Chapter 5

By the time the shoot ended, my phone was already buzzing in my bag. The screen lit up with notifications — tags, reposts, headlines. Our photos were already trending. #EnaAndMarven chemistry off the charts.

I shrugged it off and continued to work for the day. Everyone's busy including me. Marven and I worked together for most part of the shoot. It was for a campaign this coming summer. And although this is the first we worked together, I can say... he's easy to work with.

In the late afternoon, everything slowed down. Marven followed me around, for someone I barely know, he already shared so many stories to me already. We were drinking our coffee, waiting for everyone to finish their part before we could hold a meeting, when I noticed a notification from an unknown number.

I haven't saved it yet but the numbers are familiar. It was her, my dermatologist. 

Unknown Number:

That pose suited you. But I wonder if you’d still look that relaxed if it wasn’t a camera watching.

I stared at the text for a long second, pulse skipping. Another buzz followed.

Unknown Number:

He touches you too easily.

I swallowed, half-amused, half-something else.

Before I could type a reply, another message came in.

Unknown Number:

Congratulations on the shoot, Miss Garden. I’ll see how your skin reacts to… exposure.

The dot at the end felt deliberate. Precise.

I set the phone down, trying not to smile. Around me, assistants were clearing props, stylists packing up, Marven waving a casual goodbye to them. But all I could think about was how quickly she’d seen it, and how fast she’d reacted.

I tucked my phone into my bag and forced my focus back to the conversation. Marven was talking about New York— something about the difference in lighting setups, the long hours, the jet lag... but his voice faded into background noise. 

My head was still stuck on her words. 

That tone. That confidence. That quiet authority that felt more like a warning than concern. 

“Hey,” Marven said, snapping his fingers lightly in front of me. “You good? You’ve been spacing out.” 

I blinked. “Yeah, sorry. Just tired.” 

He smiled, leaning back on his chair. “Guess that’s normal for us. You were great today, though. We should hang out sometime, off-camera.” 

“Maybe,” I said, forcing a polite smile. 

He laughed softly. “That means no.”

I laughed too, but it didn’t reach my eyes. Because somewhere between pretending to enjoy the small talk, my phone buzzed again.

Unknown Number:

Ignoring me already? That’s new.

I swallowed, pretending to scroll through something else as Marven kept talking. I could feel the edge of a smile forming on my lips; small, involuntary, dangerous.

“Sorry,” I said, standing. “I need to take this call.”

He nodded, oblivious. “See you at the event later?”

“Yeah,” I replied, already walking toward the exit. 

Outside, the air was cooler, the sun dipping low behind the city skyline. I stopped by a quiet corner near the parking lot and opened the message again, my thumb hovering above the keyboard.

Me:

Should I remind you that you’re still my dermatologist, Doctor?

Her reply came fast.

Unknown Number:

Should I remind you that you’re still my patient?

I bit my lower lip, staring at her words. My chest tightened in a way I didn’t want to name.

Me:

Then maybe you shouldn’t mix those things up.

It took a minute before she replied again.

Unknown Number:

And yet you’re the one replying.

I closed my eyes for a second, trying not to smile, but failed miserably. Fuck!

Me:

You texted first.

Unknown Number:

Maybe I don’t like seeing what’s mine getting touched that way.

The breath caught in my throat. I don't know what to say. What’s mine.... The words pulsed on the screen, quiet and sharp.

Before I could reply, she sent one more.

Unknown Number:

Enjoy your event tonight, Miss Garden. I’ll be watching.

A chill ran down my spine. I stared at the message, the last dot blinking at the end of her sentence, deliberate and precise, just like her.

I bit my lower lip, trying to stop myself from smiling. Somewhere deep inside, part of me wanted to be unsettled. Another part, the one I didn’t want to admit existed— getting excited for whatever she meant by that text.

By the time I reached the venue, the lights had already started to dim. The event hall glowed with flashes from cameras, a flood of laughter, champagne glasses clinking in rhythm to some upbeat track in the background. Everything sparkled— dresses, diamonds, people. 

I should’ve been used to it by now. 

 This day is really long, it's still nice that we have an after party event to relax.

But tonight, everything felt louder. 

Maybe it was the message still echoing in my head.

I’ll be watching.

Martha was the first to find me backstage. “There you are! The press will go crazy tonight. You and Marven are trending already. Keep that energy, okay?”

“Sure,” I said, forcing a small smile.

Marven appeared beside me, dressed in a crisp black suit, the kind that makes photographers go wild. “Ready to give them another show?”

“Always,” I said, adjusting my dress.

As we stepped into the lights, the crowd’s energy wrapped around us. Cameras clicked like fireworks. Marven’s hand found the small of my back again, and I let it stay... professional, composed, perfect.

But my skin tingled where he touched me. Not because of him... but because I couldn’t shake the feeling that someone else’s eyes were already there first.

Somewhere in the crowd, I imagined her; still, unblinking, watching.

Every pose felt heavier. Every smile tighter.

“Relax, Ena,” Marven whispered between flashes. “You look like someone’s grading you.”

Maybe someone was.

After a few rounds of photos, we finally stepped away from the cameras. I grabbed a glass of champagne and slipped near one of the darker corners of the venue, trying to catch my breath. The music was softer here, but my pulse wasn’t.

My phone buzzed again.

Unknown Number:

You photograph well under pressure.

I looked up instinctively... scanning the crowd, searching for something I couldn’t even name.

Me:

Are you here?

No reply.

But I didn’t need one.

A few seconds later, the faint scent of mint and something faintly floral brushed past me; light, fleeting, familiar. I turned, but there was no one there. Just shadows, moving people, and the pulse of music.

Still, my chest tightened.

She wouldn’t really come here… would she?

Martha’s voice broke the moment. “Ena! Group photo, now!”

I forced a smile, placed my glass down, and returned to the stage lights. But even as the cameras flashed again, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I wasn’t posing for the crowd anymore.

I was performing for her, looking for her.