Chapter 3

The night seems fast, I woke up with the sun already up. I did my usual morning routine and after that, I'm good to go.

The messaged I got last night wasn't from the clinic's number. It was doctor Aria's. It thrilled me, but I stopped myself right away. No way in hell i'd be this damned just because she kissed me!

I told myself I only came back for the mirror. Nothing more, nothing less.

As I walked into Flawless Aesthetics again, I could already feel the air shift. The familiar scent of mint and alcohol greeted me, that same sharp stillness that always seemed to cling to her space.

The receptionist smiled politely. “Good afternoon, Miss Ena. Dr. Williams is expecting you.”

Expecting me. Of course she was.

I followed the same hallway, the sound of my heels faint against the floor. I paused at her door and took a quiet breath before knocking.

“Come in,” she said, her voice smooth as always.

She was standing by her desk when I entered, her white coat perfectly pressed, hair tied neatly, every movement controlled. She looked up and smiled slightly, that same small, unreadable curve of her lips.

“You came,” she said simply.

“You texted,” I replied, trying to sound casual.

She nodded. “You forgot your compact mirror.”

She held it up between her fingers, silver catching the light, but the way she looked at me didn’t match the simplicity of the gesture.

“Thanks,” I said, stepping closer to take it. My hand brushed hers for just a second... too brief to mean anything, too long to ignore.

“You really should be more careful,” she murmured. “You keep leaving things here.”

I frowned slightly. “That’s the only thing I left.”

Her gaze held mine for a moment, then she smiled. “Are you sure?”

I didn’t know what to say. Something in her tone made it sound like she wasn’t talking about objects anymore.

She turned away, walking toward her cabinet, her voice calm again. “Since you’re already here, I might as well check your skin. It’s been reacting well to the last treatment.”

“I didn’t schedule anything today,” I said quickly.

“You didn’t have to,” she answered, glancing at me. “I’m offering.”

The way she said it—soft, controlled, but firm, left me no room to refuse. I followed her to the treatment chair again, my heart thudding like it did the last time.

“Lie down,” she said quietly.

I did, trying not to look too affected.

She started with the same motions, gloved fingers gliding across my skin. But this time, it was slower, gentler, almost deliberate.

“Still tense,” she said, her voice softer now. “Do I always make you nervous?”

I opened my mouth, but no sound came out.

Her lips curved slightly. “I see.”

She continued her work in silence, her hands steady, her expression unreadable. Yet there were moments... small, fleeting, when her touch lingered too long or her gaze softened too much, and it made me question everything again.

Every time I tried to convince myself it was all in my head, she’d do something to prove me wrong. A faint smile, a whisper of her perfume when she leaned too close, a brush of her fingers that felt too intentional to be an accident.

When she finally stepped back, she peeled off her gloves and said in that same calm tone, “You should stop overthinking, Ena. It shows on your skin.”

I looked up at her, searching for some hint of what she meant, but she only smiled... patient, knowing, dangerous.

And before I could respond, she added softly, “See you soon,” and turned away.

I stood there frozen, holding the compact mirror in my hand, realizing too late that she hadn’t given it back earlier on purpose.

She wanted me to come back. She wanted to try me?

The silence stretched, heavy with the faint hum of the air-conditioner. I could feel her eyes on me, tracing, testing.

“You can sit for a moment if you’re not in a hurry,” she said, motioning toward the chair by her desk.

"I'm fine, I'll go ahead."

“Humor me.”

"What are you trying to play? Do you want me to stay?" I said, leaning my hands on her desk to equal her face.

She raised an eyebrow and smirked, "You don't have to if you don't like," she said sounding too confident, as if she's saying I'm staying because I wanted.

I smirked at her too, tucked some strand of  my hair behind my ear and soften my eyes.

"Aw, how can I leave when you looked like you wanted me here?" 

For a moment, I saw a flicker in her eyes.

"Is that so?" she challenged.

I nodded and laughed a bit, "I can't blame you though, you seem eager to make me come back here. You even texted me with your personal phone number." I said, intentionally pointing it out to challenged her back.

"That's because I noticed that you're ignoring me... even skipping your appointment... Why? Is there something that's bothering you?" she said.

Her words hung in the air, almost too casual.

I leaned back a little, trying to look amused. “Why would something bother me, Doctor?”

She tilted her head, studying my face. “Because you look like someone who doesn’t rest even when she should.”

“Or maybe,” I said, matching her calmness, “you just like finding things that aren’t there.”

Her eyes met mine. “Maybe. But I don’t usually look for things unless they interest me.”

I froze for a second. The smile on her lips didn’t reach her eyes, and that made it worse.

“Relax,” she added, as if sensing my hesitation. “You’re too defensive.”

“Am I?”

She laughed quietly. “No, you’re just the one overthinking it.”

Her tone was playful, but there was something behind it... something heavier. The kind that made my skin prickle.

“Is this part of the treatment?” I asked quietly.

She smiled, slow and deliberate. “Only if it works.”

I laughed, but it came out uneven. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet,” she said, eyes still on mine, “you’re still here.”

The words hit harder than they should. I wanted to say something, anything, but all I could do was look at her, the calm precision of her stance, the quiet certainty in her eyes. She wasn’t teasing anymore. She was testing.

A soft knock on the door made both of us turn. Her secretary peeked in. “Doctor, your next appointment is here.”

Dr. Aria didn’t look away from me when she answered, “Give me five minutes.”

The door closed again, leaving us in the same thick silence.

She leaned closer, her voice barely above a whisper. “Next time, don’t make me text you just to bring you back.”

I swallowed hard, forcing a small laugh to cover the sound of my heartbeat. “You could’ve just said you missed me.”

Her lips curved, almost smiling. “I don’t say things I don’t mean.”

And just like that, she turned away, her tone back to normal. “You can go now, Miss Garden. Take care of your skin.”

But her words didn’t match her eyes, they stayed on me, steady, unreadable, until I finally turned to leave.

Outside the clinic, I realized my hands were shaking. I hated that she noticed everything, even the things I tried to hide.