There’s a whole lot of air happening outside due to the chopper hovering over the vast lawn.

Christopher, being the first and only face we see, stands in the porch, clad in a fitting tuxedo.

His usually slick-back brown hair is now wavy and center parted to fall at the sides of his face, reaching just below his chin. And the white patch of the front middle strands add that ethereal spice to his looks, as usual.

His eyes are on me. Always on me. He lets them stray only for a moment to nod at ...