Ava woke to the soft melody of music drifting up from downstairs. The warmth of the morning sun filtered through the window, shading the room with a golden glow. She was alone in the bed. Her eyes looked around the neatly decorated bedroom, seeing some details for the first time in daylight. At one corner of the room, a half-body almost life-size ceramic sculpture of a woman stood, her hand delicately holding a blue marble bird. The were huge white doors on the opposite side of the bed, probably opening to a dressing room. The bathroom door was left open with no lights on inside. Ava moved her hand on the silky bedsheets, her mind pulling her back to last night. Her quite smile faded as she saw the neatly folded white towels discarded at the foot of the bed, along with a white summer dress draped carefully over the corner.

  She grabbed the towels, took a quick shower, and slipped into the dress closing the buttons slightly tight around her chest. She felt a slight comfort when she noticed the tag still attached. She wasn’t about to wear someone else’s discarded dress, probably left behind after another night of romance. It made her feel better to know it was hers, even if just for the morning. The thought lingered for a moment, she would be that woman, the one who came and went, leaving only a faint memory behind. Alessandro would be a dream, fading as quickly as it had come. That was the deal, after all. She took a deep breath and headed downstairs.

  As Ava walked down the stairs, it hit her that she had no idea what to do on a morning after. Should she not stay for a breakfast and just leave? Or just say good morning and wait to see how he reacted? Should she ask for a ride to her hotel or offer to take him with her to Paso Robles? It struck her suddenly that she didn’t even know his last name or have his phone number. Well, obviously, she thought, it’s a little too soon to ask for his hand in marriage.

  She could hear the clatter of plates and the groaning sound of the coffee machine. Ava forced a smile and walked down the corridor toward the kitchen, feeling pleased with her timing for fresh coffee and warm bread. She undid another button on her dress before stepping into the kitchen.

  The large kitchen, with its expansive white granite countertop island in the center, would have been bathed in direct abundance of sunlight if the beige sunshades hadn’t been drawn halfway down. Ava’s eyes were momentarily dazzled by the brightness, but she quickly adjusted and saw a woman in a gray-and-white maid's uniform. Her short, curly gray hair perfectly matched the tone of her outfit. The woman smiled warmly and said:

  “Buon Giorno Signorina.”

  Ava’s smile faltered in disappointment. She had expected a certain someone much taller. Her stomach, already growling with hunger, sapped what little energy she had left. She found herself at a crossroads. She could overreact and create a scene by slamming the door, then leave in dramatic haste. Or, she could act reasonable and recalibrate her expectations, the ones she had secretly and unreasonably nurtured since yesterday, and enjoy a nice breakfast before heading out, even if the tall someone wouldn’t be joining her.

  If she could act reasonable, after breakfast, Ava could consider leaving her phone number on a sticky note, like some lovesick teenager. Or, she could act even more maturely and simply leave a thank-you note. A note for the night he almost made her believe she was the one he’d been waiting for his entire life.

  The mouthwatering scent of the focaccia was almost about to bring Ava to a hunger breakdown when she felt his hands on both sides of her waist. “Good morning, gorgeous!” he said, his voice warm as he kissed her gently on the cheek.

  “You must be starving. My apologies, I was supposed to run an errand this morning and didn’t want to wake you up. Did you sleep well?”

  Alessandro relished every moment of her emotional journey, from the initial wave of disappointment to the flicker of hope. He touched her just as she was sinking into that quiet disappointment, and in response, he watched her emotional hues shift from a deep lilac purple to soft turquoise tones. For an Ars Pherian, it was a rare and delightful spectacle. Every second of his touch on Ava was a moment he savored, knowing he was the one pulling the strings of her emotions. Except for that one string of emotional taste Alessandro could swear he could taste distinctly but could not see in Ava’s emotional colors. He lingered his hands a little more around her waist focusing on tasting more of her colors.

  “I slept very well, thank you,” Ava said, masking her hesitation with a small smile. “You’re right on time, I just made my way to the kitchen.”

  “That’s a relief,” Alessandro replied, his tone warm. “I was worried sick you might slip away before I had a chance to see you. Let’s enjoy a proper breakfast, then.”

  Alessandro gently guided Ava to the breakfast nook, pulling out the chair for her to sit. He waved at the maid to begin serving. Ava, too hungry to think, simply went along with the flow, a glass of orange mimosa and a slice of tomato focaccia. As she took the first bite, the dizziness that had clung to her eased, and her pale cheeks flushed with a warm pink.

  As her brain began to clear, a new thought emerged, cutting through the haze: What now? Do we just say goodbye?

  She knew she should leave. Before she allowed herself to get disappointed by something he might say or do. But it was so difficult. The way his white shirt fit him perfectly, tucked neatly at the waist, and the way his hair was pulled up into a bun, revealing the smooth curve of his neck, it made it hard for her to think clearly. His eye makeup and black nail polish from the night before were gone, and in their place was the clean, effortless look of someone on the deck of a white sailing yacht. The crisp citrusy notes of his morning cologne filled the air, a fresh contrast to the woody warmth of the night before.

  “Another espresso?” Alessandro asked gently.

  Ava shook her head, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips. “Thank you, everything is delicious. I hate to say it but… my flight is in five hours.”

  Alessandro raised an eyebrow, his expression shifting to a bittersweet smile. He nodded in a quiet acceptance.

  “I understand. At least let me drive you to your hotel,” he offered, his tone as wistful as his eyes.

  Ava closed her eyes for a moment, her thoughts scattered before she opened them again, her decision quick but hard. “Thank you,” she said, “but I’d rather go myself.”

  Alessandro reached for his phone, his movements deliberate and quiet as he called for a cab. Ava’s black skirt and top from last night were neatly packed in a paper bag near the door, a silent testament to how often this routine played out. The maid, as always, knew exactly how things worked in this house. How many times had she witnessed this same "next morning" scene? How many women had left with the same crisp, white dress? Even the cat had taken refuge from the quiet tension, curling itself in a corner, as if wisely avoiding the morning’s drama.

  Alessandro watched, as the emotional fumes around Ava shifted, deepening into navy and indigo blues. Blue was always his favorite color. It held an expansive spectrum of emotion, everything from the light, joyous turquoise to the deeper, more somber indigos. An Ars Pherian, who understood the language of colors better than anyone, he could see Ava’s mood was a blend of sadness and quiet contemplation, the kind of melancholy that lingered in the spaces between farewell and regret.

  Stolen story; please report.

  He walked with her to the cab waiting at the iron gate of the courtyard, his hand brushing the small of her back. When they reached the car, Alessandro wrapped his arms around her tightly, holding her for a long and tight embrace. He kissed her neck gently, feeling the warmth of her skin beneath his lips. For a brief moment, he allowed himself to savor the connection, knowing it was slipping away. This, he knew, was how it was meant to end. Despite the faint flow of melancholy brewing in his contentment, he convinced himself that he had mastered the smooth resolution of the morning after, just as he had intended.

  “I had the greatest time with you,” he whispered in her ear.

  Ava could have stayed in that hug forever, but she forced herself into the backseat of the white taxi. She turned her head to give him one last look, he was standing there, slightly hunched in his white shirt, his hands on his hips, biting his lip. His golden medallion caught the sunlight and held Ava’s gaze. She closed her eyes, capturing the moment like a black-and-white photo in her memory.

  Thankfully, it wasn’t a long drive to her hotel. Ava lay down on her bed, trying to clear her mind. How could such an intense night of romance end with just a brief hug? Should she have stayed a little longer? Should she have let him drive her to the hotel? He didn’t even ask for her number.

  She felt like a cat, carefully inspecting the door for the faintest crack through which she might slip back in. But deep down, she knew, the door was closed, and it would stay that way.

  Her acceptance brought with it a strange thought, that something wasn’t quite right with Alessandro. The bitterness that crept into the back of her throat made her uneasy. Although she couldn’t pinpoint why, he seemed too perfect to be real. Maybe he was married. Perhaps he was in an unhappy marriage, cheating on his wife. He hadn’t said much to Ava because he wasn’t divorced yet. “Snap out of it!” Ava told herself. “There’s nothing you can do now.”

  She finished packing and texted Logan:

  “On my way to home sweet home. Missed you!”

  Alessandro skipped the elevator and climbed the stairs to his third-floor apartment, humming a cheerful tune. He'd add Ava to his list of hot and fumy girls if she lived in Rome. She’d be number one. Luna was great, too, but lately, she'd become consumed by jealousy. He wished he’d gotten Ava’s number, maybe he’d visit California one day. Where had she said she was from? Paso something… Anyway, he was glad he had some time now. He had a lot to do.

  He sent a warm message to Carla, wishing her a pleasant journey to Cappadocia, and assured her he’d be present at the gathering to say farewell to all who would return to Ars Pheria. Then, he asked the maid to prepare his luggage for a four-day trip and headed to his study to write an important letter.

  “Your Imperial Majesty Sephianos,

  With respect and reverence, I humbly address Your Majesty,

  Rome, Second half of spring, Earth year MMXXV

  I am honored to report that I am currently engaged in projects with esteemed architects of Rome. Under their guidance and expertise, I continue to expand my knowledge and skills in the realm of architecture. I eagerly await the opportunity to further discuss my contributions in architecture and art during our next audience.

  As the gathering in June approaches, I shall complete all ongoing engagements here on Earth to ensure a smooth transition for both Carla and myself. My beloved Carla will see to the final arrangements for our marriage ceremony prior to my return. I have full confidence in her ability to handle these matters with the utmost precision and grace.

  Please rest assured that everything is proceeding as planned, and I remain entirely in control of all affairs here on Earth.

  With the highest regard and loyalty,

  Prince Alessandro Sephianos”

  Alessandro closed the letter carefully and slid it into the golden, streamlined envelope. He pressed his medallion firmly against the corner of the flap, sealing the envelope with the imperial seal of Ars Pheria, a rose surrounded by crown-shaped laurel leaves. The golden material shimmered under his touch, marking the letter as both official and personal.

  With the letter securely sealed, he tucked it into the inside pocket of his jacket and stood up. He locked the door to his study with a soft click, then turned to leave. Outside, the grey-haired maid was waiting for him, a small item in her hand.

  “Mi scusi, Signor,” the maid said softly, presenting a pair of golden earrings she had found in the bathroom. They were delicate, shaped like bird feathers, and gleamed in the light. Alessandro mused inwardly, she must have forgotten them on purpose to ensure a reason to call later, just another one of those Earthian women’s tricks.

  He motioned for the maid to place the earrings in the small wooden box by the door, where items like this, forgotten clothing, jewelry, trinkets, were kept until the inevitable request came for them to be returned. But just as the maid was about to close her hand, something caught Alessandro's eye. A strike of fume rose from the earrings, a shimmering white and blue mist. His pulse quickened as he took the earrings from the maid’s hand, and he held them carefully in his own.

  He felt the fumes swirl in his hand, soaked though his skin, his heartbeat quickening as memories flooded back. He remembered the first time he’d seen Ava, how she had swept her hair behind her ear, revealing her neck and the gleam of her earrings. The image of her in his arms flashed sharp and vivid, pulling him back into that moment.

  I, the loyal Ghull of the Asaha, must confess...

  I take great pleasure in planting ideas in the minds of the creatures of mud. I savor the moments when those seeds take root, growing into the tiniest bursts of coincidence. But what truly delights me is when a mere coincidence blossoms into something far greater.

  Do you think a noble Ars Pherian, with his solid rational mind, would ever listen to his heart? I don’t. It’s simply not in his nature. Harvested emotions cannot override his wall of reason. Unless... all the circumstances fall into place, at the right moment, in the right way.

  And I confess… The Asaha has many ways.

  Alessandro placed the earrings in his pocket and opened his rarely used laptop. The earrings were not antiques, yet despite the short time Ava had worn them, they reflected her emotions. Ars Pherians, the high-end antique smugglers of planet Earth, had never come across a non-antique object capable of fuming emotions before. He recalled the exquisite taste of her feelings, savoring the memory as he inhaled deeply. Then, with steady hands, he began typing.

  Search: "Paso somewhere in California, famous for wineries."

  “Discover California wines: Your Guide to Paso Robles Wine Country.”

  Next search: "Where is Paso Robles?"

  “Paso Robles is roughly halfway between Los Angeles and San Francisco.”

  Next search: "Rome to Paso Robles flights."

  Next search: "Flights today from Rome (FCO) to San Francisco International (SFO)."

  Flight Details:

  Airline: States Airlines SA 506

  Departure: FCO (Rome) at 18:00 CET (GMT+1)

  Arrival: SFO (San Francisco) at 22:00 PDT (GMT-7)

  Alessandro checked the time; it was 13:15. He knew Ava had lied about her flight; it was not in five hours. She still had plenty of time before her flight, yet she had chosen to leave early. "She didn’t want to sour things," Alessandro thought. "She acted despite her feelings. Interesting... just like an Ars Pherian would choose to do."

  Alessandro had no idea which hotel Ava was staying at. He could ask around to find out, or he could go straight to the airport and try to find her at the check-in line for her flight. And then what? He sank into the antique armchair by the window, its deep brown velvet cushions cool to his touch. He took a moment to think, his fingers brushing the soft fabric as he asked himself the first logical question.

  “Why do I want to find her?”

  Tapping his index finger on the armrest, Alessandro spoke to himself.

  “Because I want to …" He paused, shaking his head. "… is not a rational answer."

  “Never seen an emotional fume in white color. More importantly, never seen anyone strong enough to embed emotions on new objects. If human emotions were strong enough to be embedded in anything, Ars Pherians wouldn’t have to smuggle antique jewelry and objects. It makes sense to understand and optimize such a source.”

  “Valid answer. Let’s find her. And then what?”

  “She can come with me to Cappadocia.”

  “Makes sense. She’ll be distracted while I try to figure out how fast she can embed emotions in objects and the source of white fumes.”

  “Carla will hate this.”

  “She doesn’t have to know…She better not know.”

  He took the golden earrings from his pocket for a second look. Faint blue and white fumes still drifted from the earrings, disappearing into his palm and melting into his skin, as if Ava herself were still touching him. Alessandro closed his eyes.