The first thing Mina heard that morning was the sound of breathing. It was rhythmic, deep, and steady. A powerful, anchoring sound that tugged her gently from the last remnants of sleep.
She stirred, the faint light pulling her eyes open. Morning sunlight was already pouring into the room through the thin blackout curtains, casting golden streaks across the hallway that led to the open living area. And there he was.
Wes.
He was barefoot, clad only in a pair of dark athletic shorts, his bare chest glistening faintly with a sheen of sweat. He moved through his morning workout with a quiet, devastating intensity. The muscles in his back shifted and tightened like coiled steel cables with every controlled movement. The slow descent of a push-up, the rigid lock of his arms, the effortless transition into resistance band shoulder presses.
Mina froze in the doorway, forgetting to breathe herself. She had seen Wes shirtless before, in magazine photos, at yesterday's shoot in Lisa's studio. But this was different. This was raw, unposed. The quiet, terrifying power of a man completely attuned to his body, focused entirely on the physical moment.
Almost instinctively, she found her hand reaching for her phone.
Just a short clip, she told herself. For my stories. For inspiration.
Her camera captured Wes mid-motion, the subtle flex of his abdominal muscles as he transitioned to crunches, the fluid rotations of his shoulders. It wasn't vanity she was filming, it was sheer, kinetic presence. He looked more vital, more intensely alive, than any fitness celebrity she had ever watched on screen.
But then, Wes turned.
His eyes, quick and intelligent, met hers across the distance of the room.
For a moment, time seemed to stand still. Mina was frozen stiff, like a child caught with her hand in the cookie jar. Wes straightened up, a slow, amused smirk curling his lips.
"Morning," he said, his voice warm and teasing, slightly husky from exertion. "Enjoying the show?"
Mina's cheeks flared a violent, undeniable red. "I—uh—I was just—"
"Filming me?" He chuckled, grabbing a towel from the nearby couch and wiping the sweat from his neck and face. "Next time, you should at least charge admission. I could use the royalties."
She groaned and covered her face with her hands. "You caught me. I was going to post it, but now I'm definitely deleting it. Gone. Vanished."
"Relax," Wes said easily, walking past her toward the kitchen area. He was completely not selfconscious. "You might actually help me get a few more followers. Lisa would probably thank you for the free promotion."
Mina peeked through her fingers, managing a small, wry smile despite her embarrassment. "You're so extra."
"I'm not extra," Wes replied, reaching for a bottle of water. "I just like living my life in bold font." He tilted his head toward her. "You hungry?"
"Always."
"Good. Because I forgot to restock the freezer. We're running on fumes here. You up for breakfast outside?"
Mina blinked. "Now? Like—go out, out?"
"Yeah," he confirmed, already pulling on a fitted black cotton shirt that immediately molded itself to his powerful frame. The thin fabric stretched tight over his chest and shoulders, outlining every hard line beneath. "There's a Denny's just down the strip. No need to dress up, you look fine as is."
She glanced down at herself: a loose tank top, baggy shorts, and her hair tied up in a quick, messy bun. "This?"
"That," Wes said with a genuine, small grin. "Don't worry, I hear the clean girl look is all the rage these days. Besides, it's just breakfast, not a red-carpet event."
Mina stared at him for a blank moment. "Uncle... have you been reading women's magazines lately?"
Wes gave her a quick, sly wink. "Had to. Young ladies don't exactly come with instruction manuals, so I had to read up on the subject. Now, go wash your face. I'll grab the keys."
Mina let out a breath of amused, slightly exasperated resignation. Then, smiling, she went into the bathroom to freshen up.
By the time Mina joined him at the black SUV, the Manila morning was already a symphony of noise and motion: jeepneys rattled past, the deep hum of traffic rose under the intensifying blue sky. Wes drove with a casual, almost languid ease, his heavy Panerai watch glinting subtly on his wrist. His entire demeanor was low-key and relaxed, as if the entire world was his to command if he wanted to.
At Denny's, they found a booth near the window. The air inside smelled reassuringly of strong coffee, pancakes and fried eggs. Mina felt the tension of the past few days lift little by little as they laughed about small, ordinary things: her reaction to his morning fitness routine, Wes teasing her about her nonexistent cooking skills, and Mina joking that maybe she would post his workout clip after all.
She smiled, feeling a profound sense of peace. For the first time since the turmoil of her parents' hostile divorce, she felt normal again, whole, anchored by this easygoing presence beside her. This felt like family.
Casually looking past Wes, Mina noticed several female servers glancing toward their table, then quickly looking away whenever he looked up.
"Uncle," she said, cutting into a fluffy stack of pancakes, "can I ask you something?"
He looked up from his plate. "Sure."
"How are you able to stay looking like that? I know I asked this before, but I'm really curious. You really don't seem to age at all."
"Careful now, that sounds dangerously like a compliment." Wes laughed good-naturedly. "To be honest, I have Lisa to thank for all this. Of course, eating well and exercising regularly is important, but all the exercise in the world won't help if you don't know how to take care of your skin properly. Lisa shared with me a lot of secrets she learned over the years as a top model."
Mina nodded thoughtfully, suppressing an unpleasant flicker of emotion she didn't want to analyze. "Lisa is pretty amazing."
"She really is, in more ways than one." Wes said simply. "You really should get to know her better. Lisa can help you in ways I can't. I'll always be there for you, Mina, but at the end of the day, I'm still a guy. There are things you need a female figure for that I won't be able to provide."
She smiled at that reassurance; Wes promising to always be there was all the certainty she truly needed. Lisa seemed nice, but given her recent history, Mina was deeply uncomfortable with the notion of another parental figure in her life.
Wes eyed her closely, as if he could read the internal resistance beneath her smile. "I know what you're thinking. Don't think of Lisa as a parental figure, she'd kill me for even suggesting the notion. Rather, think of Lisa as an older sister. Someone more experienced than you who can help you when you have questions I can't answer myself."
Mina, unable to hold back the single, most pressing question in her mind any longer, decided to just ask it. "Uncle Wes, is Lisa your girlfriend?"
Wes paused, looking at her with an unreadable expression, then gave her a small, melancholy smile. "Not right now. Lisa and I have a complicated relationship."
A part of Mina, a part she quickly silenced, felt an absurd rush of relief. But the way he answered left her desperately curious. "What do you mean by 'not right now,' Uncle Wes?"
Wes sighed, and took a slow sip of his black coffee. "Lisa and I have been going through this revolving cycle of being in a relationship and then not, for the past five years now. It all has to do with our constantly busy careers and crazy lifestyles. So, there really isn't anyone to blame."
For reasons she absolutely refused to dwell on, Mina reacted strongly. "That's really unfair to you, Uncle Wes. If I were Lisa, I'd never break up with you."
She instantly realized the implications of her sudden, passionate outburst and bowed her head in embarrassment, wanting desperately to burrow beneath her pancakes and disappear.
Wes, sensing her mortification, immediately disarmed the situation with a joke. "Well, I appreciate the thought, but trust me, hearing me go on about how 'not canon' the Witcher series is or how bad all the new Star Wars TV shows are, is a trial even for the strongest among us."
Mina laughed, remembering once again how big of a geek her charming uncle actually is, and for a few minutes, the world was peaceful again. The gentle clink of forks, the soft chatter of other diners, the sunlight spilling through the window, it all felt wonderfully, beautifully ordinary.
Until it wasn't.
The illusion of calm shattered like glass. A sharp, violent crash of ceramic plates hitting the tiled floor ripped through the small diner, instantly silencing the usual morning chatter. The sound was deafening, startling even the noisiest of families. It erupted from the kitchen area, just beyond the stainless-steel service counter.
Wes's head snapped toward the noise with the swiftness of a striking snake. His eyes, which were seconds ago warm and teasing, narrowed to cold slits, the warm, easy going, relaxed demeanor vanishing instantly as if wiped clean. His hand, which had been resting casually on the table, tightened into a fist.
Mina froze mid-bite, her fork suspended over her pancakes, startled less by the sound and more by the instantaneous and terrifying transformation in her uncle.
Around them, other diners stirred, turning and murmuring nervously. A hesitant waitress hurried toward the swinging metal doors leading backstage.
But Wes didn't move yet. He didn't rise nor call out. He remained fixed in his seat, his body utterly still but coiled with predatory alertness. He was watching the bottleneck of the kitchen, waiting. A seasoned operator assessing whether the sound was simply a clumsy accident... or the first note of a serious threat.