Chapter 1

The next morning came too early. The city was already awake before I was, and the noise outside my window felt heavier than usual. I dragged myself out of bed, eyes half open, and went straight to the kitchen for coffee.

One sip. Bitter. Just how I needed it.

The fitting was scheduled at eleven, but Martha’s message from last night still echoed in my head. “Add more sessions before Saturday.” Like it was that easy. Like I could just walk back into that clinic and pretend nothing happened.

I looked at my reflection on the kitchen window, my hair tied loosely, dark circles visible under my eyes. She was right. I did look tired. Maybe that was reason enough.

Before I could change my mind, I grabbed my phone and searched her clinic’s number.

“Flawless Aesthetics, good morning,” the receptionist greeted.

“Hi, this is Ena Garden. I’d like to schedule a session with Dr. Williams today, if she’s available.”

There was a pause on the other line, followed by a polite tone. “Let me check, ma’am. Please hold for a moment.”

I held my breath. I didn’t even know what I wanted to hear. That she was fully booked? Or that she was waiting for me?

When the receptionist came back, her voice was lighter. “Dr. Williams has an opening at three this afternoon. Would you like to confirm it?”

“Yes,” I said before I could think twice.

After the call, I set my phone down and stared at it for a long time. What was I doing? I told myself it was just for maintenance. Skin care. Professional. Normal. But deep down, I knew I was going because I wanted to see her.

The thought annoyed me.

I finished my coffee, grabbed my keys, and forced myself to get ready for the fitting first. Modeling required you to look perfect even when you felt like breaking inside. You smile, you pose, you survive.

By the time I reached the studio, the usual chaos greeted me. Lights, stylists, racks of clothes, and the smell of hairspray thick in the air. Martha waved from across the room, her phone glued to her ear.

“You’re early for once,” she said with a teasing grin when she hung up.

“Traffic was on my side today,” I replied, keeping my tone casual.

She eyed me for a moment, as if studying something she couldn’t quite name. “You look… different.”

“Do I?”

“Yeah. Not sure if it’s good or bad yet,” she said, half-laughing.

I smiled faintly and walked toward the makeup chair. “Let’s hope it photographs well.”

But as the artist started working on my face, I caught my reflection again. Beneath the foundation and lipstick, my thoughts drifted back to her.

Three o’clock.

I shouldn’t be counting the hours. Yet somehow, I was. But shit, why? I think I'm out of my mind already?

"Miss Ena, why do you look so pissed?" my make up artist, asked.

I pushed myself to smile and laughed a bit, "Just remember something." I said trying to play it off.

"Oh, is that a boyfriend?" she teased.

"I wished!" I answered right away.

She laughed and continued doing my make up. I thought she's done asking questions but she's not.

"If not a boyfriend, then what? You looked pissed but you're blushing so I thought you already got a boyfriend. What's that, a fling?" she asked, really intrigued.

I laughed again, forcing it this time. “You’re watching too many dramas,” I said, hoping she’d drop it.

But she didn’t. “Come on, Miss Ena, just tell me. Who made you blush like that?”

I looked at her through the mirror, my lips slightly curved. “If I tell you, you wouldn’t believe it.”

“Try me.”

I shook my head, amused at how persistent she was. “It’s not what you think. It’s nothing, really.”

She smiled knowingly, her brush gliding across my cheek. “That’s what they all say before it becomes something.”

Her words lingered longer than they should.

When she finished, I thanked her and stood up, fixing my hair in front of the mirror. My face looked flawless again, but my thoughts were anything but.

We proceed to shooting some photos for the upcoming event. After that, I tried on multiple dresses and gowns for it as well. 

Martha called out from across the room. “You’re free to go, Ena. Rest before Saturday, okay?”

“Got it,” I replied, picking up my bag.

Outside, the afternoon heat slapped against my skin. I slipped my sunglasses on and walked toward my car, trying to ignore the way my heart picked up speed the closer it got to three o’clock.

It was just an appointment, I told myself. Just another treatment. I sighed and made up my mind. I shouldn't be this bothered. Knowing how she acted after she kissed me last time, I should chill like her. She's the one who initiated it so why would I be scared?

Right. I did nothing wrong. If there's someone unprofessional between us, that's her.

I decided to stop by a coffee shop to get myself some drink before going to the clinic. I was greeted by the secretary when I entered the clinic.

"Good afternoon, Miss Ena. Doctora is already waiting for you," she said.

"Thanks," I said simply.

The faint scent of antiseptic and lavender filled the air as I stepped inside. Everything was white, clean, and calm... too calm, like the silence before a storm.

I signed the logbook and followed the familiar hallway. My heels clicked softly against the marble floor, each step heavier than the last.

I don’t know what I expected to feel. Guilt? Nerves? Maybe a little of both. But the truth was simpler. I just wanted to see her again... to see how she'll act after that.

When I reached her office door, I stopped. My hand hovered above the knob as my heart started to beat faster, like my body already knew something my mind refused to admit.

Then I heard her voice from inside; calm, low, and unmistakable.

“Come in.”

I froze for a second before pushing the door open.

She was there, standing by her desk, flipping through a file. Her white coat made her look colder than I remembered, but her eyes... they still had that same quiet intensity that made it hard to look away.

“Miss Garden,” she greeted, her tone neutral, professional. “It’s been a while.”

I forced a polite smile. “Yeah. Been busy.”

She closed the folder and met my eyes. “Let’s get started then.”

Her voice was steady, but something in her stare felt like a challenge.

And as I followed her toward the treatment chair, I couldn’t help but wonder— was I the only one really bothered by that kiss?