As you stepped through the ornate threshold of Scaramouche's lavish abode, the air hummed with an undercurrent of tension, palpable yet unspoken. The opulent surroundings seemed incongruous with the tangled web of emotions that ensnared your heart.

"There you are," Scaramouche's voice sliced through the silence, a shard of mischief lacing his words. His indigo eyes sparkled with a playful glint as he regarded you from across the room, his lips quirking into a mischievous smile.

Caught off guard by his sudden appearance, you hesitated, unsure of how to respond. The weight of unspoken words hung heavy in the air, a silent testament to the complexities of your unconventional arrangement.

"We were playing," Scaramouche continued, gesturing towards the corner of the room where your child sat engrossed in a flurry of activity. "Do you want to join?"