Chapter Text
Almost two hours of being stuck with a stranger — one who acted weird, way too comfortable, and cute. All while mikha was battling a severe headache and the desperate urge to fall asleep behind the wheels. Who wouldn’t be fucked up?
1:03 AM
“You have arrived at your destination.”
Thank GOD! Mikha thought.
She could finally breathe. She was ready to go home, crawl into bed, play CODM, and never hear that girl’s voice again. But just as she let her guard down—
“Mikhaaaaaa—“
“Ma’am, we’re here.”
“I have a name.”
“And I have a job.”
“Fuck you. I thought we were friends.”
“Kahit anong pag-usapan natin, lasing ka pa rin talaga ‘no?” Aiah stared at her for a second — then burst out laughing. That kind of laugh that na sobrang nakaka-offend. What the fuck?
“You—” She gasped through her laughter, “Your accent! You’re so cute, Mikha Lim. I’ve never met a Grab driver who speaks tagalog like a foreigner. Amoy rich kid pa. Lasallian?! Driving a freakin’ Ferrari?!”
“Siraulo ka rin, ‘no?” She added, laughing harder.
Mikha groaned. “I told you! it’s—“
Why am I even explaining?
“You know what? Just get out of my car, please. I want to rest. And you should, too.”
“Wow. Concerned ka sa’kin?”
“If you could see your condition through my eyes right now, you would be, too.”
“Whatever!” Aiah huffed.
Mikha says nothing. Just looking at her in disbelief. Bakit parang wala ‘tong balak lumayas sa sasakyan ko? She thought—frustrated, irritated, name it.
And yet, she found herself staring at Aiah’s eyes again.
They were loud. Like they were telling her to shut up—but her mouth wouldn’t cooperate. It was helpless. She was beautiful.
Mikha sighed. Should she help her? Or not? She wanted to go home. She wanted to rest, maybe play Call of Duty all night and enjoy some solid alone time.
But the thing about Mikha? She was soft. Especially when it came to pretty girls like the one beside her. There was no way she could just leave a drunk woman out here at 1 AM. That wasn’t her. She was better than that.
Fine. I should do something.
“Aiah.” Mikha finally spoke.
“ANO.”
…. maybe this was a mistake?
”Oh, now you’re calling me by my name ha? Ayoko na. You started it—live with it. It’s ‘ma’am’ for you, Mikha Lim!”
“Okay.”
“OKAY?!”
“Ma’am, you really should go now—“
“EDI OKAY!”
Without another word, Aiah swung the door open, stepped out, and slammed it behind her. She almost fell. Mikha noticed. She was tensed, but understanding.
She’s drunk, Mikha. Kalma lang.
Without hesitation, Mikha got out of the car. Just in time too — Aiah stumbled again, and Mikha caught her. “Ma’am — I’m sorry, but I can’t leave you like this. Not out here. Not in this state.”
“H-Huh? Sino ka?”
Jusko naman.
“It’s Mikha Lim. Sue me if you have to, but I’m not leaving you alone here.”
Aiah just stares at her, as if trying to make sense of the world around her.
“Mikha.. Lim? ‘Yung kumidnap sa’kin?”
Mikha shut her eyes, silently questioning every life decision that led her here.
“Yes. ‘Yung kumidnap sa’yo. Ihahatid ka niya sa bahay mo, Okay?”
“Wow… ang bait mo namang kidnapper.”
“I know.”
Aiah squinted at the dark building in front of them. The entrance lights cast a yellow hue on the marble steps and silent lobby beyond the glass doors. Everything looked peaceful and luxurious.
“We’re at Talaarawan Towers, right?” Aiah asked, her voice groggy.
“Yes. Ituro mo sa’kin where you live, I’ll take you there. After that, you won’t hear from me ever again.”
“… Okay.”
-
It was war.
Mikha thought Aiah was less drunk earlier. Maybe she was. But now?
Tangina.
They had made it inside the building—a sleek, high-rise residential tower with cold AC and soft jazz playing in the lobby. The walls were lined with silver-accented tiles and modern artwork. The elevator had a velvet mat and smelled like imported cologne spray.
And Aiah... Aiah was lost, in every way possible.
“Oops! Sa 6th floor pala. My bad,” Aiah mumbled after the first detour.
“Mikha… I think I remember now… 27th floor.”
“Where is this? Hala! Mali ulit. Hehe.”
And then, the cherry on top:
“Mikha, wrong building ata ‘to.”
Sana pala binangga ko nalang kanina.
They have walked in circles—from the lobby to random floors, then back down again. Aiah would pause in front of a door, blink, and then shake her head. “Wait lang. Hindi ito.” Over and over. Mikha’s patience was hanging by a thread.
Why am I even doing this?
But then—Aiah stumbled. Almost crumpled to the floor.
Luckily, Mikha caught her just in time.
“Aiah? Aiah, hey,” she said, softening. She adjusted her grip and gently pulled Aiah closer.
The girl’s weight leaned into her like she was giving up completely. “It looks like you’re too wasted to even remember your unit,” Mikha whispered. “Let’s just go back to the lobby. We’ll ask for help, okay?”
Aiah mumbled something incomprehensible. It might have been gibberish, might have been her version of “okay”.
“…I’ll take that as a yes.”
-
Back at the lobby, it was quiet. The soft jazz still played behind the speakers. A night receptionist stood by the counter — typing something into a computer. The second they entered, Mikha guided Aiah to a nearby couch and helped her sit. “Stay here,” she told her firmly. “I’ll ask for some help.” Aiah gave her a weak thumbs-up, half-asleep, her body already melting into the cushions like she could sleep there forever.
Mikha turned to the counter.
“Excuse me po.”
The receptionist, a young man with a neat haircut and a calm smile, looked up. “Good evening, ma’am. How can I help you?”
“Yeah, so, my—“ Mikha glanced back at Aiah, who had now started humming to herself.
What the hell do I even call her?
“My friend. She’s drunk kasi ngayon, can’t remember her unit. Is there a way I can check her name on your list or something? She really needs to rest.”
”No problem ma’am, Just give me a minute.”
“.. Thank you.”
“May I know her full name?”
“Aiah. Aiah Arceta.”
The receptionist typed quickly, then raised an eyebrow. “Mmmkay…. got it. Maraiah Arceta. Unit 0811, 8th floor.”
Mikha exhaled — half relieved, half exhausted. Finally.
Mikha gave a tired smile. “Thank you po. Really, sincerely. With my whole heart.”
She turned around. Aiah was still on the couch… poking the air… ?
“Let’s go, Ma’am,” Mikha called.
Aiah blinked at her. “Where?”
“Your actual condo.”
“Oh. You found it? Congrats!” she said, standing up like she wasn’t the root of this entire scavenger hunt. Mikha rolled her eyes and helped steady her. “Come on. Before I change my mind and leave you in the parking lot.”
-
The elevator ride was testing Mikha’s patience.
Aiah kept hitting all the buttons. “It’s like a spaceship,” she whispered dramatically.
Mikha swatted her hand away. “Okay, Star Lord”
She watched as Aiah leaned against the wall, then—
“I like your jawline.” Aiah said out of nowhere.
“Don’t flirt with me when you’re not normal.” Mikha muttered.
“‘Not flirting. Just observant.”
“Sure.” The elevator dinged open. Aiah waved her hand dramatically in front of the doors, as if she was using force to open them. “See? Star Wars!”
-
0811. The holy ground.
“Ma’am, what are the digits to open your door?”
“Zero..” Mikha enters the number. “Okay…”
“One. Two. Seven.”
Mikha punched in the keypad, using the digits Aiah gave. The door clicked open.
The lights inside were dim, but the place screamed rich-kid na magulo ang buhay vibes. It smelled like vanilla and perfume—like Aiah. Shoes were scattered by the door, and there was a neon sign near the shelf that said, “Bad Decisions Only.”
“Very fitting.” Mikha muttered under her breath. She helped Aiah in, guided her toward the couch—because there was no way she was navigating her to the bedroom.
Ayoko. Bahala siya diyan.
“Sit. Stay. Like a dog,” Mikha said as she helped her down.
“Woof.” Aiah grinned then slumped back into the couch like she was made to live there. “Y’know, for a kidnapper, you’re really sweet.”
“For someone who’s been a pain in the ass all night, you’re surprisingly tolerable.”
“I get that a lot.”
“And if you think about it, ikaw ‘yung kidnapper dto. You brought me here. At your house.”
“Mmm. Sino?”
“Huh? Alin?”
“Nag tanong.”
Mikha looked at her for a second—messy hair, sleepy eyes, cheeks pink from whatever she drank earlier. She looked like a disaster. An adorable one.
“Water?” Mikha offered.
“No, thank you. Ikaw nalang.”
Mikha stared blankly. “I am this close to calling your mom.”
“I live alone.”
“You're right! No one to stop me from smothering you with a chair.”
“Promise?”
“What the hell?” Aiah cackled, then immediately started coughing from laughing too hard.
Mikha handed her a tissue. “Here. Try breathing next time.”
“Noted,” Aiah said, wiping her eyes.
"You’re fun, Mikha Lim. I like you.”
Mikha paused.
Don’t. Don’t do this.
Putanginang attachment issues ‘to.
But then Aiah was already slumping sideways—eyes half-shut, slowly laying on the couch—
“I really, really like you.”
na para bang taping-friends?
“You’re drunk.”
“And drunk words are sober thoughts, right?”
“We met 3 hours ago, in the worst way. Cut the bull.”
“Whatever.” Aiah rolled her eyes before her head gently hitting the armrest, eyes fluttering shut.
She pulled the throw blanket from the couch and gently covered Aiah with it. Tucked it under her chin like a stupid, soft hearted girl with a thing for emotionally unavailable strangers.
“There.” she whispered. “Sleep, ma’am.”
Before heading to the door, she glanced one last time.
Aiah, asleep.
Pretty.
Mikha smiled, shaking her head. “I am never picking up passengers again.”
-
Mikha stepped out of the condo unit with a sigh of relief, finally alone in the hallway.
WAR. IS. OVER.
The moment she slid into the driver’s seat of her car, she slumped forward, forehead on the steering wheel. What the hell just happened? She replayed the night in her head—when she fetched her, the rants, the subtle-flirting, the arguing, the “I really, really like you.” Her chest felt tight. Her head was pounding. Her dignity was elsewhere, probably back on the 27th floor they accidentally visited.
Still, she smiled a little.
God. This is ridiculous.
The engine purred to life. Mikha leaned back, finally ready to go home and maybe cry into her pillow.
But then, her eyes widened. She slowly, slowly turned to the empty passenger seat.
Her hand gripped the steering wheel tighter, voice came out in a whisper.
“Wait a minute."
....
“TANGINA. HINDI AKO BINAYARAN ?!”