
"I'm intrigued. Keep going," he urged, subtly leaning in. 
  
Theresa's grin broadened, her eyes imbued with a kind of luster as though she were actually experiencing the very moments she was narrating. "We'd sip our coffee, maybe read some books, and think about our plans for the day—all from our balcony with a killer view. We could chat, too—casual talk, deep talk, any talk." 
  
"So, what's next in this dream day?" Altair probed, entirely engrossed in her depiction. 
  
A faint blush tinted Theresa's cheeks as she continued. "Well, how about a leisurely afternoon walk in the park? No commitments, no hustle and bustle. Just us, the lush scenery, and all the time in the world." 
  
Altair felt a pleasant warmth flooding his senses. "And after?" 
  
"Post-dinner, a midnight walk," Theresa concluded, her eyes meeting Altair's with a compelling intensity, like she was inviting him to step inside her spun daydream. 
  
Altair felt a burgeoning warmth spread within him. Theresa wasn't just describing a whimsical day; she was outlining a future he was beginning to long for. "That sounds perfect," he affirmed softly, eyes locked onto hers. In that electric moment, the boundary between a hypothetical scenario and a plausible reality had all but vanished. 
 
"It's simple, isn't it?" Theresa said, her tone not so much questioning as it was confirming. 
  
Altair looked deep into her eyes. "Contentment really is the truest form of happiness," he responded, subtly acknowledging the significance of her revelation. 
  
An emotional vulnerability swept over Theresa. "I'd throw everything away for that life," she admitted softly, her voice tinged with earnestness. "I don't need grandeur. That simple existence would be enough." 
  
Suddenly, her internal monologue kicked in. "What just happened? How did I let my guard down so much? This is usually a chess match of wit and words, not an open book of my most heartfelt desires." 
  
Feeling suddenly exposed, she averted her gaze, fixing it on her coffee cup, as if it could provide some kind of escape from the emotional gravity of the moment. 
  
Altair broke the lingering silence, his voice confident yet gentle. "You know, whoever gets to call himself your husband will be the luckiest man alive." 
  
Theresa's inner thoughts bubbled up again. "Is he seriously this clueless?" 
  
Regaining her composure, she looked up. "Why would you say that?" 
  
Altair paused, choosing his words carefully. "Isn't it everyone's dream? To share a life with someone as loving and wonderful as you. And when I say 'everyone,' that includes me, too." 
  
A hint of irritation crept into her voice. "So why not just say you'd consider yourself lucky to be that man?" 
  
Altair chuckled, but there was a bitter edge to it. "I'd be fooling myself to think so. Our desires might overlap, but the reality of that ever happening...it's slim." 
  
Caught off guard, Theresa asked, "What makes you say that? Is it because you think I have high standards?" 
 
Altair treaded carefully, a tinge of vulnerability coloring his voice. "You know, Theresa, I don't think I meet your standards—or anyone's, for that matter. I mean, I'm not in great shape, and let's face it, I'm not winning any beauty contests." 
  
Her eyes narrowed, a flash of irritation clouding her features. "Are you implying that I'm shallow, Altair? That my standards for a partner are solely based on appearances?" 
  
"No, no," he hurried to clarify, sensing he'd touched a nerve. "What I'm trying to say is that it's natural for you to have high expectations. You're a woman of exceptional caliber, after all." 
  
Theresa's face turned a shade deeper, her voice quivering with suppressed emotion. "Don't you dare project onto me what you think is right or wrong. I know what I want in a man, and it's not for you to decide." 
  
"Calm down," Altair said, attempting to defuse the situation. "I didn't mean to—" 
  
He was interrupted by the sheen of tears that formed in Theresa's eyes, one of which made its way down her cheek. "How can you talk about yourself like that, Altair? Don't you see how special you are?" 
  
Her voice cracked, and she buried her face into Altair's chest, letting go of tears she'd been holding back for too long. 
  
In that delicate moment, Altair wrapped his arms around her, the air between them thick with vulnerability. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice heavy with remorse. "I'll stop belittling myself." 
  
"Promise?" Theresa's voice emerged, barely above a whisper. 
  
"Promise," Altair affirmed. 
  
After a few heartbeats, Theresa slowly pulled away, locking eyes with him once more. "Self-deprecating jokes aren't funny, you know," she said, her tone imbued with a sincerity that made him take the words to heart. 
 
Altair sighed, his eyes dropping to his coffee, its warmth now a memory. "You know, ever since Stella and I broke up, it's been hard to see myself as anything but insufficient. Bad habits die hard, I guess." 
  
Theresa shook her head, her gaze riveted on him, as if trying to convey a world of understanding. "I wouldn't be talking to you like this, so openly, if I didn't believe you deserved something better, Altair. I hope someday you'll see yourself the way I do." 
  
As her words spilled out, Theresa realized the gravity of what she'd just done. She hadn't just tiptoed across the line defining her feelings; she'd vaulted over it like an Olympic athlete. Her face flushed a warm shade of pink, as if to accentuate the point. 
  
"Can we go home?" She blurted, almost stammering. 
  
"Of course," Altair agreed, sensing the emotional tectonics had shifted, leaving them both on new terrain. 
  
Walking side by side, Theresa's fingers subtly found the hem of Altair's shirt, grasping it lightly. Sensing her desire for something steadier, Altair offered his arm, which she accepted without a moment's hesitation. 
  
The taxi ride home was a study in awkward silence, but the storm in Theresa's mind was anything but quiet. 
  
"How could I let that slip? I was supposed to be in control!" She chastised herself inwardly, rerunning the tape of her accidental confession. 
  
"And what now? Where does this go from here?" Her thoughts churned, each theoretical outcome seemingly more complicated than the last. An unwelcome notion intruded: "A showdown with Cassy is inevitable." She dismissed it quickly, grounding herself with the recollection that Cassy's and Altair's relationship was nothing but a façade. 
  
"If I'm so out of his league, why did he even engage in that conversation?" she pondered, her thoughts inevitably circling back to Altair. 
 
"Am I even a contender for his affection?" Theresa couldn't help but wonder as the taxi slid to a stop in front of their house. It felt as if she was standing at the precipice of a new reality, one step away from plummeting into an uncertain future. 
  
They entered the house side by side, an unspoken tension hanging thick in the air between them. Once inside the lounge, their paths diverged, each consumed by the emotional maelstrom that their conversation had unleashed. 
  
Theresa made a beeline for her room, skipping the light switch altogether. She sank into her bed, afloat on a turbulent sea of feelings. With shaky hands, she fished out her phone and dialed Elise, who answered with an immediacy that suggested she'd been waiting for this call. 
  
"I've made a grave error," Theresa blurted, her voice tremulous. 
  
"What's wrong?" Elise's voice crackled with concern. 
  
"I...I think I might actually have feelings for him. And worse, I think I've tipped my hand," Theresa confessed, her voice imbued with an aching vulnerability. 
  
"How did you let that happen?" The disbelief in Elise's voice was palpable. 
  
"I was swept up in the moment," Theresa's admission carried the weight of remorse. 
  
Elise sighed, disappointment and understanding mingling in her tone. "Theresa, I expected more control from you. But then again, it's not completely out of left field, is it?" 
  
"What are you implying?" Theresa's voice rose, tinged with both defensiveness and curiosity. 
  
"You likely felt a genuine connection, and in that split second, rational thought vacated the premises. We need to meet up and talk this through. I'll text you the details," Elise concluded before ending the call. 
  
And just like that, Theresa was left to stew in the silence of her room, every word from their conversation echoing in her head like a haunting melody. 
 
Altair's Room 
  
The soft illumination filled the room as Altair flicked on the light switch, settling onto the familiar contours of his space. His gaze inadvertently fell on a framed photo of him and Stella that still occupied a corner of his desk. 
  
"Is this a joke? A cosmic jest?" He found himself muttering, as if expecting an answer from the universe itself. 
  
A sigh escaped his lips as he reached for his phone, scrolling through the contacts until he found Elise's name. He hit dial. The phone rang nine times, and just when he was about to disconnect, Elise picked up. 
  
"Hello?" She answered, her voice tinged with mild irritation. 
  
"Is now a good time?" Altair hesitated, half-expecting her to cut the call short. 
  
"I was about to be swamped, but go ahead. Actually, I have a mission for you," Elise declared in her usual, cryptic manner. 
  
"A mission? What's going on?" Altair was immediately puzzled, his curiosity piqued. 
  
"A three-day vacation in Baguio. Separate rooms. Cassy needs a breather, and frankly, so could you," Elise rattled off the details with an air of finality before abruptly ending the call. 
  
And there it was—an unexpected curveball in a day already teeming with surprises. Altair was left standing in the soft glow of his room, mulling over Elise's words. What was truly transpiring here? The unanswered questions, like ghostly figures, swirled around him in the still air.