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The morning sun slants through the kitchen windows, catching dust motes as they drift over the marble counter. Zen's coffee mug trembles in his grip when Sam bursts in, his voice sharp enough to crack the quiet. "You going to tell me why the hell my ex is in the living room?" Sam crosses his arms, demanding answers. Zen pushes his glasses up, steadies himself. "Listen, champ. you and I are dating." Sam's voice rises, incredulous, and Zen's palm slams the counter, cutting him off. "Watch your tone. you! Can you come in here please?" He calls out, his gaze fixed on the doorway, waiting for you to step into the light.