Chapter Text
12:47 AM
Mikha had been staring at the blinking cursor on her screen for the past thirty minutes, her fingers frozen over the keyboard. The laptop’s faint hum was the only sound in the room, aside from her own frustrated sighs.
It had been a month since she last updated, yet not a single idea came to mind.
Maybe I just needed more time. It’s not like anyone was actually reading my story anyway, Mikha thought, trying to convince herself it didn’t matter.
She leaned back in her chair, rubbing her temples.
'What am I even doing? I keep making things harder for myself. Maybe I shouldn’t have started this at all, knowing I might never finish it anyway.'
She groaned, shutting my eyes. She could feel the weight of her exhaustion creeping in, but just as she was about to doze off—
Ding.
The sudden chime jolted her awake. She blinked a few times, her blurry vision adjusting to the bright screen.
A notification.
1 new comment from badingka.
She frowned at the username, inwardly cringing at how corny it sounded, her fingers hovering over the screen as hesitation crept in—unsure whether replying was worth the risk of the person behind it being a weirdo.
Pushing those thoughts aside, she let her curiosity get the better of her, and I clicked.
"Hi, I know it's been a while, pero maghihintay for your next update :)."
Mikha read it twice, just to make sure she wasn’t imagining things. Was someone actually waiting for her update?
A small sense of excitement and disbelief rippled through her chest. She hesitated, hovering over the keyboard. She wasn’t used to getting comments, much less one this… patient.
Most readers either forgot about unfinished fics or left passive-aggressive reminders. But this? It was just a simple, encouraging message.
Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to reply.
Me: Salamat. Akala ko wala nang nagbabasa.
A response came almost instantly.
Badingka: Grabe ka, siyempre meron! Ang ganda kaya ng story mo. Ang tagal ko nang gustong mag-message, pero nahihiya ako. Hehe.
She lets out a soft laugh. Ironic. They both second-guessed before sending their message.
Me: Haha, bakit ka naman mahihiya?
Badingka: Eh kasi baka isipin mong annoying ako. Pero nung nakita kong di ka na nag-u-update, naisip ko baka kailangan mo lang marinig na may naghihintay pa rin.
At some point, Mikha glanced at the time and realized how late it was. But for once, she didn’t mind, something warm settling in her chest. She hadn’t realized how much she needed to hear that.
Me: Hala, ang thoughtful naman. Pero grabe, hindi ko inexpect na may naghihintay pa.
badingka: Ano ka ba, syempre meron! Ang tagal mo na kayang nang-iwan sa ere!
Me: HAHA, sorry na!
badingka: Kaya nga na-curious ako, tinamad ka na ba or busy lang?
Me: Medyo both. Ang dami lang nangyari, tapos parang… ewan, na-stuck lang ata ako.
Badingka: Ah, gets. Pero sayang naman, ang dami pa namang gustong malaman kung anong mangyayari.
The conversation stretched on far longer than Mikha expected. What started as a simple reply turned into a full-blown exchange that lasted the entire night. It was easy—light, like talking to an old friend, even though we’d never really spoken before.
They jumped from one topic to another effortlessly, from writing struggles to random life updates. There were no awkward pauses, no pressure to say something profound—just a natural flow of words, like they were both making up for lost time. It felt freeing, in a way, to talk to someone without overthinking every response, without feeling like I had to hold back.
Maybe this wasn’t just some random reader.
Maybe, just maybe, this was the push Mikha needed.
___________________________________________________
Mikha!"
The sound of her name yanked her back to reality.
She blinked, the glow of her laptop screen replaced by the bright LED panels of their office. Gwen was standing beside Mikha's desk, arms crossed, one eyebrow raised.
"You're daydreaming agian."
Mikha sighed, stretching her arms. "Hindi ah. Ano yun?"
"Yung site visit natin sa Legazpi. Na-finalize na ni engineer yung schedule. We leave next week for the pre-construction assessment."
The moment the word Legazpi left Gwen's mouth, Mikha's stomach twisted.
She forced herself to keep her expression neutral, but her grip on the edge of her desk tightened.
"Ganun ba? How long will we be staying there?"
"At least a month," Gwen said, sliding a printed f plan onto Mikha's desk. "Initial site survey pa lang 'to, pero we need to verify kung may discrepancies between the topographic survey data at yung actual site conditions. May existing structures pa kasi sa lot na kailangan i-demolish before excavation."
Mikha nodded, pretending to focus on the drawings, but her mind had already begun to spiral.
Legazpi.
Six years.
It had been six years since she last saw Aiah. Six years since the last time Mikha felt the warmth of her presence.
Back then, they tried to believe that love could endure the distance—that trust and patience would be enough to hold them together. But love alone was never the problem. In the end, it was time. And time was exactly what we never really had.
The few days together every couple of months never seemed enough.
The unanswered messages, the late replies, the missed video calls—it all built up, little cracks that they ignored until they shattered into something they couldn’t fix.
And now, Mikha was going back.
Back to the place she once called home. Back to the streets she used to walk, the cafés she used to love, the life Aiah continued living long after Mikha stopped being part of it.
She swallowed hard, pushing the thoughts back.
"So kailangan muna natin mag-coordinate with the structural engineers for the soil bearing test results before we can start revising the foundation plans," Gwen continued.
"Right," Mikha muttered, flipping through the blueprints even though the words barely registered.
"Also, I was informed by engineer Jimenea that there might be adjustments to the setbacks because of the local zoning regulations. We can't have any issues with the permit application, 'di na tayo pwede ma delay."
Mikha nodded again, forcing her mind back to work.
A month in Bicol. A month of pretending the place didn’t still hold pieces of her she had tried so hard to leave behind.
"Okay. I’ll start reviewing the plans," she said, her voice steadier than how she actually felt.
Gwen nodded. "Sige. At least may time pa tayo mag-prepare bago tayo umalis."
As she walked away, Mikha let out a slow breath.
She had always known this day would come. She just hadn’t expected it to be so soon.
So, for the rest of the day, Mikha made herself busy. She buried herself in the project, double-checking timelines, refining presentations, and drafting reports. Every task became an anchor, something to keep her hands busy and her thoughts from straying. If she focused hard enough on the details, on every number, every slide, every email—maybe she could silence the unease creeping in at the edges of her mind.
A few hours later, Mikha slowly gets up as she shuts her laptop, the screen dimming to black as she gathers her things. The office was quiet now, most of her coworkers already gone for the night. Gwen had left an hour ago, but not before reminding her again that their flight to Bicol was next week.
She exhaled, rolling her shoulders as if trying to physically dispel her unease. After a brief pause, she reached for her keys, the metallic jingle breaking the stillness around her as she stood and headed toward the parking lot.
The night air greeted her with a soft coolness, wrapping around her as she walked to her car. Once inside, the door shut with a muted thud, sealing her in a small pocket of solitude.
The drive home was uneventful, almost soothing in its familiarity. The steady hum of the engine filled the quiet, blending with the distant rush of passing vehicles as city lights stretched into soft streaks beyond her window. Cebu at night was still awake—jeepneys trundling along their routes, convenience stores glowing on street corners, conversations spilling faintly from late-night eateries—but there was an undeniable calm woven through it all, a gentleness that daylight never seemed to offer. For the first time that evening, Mikha allowed herself to simply exist within it, letting the rhythm of the road carry her forward.
She wondered if Legazpi would feel the same.
It had been years since she last set foot there, stepping off the plane with her heart in her throat, nervous and excited to finally see Aiah in person after months of late-night calls, messy messages, and pixelated video chats.
Years since she last walked those streets hand in hand with someone she thought she would have more time with.
Now, she was going back, but not as the same person who once counted down the days to be there, but as a stranger.
She pulled into a parking space outside a 7-Eleven, shaking the thoughts from her head. She needed to get cat food for her cat, Walter.
The fluorescent lights buzzed faintly overhead as she pushed the door open, the cool air inside brushing against her skin in sharp contrast to the warmth outside. The familiar scent of instant noodles, coffee, and something sweet lingered in the small space, wrapping around her as she wandered down the aisle with quiet familiarity.
She reached for the familiar can she knew Walter loved, fingers closing around the cool metal that rested in her palm as she turned and walked toward the counter, her pace steady, unchanging.
The soft hum of refrigerators and the rhythmic rustle of plastic bags blended into the background noise as she waited for the cashier to scan her item. With nothing else demanding her attention, her gaze drifted to the side, landing on two teenagers standing nearby. Their quiet laughter and animated whispers stood in stark contrast to her own stillness, drawing her eyes even as she remained motionless, patiently waiting for the familiar beep of the scanner.
A boy and a girl, both fidgeting slightly as the cashier handed them each a cup of ice cream.
Their fingers brushed as they accepted them, a fleeting touch that neither seemed to expect. The girl looked down, a small, nervous smile playing on her lips. The boy hesitated, then smiled back, a little uncertain, but just as warm.
Mikha found herself watching them longer than she meant to.
That kind of newness, that quiet, delicate beginning—it had been so long since she’d felt that.
Once, she and Aiah had been like that, too.
Standing at a counter, awkward and unsure, the air between them charged with the same nervous excitement.
She remembered the first time they met in person, the moment still fresh in her mind despite the years.
Mikha had just landed in Legazpi, fresh off the plane, heart pounding as she scanned the small arrival area. Then, there she was—Aiah, standing near the exit, a warm smile gracing her face, while she held out her arms to take some of Mikha's belongings. When she hands Aiah her bag, their fingers brush for the first time outside of a phone screen. The touch was barely there, but it sent fireworks through her system.
The beep of the scanner pulled her back.
"Miss, cash or card?" the cashier asked.
"Ah, cash," she said, a faint blush creeping across her cheeks. She patted her pockets hurriedly, the movement almost frantic, before finally finding her wallet. With a quick motion, she pulled it open and retrieved a 500-peso bill, holding it out with a mix of relief and embarrassment.
She left the store without another glance at the teenagers, gripping the plastic bag a little tighter as if it could anchor her to the present. Stepping back into the night, the air felt heavier somehow, thick with memories she hadn’t expected to resurface. The weight of her memories pressing in.
By the time Mikha reached her condo, the place was quiet, bathed only in the soft glow of the city lights outside. She stepped inside, and almost immediately, soft paws padded against her legs. Walter, as always, was there, weaving around her feet with warmth and familiarity, grounding her in the dimly lit room.
"Hey, Walter," she murmured, setting her things down by the drawer and crouching to pet him.
Walter purred, rubbing his head against her palm. The sound filled the eerie silence of her apartment—the only real welcome she got coming home.
It wasn’t just quiet. It was empty. Lifeless.
She swallowed hard. The silence was a reminder, one she never asked for.
Back then, this space had been filled with echoes of laughter from late-night calls, the occasional voice note playing from her speakers, the warmth of knowing that someone, somewhere, was waiting to talk to her.
Aiah had a way of making even the distance feel less lonely.
But now? Now, there was nothing.
Mikha sighed, running a hand down Walter’s back.
"Namiss mo ba yung isa mong mommy?" she asked softly. "Kasi minsan feeling ko hindi mo siya hinanap, eh. Samantalang ako..."
Her voice faltered.
"Sabagay, sinong tanga ang hindi pa rin maka-move on sa ex nila kahit after six years? Ang tanga ko lang talaga siguro."
Walter blinked up at her, completely unaware of the ache curling in her chest.
"Ewan ko sayo, ang bilis mo mag-adjust," she muttered, scooping him up and standing. Walter let out a tiny meow, settling against her shoulder as she carried him to the kitchen.
Maybe Walter had moved on. Maybe, in some way, he had forgotten.
Mikha wished she could say the same.