Wes cleared the last of the plates from the counter, stacking them with quiet, habitual precision. Mina, still seated on the stool, slowly turned her mug of coffee between her hands, her eyes distant, unfocused on the swirling cream.
He caught the look immediately, that small, tell-tale furrow in her brow, the way her lips pressed together in a moment of hesitation.
"Not convinced about the modeling thing?" Wes asked gently, his tone easy and non-pressuring.
Mina looked up, slightly startled that he'd noticed. "I just… I don't know. It's not really something I've ever imagined myself doing. It feels like a world away from everything else."
"That's fair," he conceded, rinsing a dish before setting it carefully into the rack. "Most people feel that way." He dried his hands methodically, then leaned back against the counter, casually crossing his arms over his chest. "Tell you what, how about you see what it's actually like first? No commitments, no pressure. Just a look behind the curtain, zero expectations."
Her innate curiosity, which always outweighed her shyness, sparked immediately. "You mean at a real photoshoot? Today?"
He nodded. "Yeah. Lisa's running one this morning, a campaign for a luxury resort in Palawan. A high-end lifestyle shoot. I was planning to drop by anyway; she needs my signature on a few documents related to the agency's insurance."
Mina's moment of hesitation evaporated, replaced by a keen interest in the unknown. She brightened, offering a genuine smile. "Alright… why not? That sounds incredible."
"Good," Wes said, already grabbing his car keys from the magnetic hook. "It'll be an experience, if nothing else."
The drive through Manila's late morning traffic was steady and unhurried, Wes navigating the city's complex arteries with effortless ease. Mina watched the dense skyline blur by, a striking juxtaposition of shimmering glass towers and aging concrete structures. A mix of old and new, just like everything else she was discovering in this city.
"So… what's it actually like?" she asked as they neared the commercial district known for housing creative agencies and production houses. "Being in a photoshoot?"
Wes smiled faintly, keeping his eyes on the road. "It's a lot less glamorous than the final result suggests. Early call times, blinding lights, long hours, and constant retakes. You repeat the same subtle gesture fifty times." He paused as he changed lanes smoothly. "But when everything clicks, the lighting, the exact expression, the timing... it's a little like performing. You get to tell an entire story without speaking a single word."
"I think that's what makes it interesting," Mina said thoughtfully. "It's not just posing, is it?"
"Not at all," Wes confirmed. "It's acting, extreme discipline, and high-stakes teamwork, all rolled into one session."
The car pulled up to a low, modern, charcoal-gray building tucked behind a quiet, unassuming street: Apex Talent Studios. Even before they stepped out, Mina could hear a faint, pulsating rhythm of music and the staccato, rhythmic bursts of a camera shutter escaping from the vents.
The moment Wes stepped through the studio's heavy door, heads began to turn.
"Wes! Hey, man, long time no see!" "Sir Wes, good morning!"
A few of the crew, techs running cables, women carrying enormous rolling garment racks, paused to offer waves and greetings. The energy inside was relaxed yet frenetically busy, a well-choreographed chaos of stylists, young assistants carrying clipboards, and lighting techs fine-tuning equipment.
Mina stayed close behind him, trying to make herself small and avoid tripping over the wires taped across the floor. The atmosphere was electric with the high-pitched whine of hair dryers, soft chatter blending with the insistent beat of upbeat pop music. Racks of colorful, sample-sized resort wear lined the walls like bright tropical plumage.
She saw models moving from one small setup to another, some practicing expressions in large vanity mirrors, others being coached by a photographer on posture and gesture. There was nothing scandalous or awkward about it; the entire operation was professional, focused, and vividly alive.
For a moment, Mina completely forgot her own nervousness.
Wes moved through the space like a benevolent emperor, greeting people like old friends, shaking hands, and offering easy, genuine smiles. He seemed to know everyone by name, and everyone clearly held him in high regard.
"Wes! I thought you were still in Cebu!" a woman with a high-tech headset and a clipboard called out from across the room.
"Came back a week early," Wes replied with a casual grin. "Where's the queen bee, Lisa?"
"She's with the creative team," the woman replied. "You'll find her in the main bay. They're panicking."
They moved into the largest section of the studio, a vast, bright space where a massive printed tropical beach backdrop filled one entire wall. The set was meticulously scattered with props: a hanging woven hammock, sleek new surfboards, mock sand, and huge, soft reflectors that made the entire area glow with artificial golden sunlight.
And there she was: Lisa Moreno.
Tall, utterly poised, and effortlessly commanding. Her features were strikingly symmetrical, her dark hair pulled back into a sleek, severe ponytail that framed a face both elegant and acutely sharp. She moved with the decisive ease that came from years of being absolutely in charge.
When she saw Wes, her face lit up, a brilliant, genuine flash of relief. "Finally! My knight in shining armor!"
"Lisa," Wes greeted, his grin widening. "Always dramatic."
"I have reason to be," Lisa countered, exhaling with mock exasperation, running a hand through her ponytail. "Our male model's flight was diverted to Singapore, and we're already a full day behind schedule. Unless I pull off a miracle, this entire multi-million peso campaign falls apart."
Mina smiled faintly, enjoying the easy, familiar banter between them. Their chemistry was natural, professional yet deeply familiar.
Lisa then turned her sharp gaze toward Mina. "And who is this lovely young lady you've smuggled in?"
"This is Mina," Wes said, placing a light hand on Mina's shoulder. "She's my niece from L.A. I promised to show her what a shoot looks like."
Lisa offered a warm, firm handshake. "Welcome to the madness, Mina. Don't mind the chaos, we live for it."
Mina smiled shyly. "It's… amazing, actually. I didn't expect it to be so alive."
Lisa grinned. "That's a very good word for it." She turned back to Wes, her expression changing immediately into one of subtle, practiced pleading. "Speaking of miracles, my hero, you wouldn't by any chance want to save my entire morning, would you?"
Wes raised a single, knowing brow. "What exactly are you plotting, Lisa?"
Lisa folded her arms, her half-smile daring him to refuse. "The male model for this specific campaign? The one who didn't make it? You still fit the uniform, and, more importantly, the resort brand absolutely loves you. I cannot think of anyone better who could step in."
Wes chuckled, genuinely amused. "You're not serious."
"Oh, I'm absolutely serious," she insisted, gesturing toward the wardrobe rack. "Come on, it's just a few key shots, a quick in-and-out. We'll be done in an hour tops."
Mina watched, wide-eyed, the pieces clicking into place. "You mean Uncle Wes is going to model… today?"
Lisa laughed, a triumphant sound. "If I can convince him to save my neck, yes."
Wes sighed, rubbing the back of his neck in a gesture of reluctant surrender. "You owe me a fancy dinner, Lisa. And a new bottle of that excellent single malt."
Lisa grinned victoriously. "Done. Now go, wardrobe is waiting!"
Mina stood rooted to the spot as Wes disappeared with the wardrobe team, the crew suddenly moving faster, the atmosphere tightening now that their replacement model had been secured.
For the first time, she was seeing a completely different side of him, not the quiet, measured businessman or the stoic, protective mentor, but a man who could command an entire room's attention without even trying.
When Wes returned to the set dressed for the shoot, barefoot and wearing casual, high-end linen beachwear, his posture straight and his face composed and professional, Mina felt a strange, surging mix of pride and sheer awe.
He wasn't just good at this.
He belonged here.
Lisa smiled approvingly as she adjusted a large gold reflector. "Alright, everyone! We've got our miracle. Let's make this count!"
And as the photographer called out direction, and the first flash went off in a blinding burst of light, Mina watched Wes Chai transform in front of the camera, his focus absolute, his confidence effortless.
For a moment, she forgot entirely about the secret room upstairs, the mysterious meetings, or the ambiguity of his work.
Right now, this was the only world she saw. Bright, fascinating, professional, and undeniably his.