Chapter 1: Overslept
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The morning awakens slowly, adorned with a beauty that only the earliest hours can hold. The sky blooms in colors of pale orange and gentle pink, as if the horizon itself is stretching after a long night. Birds chirp tirelessly, their voices weaving with the soft rustle of leaves in the mild breeze.
Sunlight filters through the window curtains, scattering golden patterns across the walls and floor, making the room seem alive with warmth and freshness.
Amidst this calm beauty, inside the quiet bedroom, an adult man in his early twenties lies deeply asleep.
His dark hair is slightly tousled, strands falling carelessly over his forehead. His skin appears fair, touched faintly by the glow of sunlight sneaking past the curtain.
There is a gentleness in the way his eyelashes rest upon his face, giving him a calm, almost peaceful aura.
His features are neither sharp nor plain but carry a striking balance that would place him somewhere around a 7.5 to 8 on the scale of appearance— pleasant, confident if awake, but softened now by slumber.
***
The stillness of the room is interrupted by a familiar voice echoing down the hallway— the affectionate but urgent call of his mother.
Her tone carries both warmth and impatience as she reminds him it is already late. He has overslept, weighed down by the late hours he poured into work last night.
The sound of her call stirs the morning air in the house more than the birdsong outside, filling the moment with the undeniable presence of family bonds: love, care, and responsibility all entwined.
"SEBASTIAN! ARE YOU SERIOUSLY STILL SLEEPING? YOU'LL MISS YOUR GRADUATION CEREMONY!" the woman's voice echoed sharply from the hallway.
"Uuuuurgh...", with a dramatic groan, Sebastian flung one leg out of bed and stretched. "MOM, IT'S BARELY SEVEN. GIVE ME TEN MORE MINUTES, PLEASE," he shouts while rubbing his eyes.
"SEVEN? ARE YOU SERIOUS? IT'S 8:47 ALREADY, AND WHAT'S WITH THIS 'TEN MORE MINUTES'? YOU'VE ALREADY HIT SNOOZE THREE TIMES. DO YOU EVEN REMEMBER THAT TODAY IS YOUR GRADUATION CEREMONY? IT'S LITERALLY YOUR LAST DAY AS A STUDENT! DON'T WASTE IT!" his mother scolded him.
Her words cut through the haze of his slumber. He stirred, frowned faintly, and turned over with a muffled groan. "Why does today have to start so early...?"
The sunlight now spilled heavily across his bed, urging him to face the reality of a day already waiting outside his door.
"Mmmmmmm..."
Finally, with a reluctant stretch, Sebastian's long frame slowly rose upright, reluctant to leave the warmth behind. He rolled out of bed, his feet meeting the cold floor with a soft, reluctant thud that seemed to echo the hesitant start of the day.
His mother's voice still floated in the air— soft, yet insistent— a tender reminder of discipline, boundless love, and the inescapable demands that mornings bring.
As he shuffled toward the bathroom, each measured step carried the weight of both anticipation and pressure, the silent pulse of excitement thrumming beneath it all— today was a day that would ask much of him, and yet something about it whispered of possibilities yet to come.
***
Sebastian's room was a quiet reflection of the man himself— serious, determined, and singularly focused on the goals he wanted to achieve.
The walls, painted in muted tones, bore a few carefully pinned motivational quotes and strategic diagrams, quietly urging him onward even in the smallest moments.
Nestled among these were framed family photographs that softened the room's intensity with a touch of warmth and history.
Near his study desk hung a cherished photo of Sebastian with his mother and father, their smiles conveying a bond of love and support that underpinned his every endeavor.
The photograph was slightly worn at the edges, a subtle reminder of years gone by and the steady foundation of family behind him.
Scattered around the room were several childhood photos— capturing candid moments of innocence and joy— pinned haphazardly to the corkboard above his desk and tucked into the corners of his bookshelves.
Notably, there were two particular photos that caught the eye: one showed Sebastian with a beautiful girl in their school uniforms, her expression slightly cool yet undeniably innocent, a quiet presence beside him.
The second photo was of the same pair, a few years older now in their early twenties, dressed casually, sharing a more relaxed and intimate moment.
These images hinted at a significant relationship in his life, one that perhaps added layers of complexity and quiet affection to his otherwise focused world.
A sturdy wooden desk stood near the window, cluttered with notebooks, sheets of paper, and an open laptop displaying half-finished plans and study notes.
Despite the air of discipline, the room bore signs of a mind consumed by purpose rather than perfection.
Papers lay scattered across the floor and bed— some filled with scribbled formulas, others with sketches or bullet points.
It wasn't chaotic in a careless way, but rather the kind of mess that spoke of someone racing against time, prioritizing ideas over order.
Bookshelves hugged one corner, crammed with reference books, test guides, and a few worn novels— a silent testament to the knowledge fueling his ambitions.
A neatly folded jacket lay draped over a chair, hinting he had once planned to prepare meticulously but now had little time for such niceties.
The bed, unmade and marked with the indents of restless nights, seemed almost a battleground for brief yet intense rest.
His phone sat face - down on the bedside table, alongside a half-empty water bottle and a wristwatch, ready to mark every passing moment as he chased the future he dreamed of.
Every inch of the room, messy as it seemed, breathed the spirit of a young man who was serious about his path— focused, relentless, and quietly hopeful.
***
"Knock! Knock! Knock!", a sharp knock echoed through the house, breaking the morning's quiet rhythm.
"Just a moment, I'm coming ", Sebastian's mother moved toward the main door and opened it to reveal the same girl from the photographs— the one in the school uniform and casual clothes— now dressed impeccably in formal attire.
Aisha Valemont
She stood there with an effortless grace. Her outfit was a sleek, tailored dark black blazer over a crisp white blouse, paired with a matching skirt that fell just above the knee, highlighting her slender yet athletic figure.
The subtle shimmer of her black pumps on the doorstep caught the light, complementing her poised stance.
Her dark hair was styled neatly, framing a face that was both strikingly beautiful and slightly reserved, with clear, sharp eyes that held a hint of cool confidence.
Her facial features were finely sculpted— a delicate nose, high cheekbones, and full lips that curved in a faint, knowing smile.
There was an undeniable aura about her, a balance of elegance and innocence that would place her a solid 9 out of 10 on any scale of appearance.
Sebastian's mother smiled warmly, stepping aside to welcome her inside. "Aisha dear, come in. It's so good to see you again."
"Thank you, Aunty. It's lovely to be here again." Aisha returned the smile with a gentle nod and a soft voice as she looked at Sebastian's mother—
A woman in her early to mid-fifties, carrying the quiet strength that comes from years of nurturing and managing the household.
Her hair, streaked with strands of silver, was neatly tied back in a loose bun, revealing a face marked by soft wrinkles around her warm eyes and gentle smile.
Her skin was fair but weathered slightly by time and care, each line telling a story of love, sacrifice, and resilience.
As she moved inside the house with Aisha with a calm grace, it was the kind of presence that quietly anchored the home, offering both comfort and subtle authority without needing to raise her voice.
As Aisha and Sebastian's mother, Mrs. Vail, made their way toward the dining area, they saw Sebastian's father was seated there.
An imposing man in his late fifties sat comfortably at the dining table, absorbed in the morning newspaper with quiet intensity.
His hair was streaked with silver, and his face bore the marks of a lifetime of experience— lines etched by wisdom and years of hard work.
What immediately caught one's attention was his prosthetic leg, ending just below the knee, resting firmly on the floor beside him.
The polished surface of the artificial limb contrasted with the worn texture of his clothing, a silent testament to resilience and adaptation.
Despite the physical challenge, he carried himself with dignity, the steady strength in his gaze and the firmness of his jawline speaking volumes about his character.
"Good morning, Uncle Vail," Aisha greeted him with a polite smile and a respectful nod before taking a seat on one of the dining chairs, smoothing her skirt with deliberate care.
"Good morning, Aisha," Sebastian's Father, Mr. Vail, greeted her with a slight nod.
***
From down the hallway came the sharp, affectionate call of Sebastian's mother:
"AISHA'S HERE! SEBASTIAN, COME DOWN QUICKLY!"
"Can you believe it, Aisha? Sebastian overslept on such an important day," Mrs. Vail complained looking at her, half amused, half exasperated.
Aisha chuckled softly, a slight smile playing on her lips, "Typical Sebastian." she replied gently. "Last time, on our high school graduation day, he overslept too,"her gaze flickered upstairs, as if she could see straight through the ceiling into Sebastian's room.
Mrs. Vail shook her head, but there was a twinkle of amusement in her eyes. "Honestly, if there was a prize for the biggest sleepyhead, he'd win every year."
Sighs...
"A-Aunty," Aisha hesitated for a moment, her fingers fidgeting with each others than she began, her voice soft, "is it alright if l..l..l go check on Seb?" She averted her eyes, feeling a heat rise to her cheeks.
Mrs. Vail brightened, instantly catching on. "Oh, of course, you can go, Aisha dear!" she smiled knowingly. "Just make sure he gets dressed quickly, okay?"
A gentle laugh bubbled up from Aisha as she dipped her head. "Okay, Aunty. I'll make sure he's ready in record time."
With a light step, Aisha made her way toward the staircase, her movement smooth and almost habitual— like she belonged in this house, as if these morning moments were hers just as much as they were the Vails'.
At the foot of the stairs, she paused briefly, the sun at her back casting a halo through her dark hair.
'It really is like old times,' she thought, a smile tugging at her lips as she started up the stairs toward Sebastian's room—
"..c..l..i..c..k.."
And just as she opened the door, she was shocked by what she saw standing right in front of her.
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Thank You To All For Your Support.