Chapter 5: Rent Free (Walter)

Walter's Point of View

Focus has suddenly become a foreign word in my vocabulary after what Samantha did earlier. Hours have passed, yet my head is still spinning from the way our bodies nearly fused when she wrapped her hands around the back of my neck. Her gaze was magnetic—pulling me closer, making it impossible to look away.

“Sir?”

I snapped back to reality when Samantha tapped my shoulder. We were inside the car, sitting side by side in the backseat behind the driver.

“What?” I replied, annoyed, smoothing the front of my polo with my palm as my eyes stayed on hers.

“We're here,” she said, her tone serious. “The driver has been calling you for a while, but you didn’t respond. You were just . . . zoning out.”

I glanced at her briefly before opening the car door. “I didn’t ask for an explanation.”

I stepped out and looked up at the building in front of me. Almost four in the afternoon, yet the sun still burned my skin like it was noon.

“Why are we here, Sir?” Samantha asked. Her voice barely reached me over the noise of traffic outside.

I didn’t look back or answer. I started walking up the stairs. Fortunately, our destination was only on the second floor. Five storeys in total, and no elevator in sight. I know, this is indeed hell.

I stopped in front of a glass door. When I glanced back, Samantha had stopped too.

“Follow me,” I said, pushing the door open. The cold air inside hit me instantly after the heat outside that almost burned my skin.

I walked straight to the reception desk where two women in pink scrubs stood. Behind them, soft yellow lights illuminated the clinic’s name—Ivy Aesthetics.

“Good afternoon, Sir. Are you here to schedule an appointment?” one asked. Her smile was eager, but there was something about the way she approached me that felt off—like she was trying too hard.

I assumed she's new. I had never seen her before, and she clearly didn’t know me. “Sir” was all she called me. She didn’t know I didn’t need to schedule anything.

A few moments later, a smile crept across my lips as the glass door behind the two women opened. A woman in a medical gown stepped out—it was Doc Ivy Sinculan, one of the country’s top dermatologists.

She’s been my dermatologist since I was a teenager. Thanks to her, I’ve been able to keep my youthful appearance. She’s about my mom’s age, but compared to my mom, she looks ten years younger. Not that my mom looks old—it’s just that Doc Ivy’s expertise is visible in how she carries herself.

“Walter,” she called as she approached me and hugged me. Without warning, she stepped closer to my back. I followed her with my eyes.

She held Samantha by the shoulder while smiling. They were the same height.

“Is she the lucky lady?” she asked, glancing at me. I scowled at her choice of words.

“You were right, Walter. She’s pretty, but she needs some work,” Doc Ivy added.

She shouldn’t have said that. Samantha might think she’s already flawless. I closed my eyes and shook my head.

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Samantha now lay on the dermatology chair as Doc Ivy took notes on the procedures.

“As I said earlier, you’re already beautiful. Your skin just shows stress and fatigue. This is common for people who juggle a lot or are under pressure at work or at home,” Doc Ivy began.

I stood behind her, observing.

“Mostly work, I think,” Samantha replied, giving me a look. Even Doc Ivy glanced at me. God, this woman!

“Anyway, dear, our first procedure will be a glow-enhancing facial with a jet peel. It’s great for deep cleansing, hydration, and brightening. Don’t worry, it’s completely pain-free and safe for sensitive skin,” Doc Ivy explained, pointing to areas on Samantha’s face.

After that, I stepped out. Doc Ivy knew what she was doing, and I couldn’t bear to stay there any longer.

I got back into the car. The driver was asleep. I thought I could do the same, but my phone rang.

Someone was calling. The owner of Hacienda Oledan apparently didn’t understand what “meeting canceled” meant. I silenced the phone and closed my eyes, trying to sleep. Minutes passed, but rest didn’t come.

“Fuck!” I shouted, slamming my forehead against the seat in front of me. The driver jolted awake.

“Sir, are you okay?” he asked, worried.

I sighed, looking out the window. “I need fresh air and the sound of waves. Take us to the nearest shore.”

The driver paused. “Sir, there’s no sea nearby.”

I rolled my eyes. “I don’t care. Find one.”

I stared outside again. The thought of the wedding anniversary churned in my chest. Even with a fake girlfriend in place, I am still frustrated. What if I choose not to attend? Hell! It could mean disaster. Bullshit! I just wanted peace of mind—and what Samantha did earlier made it worse.