The drive home was quiet but filled with that charged kind of silence that comes after a long day. The glow of passing streetlights reflected off the windshield, painting Wes and Mina in fleeting golden light as the SUV moved steadily through Manila's evening traffic.
By the time they pulled into the driveway, it was a little past nine. The house felt unusually still after the bright noise of the studio. Mina trailed behind Wes, still processing everything she'd seen, the models, the lights, the cameras, the way Lisa commanded the room with effortless confidence.
Wes set his keys down and loosened his collar. "You must be hungry," he said, moving toward the kitchen.
"Starving," Mina admitted, sitting on one of the bar stools.
He smiled faintly and turned toward the kitchen counter. A quiet, focused energy seemed to emanate from him, as he moved with a practiced grace, pulling out ingredients to prepare something simple yet deeply comforting: wok-fried noodles tossed with thinly sliced chicken, shitake mushrooms, and green scallions.
Soon the scent of hot oil and soy sauce filled the air. With effortless grace, he worked the wok, flipping the contents with a single, quick-wristed movement. The rhythmic clack-clack of the metal pan was the only sound in the calm, domestic space.
"So, Lisa is really pretty…" Mina ventured, her voice carefully modulated to sound casual, as if she were commenting on the weather.
Wes looked over his shoulder, his eyes thoughtful, but his hand never stopped tossing the noodles. "Yes, she is. It's not surprising considering she was a former supermodel before she decided to put up her own agency."
"Oh…" Mina intoned, looking down at the sleek, black granite of the kitchen counter. "No wonder she had this aura that seemed to draw you in. It must be nice being able to command attention like that." A slight, involuntary touch of envy laced her tone.
He caught it instantly as he began plating the steaming food. He slid a generous portion of the noodles onto her plate. "You have that too, you know." He paused, his attention on her. "You probably haven't noticed yet, but you also have a tendency to draw people's eyes."
Mina nearly dropped the plate. Did Wes just say that about her? She looked up, startled, to see his gaze steady and serious.
"Don't you remember the convention and the afterparty afterwards? How you were the center of attention, with everyone rushing up to introduce themselves and talk to you?"
"T-That was different. Everyone was just being nice because I'm your niece."
Wes gave her a chiding grin. "It's got nothing to do with me, Mina, believe me. You're tall, physically attractive, and you've got a vibrant personality people want to be around. All you need is a bit of confidence and I'm sure you'll be able to command rooms just like Lisa."
Mina quickly bowed her head, hoping to hide the rush of heat that flooded her cheeks. Her heart hammered against her ribs. The thought that Wes found her physically attractive kept echoing in her mind, threatening to overwhelm her focus. She needed a quick exit from the topic.
"Do you think I'll do well?" she asked, quickly changing the subject. "As a model, I mean?"
"Mina, I think you'll do amazingly well." Wes took a sip of water, his expression turning serious again. "You'll probably do better than me when I first started. But I need to warn you, though. Modeling is a lot of work. It takes hours of preparation for a single shoot, and you'll need to be fully committed to it. It's okay if you want to try doing it just for the experience, but if you want to succeed at it and turn it into a career, you have to go all in, no half measures."
Mina kept her eyes fixed on the soft sheen of noodles and scallions on her plate, fighting to keep her expression neutral. But the warmth in her face didn't fade. Her cheeks felt hot and tight, a stark contrast to the sudden chill that shot through her chest whenever her thoughts strayed back to Wes's words.
"You're tall, physically attractive, and you've got a vibrant personality…"
He had delivered the compliment so casually, so professionally, as if he were simply analyzing the elements of a good photograph. Yet, hearing him describe her in the same breath as a former supermodel like Lisa made her stomach flutter.
She had just been exposed to another part of her uncle's world. After seeing the endless stream of beautiful, confident people moving about the modeling studio, she felt like a slightly awkward shadow in that luminous orbit. But now, Wes was pulling her into the light, giving her a label she hadn't dared to claim for herself.
He thinks I'm physically attractive.
The thought was a dangerous spark. Wes wasn't just anyone. He was the most handsome, most effortlessly cool person she knew, and for him to single out her appearance... it felt like a heavy, wonderful secret pressed against her heart. She risked a quick glance up at him. He was leaning against the counter, calmly watching her, waiting for her reaction to his warning about the work involved in modeling.
His focus was entirely professional now, a serious sculptor advising an apprentice. That sober gaze was what finally helped Mina regain her footing. He wasn't flirting; he was simply being a good mentor, laying out the facts. He saw her potential, and that potential included her looks. She needed to treat his words the same way, as a sincere evaluation point, not a romantic overture.
Get a grip, Mina, she told herself firmly. He's your uncle. He's trying to help you.
She took a deep, steadying breath and forced herself to pick up her chopsticks.
"I understand," she said, her voice sounding steadier than she felt. "I know it's a big commitment and a huge amount of work. I'm not planning on taking it lightly." She met his eyes, allowing herself a small, genuine smile.
Wes gave a small nod, satisfied with her serious response. He picked up his own plate of noodles, the steam curling faintly around his face. "Good. Because the other thing you need to be prepared for is the rejection. It's brutal."
He moved from the counter to the small, circular kitchen table, pulling out a chair. Mina followed, the delicious aroma of the wok fried dish grounding her slightly as she settled in. The noodles were perfectly cooked, springy, savory, and exactly what she needed after a tense evening.
"It's not like other careers," Wes continued, twirling a few strands of noodles onto his chopsticks. "In most jobs, rejection is about your skills and abilities. In modeling, rejection is often about your face, your body, your height, your connections. It can feel intensely personal, even when it's not."
He took a bite, chewing thoughtfully before he spoke again. "You might be too short for one client, or too tall for another. Your nose might be the wrong shape for a certain beauty brand, or your hair might not be what the current trends demand. You have to develop a thick skin, Mina. You have to learn to walk into a room, give it your absolute best, and then walk out without letting the inevitable 'no' chip away at your self-worth."
Mina listened intently, her chopsticks hovering over her bowl. The comforting flavor of the dish suddenly had a slightly metallic edge of reality to it.
"Even the top models, the ones you see everywhere, they get turned down constantly. It's a numbers game," he explained, pushing his plate slightly to the side to emphasize his point. "And that ties into the third major challenge, the pressure. The pressure to maintain a certain look, certain measurements, certain energy, all while living out of a suitcase and being constantly judged."
He looked directly at her, his expression softening slightly. "I'm not trying to scare you off. I just want you to walk into this with your eyes wide open, understanding that the glamour you see in the magazines is built on a massive amount of stress and sacrifice." He paused, then gave her a gentle, encouraging smile. "Can you handle that, Mina?"
Mina took a slow, deliberate bite of the chicken and noodles, letting the savory comfort anchor her before she responded. She chewed slowly, weighing his words, then swallowed.
"I… I think so," she finally admitted, her voice low but firm. "It sounds intense, definitely. But I'm willing to work hard. And I trust you Uncle Wes, if you think this is something I'll be good at."
Wes studied her face for a moment, seeing the flicker of determination in her eyes. He realized he might have laid on the harsh truths a little too thickly. The last thing he wanted was to intimidate her away from a career he genuinely believed she had the talent for.
He eased back in his chair, picking up his chopsticks again and gesturing with them toward the food. "Good. Eat up. We can talk business later." He took a bite, then continued, his tone shifting to one of easy encouragement.
"Look, I don't want to discourage you. That was just the full, unvarnished truth about the industry. But right now, you have an incredible advantage. Most people trying to break into modeling spend years working retail or pouring coffee while attending endless open calls just for a single test shoot."
He leaned slightly toward her, a spark of excitement returning to his eyes. "You have Lisa. Because of her, you have an amazing opportunity to just dip your toes in. You're not starting from scratch; you're starting with a professional connection who knows the business and who trusts me. You'll have a chance to see if the environment, the pace, and the demands are actually the right fit for you, without the usual crippling stress of trying to just get noticed."
Wes tapped the table lightly. "Take advantage of this, Mina. Commit to the process for the next few months, give it your absolute best, and see how you feel. It might be exactly where you're meant to be, or it might just be a fantastic life experience. Either way, it's a win."
They ate in comfortable silence for a few minutes, the warm sound of chopsticks tapping against bowls and the occasional slurp of noodles filling the small space. The food was a perfect balm, settling the earlier tension.
Mina finally broke the quiet, her curiosity outweighing her manners. "Uncle Wes, you were so amazing during the photoshoot, why didn't you go all in on becoming a professional model? I mean, you look better than most of the models I've seen on billboards and magazines."
He chuckled, reaching for his water glass. "A kind exaggeration, but thank you. To be honest, my interests lie elsewhere. Sure, it's a lot of fun, and I do a few shoots occasionally for Lisa whenever she needs me. But I consider it more of a hobby and a way of doing a friend a favor, rather than an actual career. Besides, I make way more money as a CEO than I do as a model."
Mina, unable to fully control her curiosity now that the door was ajar, asked a rather indelicate question. "Just how rich are you, Uncle Wes?"
He paused, giving her a sidelong glance that quickly turned into a sly grin. "Well, I'm not Scrooge McDuck rich, if that's what you're asking. But let's just say that I have enough saved up to take care of you, so you don't need to rush into anything in the future."
Mina felt a familiar blush creep up her neck as she looked down at her bowl. "I'll always be grateful to you for taking me in when you did."
"Remember that when I'm old and grey and need you to change my bed pan," Wes said lightheartedly, lightening the serious moment.
She laughed at the absurd image, the weight in the air lifting. But beneath the laughter, she silently promised herself that she would always be there for Wes, if he should ever need her in the future.
Later that night, the house was quiet. Wes stepped outside under the pretense of checking on something in the garage. Mina, meanwhile, sat curled up on the living room couch, the glow of the television providing the only light. She replayed the day's events: the respectful smiles of the models, the quiet ease between Wes and Lisa, and the certainty in his voice when he spoke about her potential.
Outside, Wes leaned against his car, phone pressed to his ear, talking quietly into the receiver. It was another errand, another world of business and responsibility that Mina still knew little about.
When he finally returned, she was already half-asleep, the faint blue light of the screen washing over her face. He moved silently, easily lifting her into his arms, and carried her back to her bedroom. He gently laid her down, pulled the blanket up over her shoulders, and paused at the doorway.
For a moment, Wes looked back at his sleeping niece, and something unspoken passed through his expression, a softness, a flicker of hesitation, before he turned away, disappearing into the quiet upstairs hallway.