The humid Manila air hit Wesley Chai the moment the sliding doors of Ninoy Aquino International Airport hissed open. Even at past seven in the evening, the terminal buzzed with restless life. Families reunited in teary embraces, porters hauled luggage trolleys like soldiers in formation, and the faint scent of jet fuel blended with roasted peanuts from a vendor nearby. Wes adjusted the cuff of his crisp white shirt, scanning the crowd.
He had forgotten how chaotic airports could be.
Wes stood tall and composed despite the heat, the glow of the terminal lights catching the sharp lines of his jaw. People often assumed he was in his early thirties, sometimes even younger. It was partly genetics, partly discipline, early morning runs, heavy workouts, clean eating, and maybe, a touch of vanity. In the tinted glass doors, his reflection stared back, confirming what his colleagues always teased him about. He looked more like he belonged in a K-drama series on Netflix than in a boardroom.
He spotted a young woman in denim shorts and a pastel hoodie pushing a luggage cart toward him. She was waving, grinning ear to ear. For a second, he hesitated, there was something familiar about her eyes.
"Uncle Wes!" she called out, voice bright, melodic.
He blinked. Uncle?
"Mina?" he asked, unsure, stepping forward.
Her grin widened as she nodded. "You remembered my name! Wow, I was half expecting you to call me Mindy or something."
Wes laughed softly and shook his head. "I remember you, it's just been a long time. The last time I saw you, you were what... ten? Running around in pigtails at your grandma's place in Hong Kong?"
"And you look exactly the same," Mina said, eyes sparkling. "It's kind of unfair, honestly."
He chuckled again, taking the handle of her cart. "You've grown up. I barely recognized you."
Mina fell into step beside him, trying not to stare. She had spent the fourteen-hour flight telling herself she'd stay cool, that she wouldn't gush or blush when she saw him again, but the man walking beside her was even more striking than the image etched in her memory. His clean-cut features, calm confidence, and that faint citrus scent she could already associate with him, it all made her pulse quicken.
The car park was bright, lit by the pale white glare of LED lamps. Wes's black SUV waited near the exit. He loaded her luggage into the back with practiced efficiency before opening the passenger door for her.
"Thank you," she said, slipping in.
"No problem. You must be tired."
"Exhausted," she admitted. "But also… kinda nervous."
"About what?"
"About, you know, starting over. Manila's new to me. And, um… moving in with you."
He smiled lightly as he started the car. "Don't worry about it. My place isn't a mansion or anything, but it's comfortable. You'll have your own room, privacy, everything you need."
Mina nodded, watching the passing lights as they exited the airport. "I really appreciate you taking me in, Uncle Wes. I know you didn't have to."
He glanced at her briefly. "You're family. That's reason enough."
The warmth in his voice made something tighten in her chest.
They merged onto EDSA, the city sprawling around them in neon motion. Jeepneys painted with saints and superheroes darted between cars. Billboards of K-pop idols, local celebrities and beauty creams loomed above the traffic.
"So," Wes said after a pause, "Aunt Helen told me things got rough between your parents."
Mina's smile faltered slightly. "That's putting it mildly." She looked down at her hands, fingers fiddling with her phone. "They're… they're basically at war. And I guess I'm collateral damage."
"I'm sorry," Wes said softly.
"Yeah." Her voice wavered, but she quickly recovered, putting on her usual brightness. "But hey, silver lining, I get to live in the Philippines! I've always wanted to try real halo-halo, not the watered-down versions back in California."
Wes chuckled. "There's a great place near my neighborhood. You'll like it."
"Then it's a deal. You owe me one halo-halo trip," she said, trying to sound playful again.
"Done," he said, smiling.
They drove in comfortable silence for a while. Mina glanced at him when she thought he wasn't looking, at his strong hands on the wheel, the relaxed way he leaned into the seat, the calm control in every motion. He was so composed, so adult, yet he didn't seem old. There was still a boyish spark in his eyes that made her heart trip over itself.
"So… what do you do exactly?" she asked. "Mom said you're in business, but she never really explained it."
"I'm in shipping and logistics," he said. "We mostly handle the transportation of cargo via shipping containers. It isn't glamorous but it's steady work."
"That sounds big."
"Well not to blow my own horn or anything but I'm doing okay," he said, smirking faintly. "Though you'll probably hear me on calls at odd hours."
"That's fine. I'm used to studying with noise anyway."
"You'll be studying again?"
She nodded quickly. "I'm hoping to transfer to a local university once things settle. I don't want to just sit around."
"That's good," Wes said, approvingly. "You've got drive. Keep that. It'll take you farther than you think."
Mina smiled faintly, staring out the window. That's what I like about you, she thought. You always make people feel like they can still get back up.
The rain started halfway through the drive, soft at first, then heavier. The windshield wipers swept rhythmically as they turned into a quieter road lined with trees. Streetlights glowed through the drizzle like distant lanterns.
"This is our street," Wes said, easing the car up a gentle incline. "We're almost home."
Mina leaned closer to the window, watching the gated houses and the manicured lawns pass by. "Wow… it's beautiful here."
"It's peaceful," Wes said simply.
And as the car rolled to a stop in front of a two-story modern house, the rain softened to a mist. Mina felt the weight of exhaustion settle in her body but underneath it was something else.
A strange, fluttering awareness.
She had come to Manila to rebuild her life. But sitting beside Wes, her impossibly youthful uncle who had opened his home to her, she couldn't help feeling that fate had set the stage for something she didn't quite understand yet.
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Observer Log: Manila, 19:35 PHT
Lee grimaced, the sound of the clutch groaning once again in complaint as he shifted gears. It was a familiar, unwelcome noise that echoed the low thrum of his frustration with this assignment. The second-hand Toyota Corolla, a deliberately nondescript vehicle bought strictly with cash, shuddered as he forced it into gear. He was crawling along the congested, neon-drenched artery of EDSA, the slow moving traffic making a perfect cover for tailing and the source of his constant torment.
He'd been glued to his observation target for thirty one sterile days. A month of chasing routine. Board meetings, overpriced dinners, press appearances, there was nothing, absolutely nothing to justify the cryptic urgency impressed upon him during the initial briefing.
But today had offered a flicker of anticipation. The target had finally broken his pattern, leaving the office early and driving straight to the international terminal. Lee's pulse had quickened, only to immediately deflate. The 'interesting' deviation was something utterly mundane: picking up a young relative, perhaps a niece.
Lee slammed his hand against the cracked vinyl dashboard, the dull thud masked by the surrounding noise of his vibrating car. He stared at the retreating taillights of the target's black SUV. Was this really the deep cover of a true professional, or was he just wasting his time?
He sighed, the humid air thick with the smell of diesel and bus exhaust. His target was strongly profiled as one of the few men who might be the true head of the shadow organization his employers were hunting. He desperately hoped his target was more than just a typical CEO, that beneath the bespoke suit and public profile lay the cold, amoral current of a master strategist hiding in plain sight. But the man was proving utterly mundane. Every logged minute felt like a costly lie, leaving Lee wondering if he was chasing a ghost or the deepest cover imaginable.