Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Cebu is peace. Or at least, that’s what Aiah tells herself as she stretches her legs out on the barstool, mojito in hand, the neon glow painting lazy colors across the countertop. The air buzzes with conversation, but it isn’t Manila’s kind of buzz—the kind that carries ghosts of failed dates and exes lurking in every coffee shop.

Here, she can breathe.

Aiah: Finally back home where I belong. No more messy dating history to dodge. No more running into your exes every time I leave the house. Cebu is peace.

The group chat lights up.

Sheena: You say that like you haven’t been living off OUR dating horror stories.

Maloi: You don’t even have an ex to run into.

Jhoanna: Tbh, that’s a blessing.

Aiah smirks into her drink. Okay, fair. She has watched the three of them crash and burn with one particular heartbreaker. Which is exactly why she has sworn off romance. Especially not with—

She blinks, freezes.

Because at that exact moment, the universe decides to test her resolve.

Mikha Lim.

She walks into the bar like she owns it—effortless confidence, a presence you can’t ignore even if you try. Conversations dip for a second, then resume, but Aiah’s pulse stays high and obvious, like it wants its own attention.

Aiah’s thumb flies across the screen.

Aiah: GUYS. EX NG BUONG BAYAN SPOTTED. REPEAT. EX NG BUONG BAYAN IS IN CEBU.

She keeps staring at her phone, like if she doesn’t look up, reality can’t catch her. It does anyway.

A shadow falls across the bar.

“Hey, you again,” says the guy from earlier, sliding into the seat beside her with a grin that’s just a little too practiced.

Aiah tenses. They bumped into each other at the counter, traded a few polite words. Apparently, too polite.

“I’m starting to think you’re avoiding me,” he jokes, leaning in just enough to make her skin prickle.

Aiah forces a smile. “Ah, no—just waiting for someone.”

He either doesn’t hear the hint or chooses not to. “What a shame. I was hoping we could keep talking.”

She lets out a strained laugh. “Haha, that’s a bit fast, isn’t it?”

“Sometimes you have to move fast so no one gets ahead of you.” He smirks, pleased with himself.

Her stomach twists. She doesn’t want to be rude, but she also doesn’t want this. She glances at her phone, debating whether to fake an emergency—

“Hey, babe. Sorry I’m late.”

Her body goes still.

That voice. Ridiculously smooth, confident. Before she can turn, an arm drapes over her shoulders—warm, casual, like it belongs there.

Aiah whips her head around. Mikha Lim. Up close. Smiling like she’s done this a thousand times before.

The guy’s grin falters. “Oh, you’re with—”

“She’s with me,” Mikha cuts in, tone light but firm, no room for argument. Then, as if to seal it, she tilts her head toward Aiah with a teasing smirk. “Right, babe?”

Aiah’s brain shorts out.

Her senses scramble—her shoulder under Mikha’s arm, the faint trace of perfume that smells expensive and sharp, the kind of scent that clings. She hates that her chest squeezes at the familiarity of it, like her body recognizes something her mind refuses to name.

But the guy is still watching. This is survival.

Aiah clears her throat. “Uh. Yeah. Babe.”

Mikha’s grin widens, infuriatingly pleased. “Did you wait too long?” Her fingers brush a strand of Aiah’s hair back behind her ear, casual—like she has every right to touch her.

Aiah almost chokes. What the hell.

The guy lifts his hands, already backing off. “Ah, sorry, I didn’t know—”

“It’s okay,” Mikha says easily, flashing that disarming smile. “Just leave her alone, yeah?”

He nods quickly, mumbles an apology, retreats.

Aiah exhales. Finally.

And then remembers who just saved her.

Mikha lingers, standing a little too close, eyes bright with amusement. “You okay, babe?” she teases, voice dipping lower, softer, like she’s enjoying every second of this.

Aiah shoves her shoulder away. “What the hell was that?!”

Mikha laughs, hands raised. “Relax. I’m helping. You looked helpless.”

“Why?”

“Hmm.” Mikha taps her chin, pretending to think. “Maybe I have a hero complex.”

Aiah scoffs. “More like a drama complex.”

“Grumpy,” Mikha says, unbothered. “Aren’t you supposed to thank me?”

Aiah rolls her eyes, takes a long sip of her drink. “Thanks.”

“Wow. That sounded sincere.”

“It was,” Aiah deadpans.

Mikha leans in, elbows on the bar, studying her with a smirk that feels a little too knowing. “Well, you still owe me one.”

Aiah lowers her glass slowly. “Excuse me?”

“You owe me,” Mikha repeats, maddeningly self-satisfied. “I help you out, you don’t get to complain.”

“I don’t ask for your help.”

“But you accept it, babe.”

Aiah groans, forehead landing on the bar. She knows she’s trapped, and worse—Mikha knows it, too.

“Sorry,” Mikha adds lightly. “Did I forget to mention my help isn’t free? Consider it an open tab.”

“Like a loan from a Bumbay?” Aiah mutters.

“Worse.” Mikha winks. “A loan from me.”

And just like that, she straightens, saunters away like she hasn’t detonated Aiah’s peaceful night.

Aiah stares at the empty space Mikha leaves behind, then drags in a breath she hopes looks casual. It probably doesn’t. She yanks her phone back up and starts typing.

Aiah: GUYS. KILL ME.

The replies are instant.

Jhoanna: What now?

Maloi: Not even 24 hours in Cebu and you’ve already got drama?

Aiah: MIKHA LIM JUST PULLED A “HEY BABE” ON ME. HELP.

The chat explodes.

Stacey: HUH????

Jhoanna: WAIT WHAT.

Maloi: Oh my god HAHAHAHAHAHA

Sheena: Holy crap. Did you faint?

Aiah: Almost. But worse—I OWE HER ONE.

Another burst of chaos.

Stacey: AIAH NOOOOOOOO

Maloi: PRAYERS UP FOR YOU, SIS.

Jhoanna: May the Lord bless and keep you safe.

Aiah drops her phone onto the counter and buries her face in her hands. The laughter around her blurs into static.

She walks straight into a trap.

And if Mikha Lim is in Cebu, then so is trouble.

The kind that doesn’t leave quietly.

Chapter Text

Aiah should know by now that Mikha Lim isn’t the type to let things go.

It’s only been two days since the bar incident, and already Mikha has found a way to collect on Aiah’s so-called “debt.”

And of course, she does it in the most infuriating way possible.

Aiah stares at her phone in disbelief, rereading the Instagram message that just came in.

Mikha Lim: Good morning, babe. ☺️ Hope you’re ready to pay up.

Aiah grits her teeth. Two days. Two.

Aiah: What do you want?

Mikha Lim: Wow, so cold. You didn’t sound that way when you loved me last time.

Aiah: I DIDN’T LOVE YOU.

Mikha Lim: Denial is the first stage, babe.

Aiah groans, resisting the urge to hurl her phone at the wall. How is she like this?

Before she can type back something that qualifies as a death threat, another message arrives.

Mikha Lim: See you at Café Sol in 30 minutes. You’re treating me to coffee. ☕️

Aiah: Who said I agreed to that?!

Mikha Lim: You owe me one. 😘

Aiah is going to lose her mind.

She arrives at Café Sol fully prepared to curse Mikha out.

She spots her instantly—because of course Mikha has taken the best seat in the café, the one by the window where the morning light hits just right. Her coffee steams in one hand, her other scrolling lazily on her phone like the world owes her its attention.

Aiah takes a breath. Stay calm. Just get this over with.

Mikha looks up as Aiah approaches, her lips curling into a smirk. “Wow, you actually came. I thought you’d pretend to be asleep.”

“Trust me, I thought about it,” Aiah mutters, dropping into the seat across from her.

Mikha chuckles, leaning back with that amused, knowing look that makes Aiah’s pulse quicken with irritation.

“So,” Aiah says, folding her arms. “What do you want? Hurry up so I can leave.”

Mikha tilts her head, pretending to think. “Hmm. At first, I was just going to make you buy me coffee.”

Aiah narrows her eyes. “At first?”

Mikha sets her cup down, grin widening. “But then I thought—it’d be such a waste if you only had to pay something that small.”

Aiah’s stomach drops. “Mikha…”

Mikha leans forward, voice lowering, suddenly serious in a way that makes Aiah’s breath catch. “I need you to be my girlfriend.”

Aiah blinks. Once. Twice. “What?!”

“Fake girlfriend,” Mikha clarifies, casual again, stirring her coffee. “Just for one night. Relax.”

Aiah stares. “Fake girlfriend? What the hell are you talking about?”

“My high school reunion is this weekend.” Mikha’s eyes glint, but her smile doesn’t quite reach them. “And guess who’s attending?”

Aiah waits, unsettled by the way Mikha avoids her gaze for half a beat before continuing.

“My first love,” Mikha says. She tries to shrug it off, but her fingers tighten against the mug. “And her fiancé.”

Aiah’s jaw drops. “You are so petty.”

Mikha’s grin returns, almost too quickly. “Exactly. So, it’s all up to you, babe.”

Aiah laughs, sharp and disbelieving. “No. Absolutely not.”

Unbothered, Mikha takes another sip of coffee. “You didn’t even let me explain.”

“There’s nothing to explain,” Aiah fires back. “The answer is no.”

Mikha sighs, setting her cup down with deliberate care. “Aiah. Babe—”

“Don’t you dare call me that!”

“Look, it’s just one night,” Mikha says, leaning in. “You show up, pretend we’re madly in love, then go home. Easy.”

Aiah crosses her arms tighter. “I don’t even know you, and you want me to fake a relationship?”

Mikha raises a brow. “Please. You know of me.”

“Yeah, and everything I know screams red flag,” Aiah snaps. “Hard pass.”

Mikha clutches her chest dramatically. “Ouch. Brutal. But fair. So tell me, what exactly is your issue?”

“You!” Aiah bursts out. She throws her hands up. “You’re the issue! I don’t want drama, I don’t want trouble, and this—” she gestures wildly “—this is both, gift-wrapped.”

Mikha hums, like she’s honestly weighing Aiah’s words. Then she rests her chin on her hand, eyes twinkling. “Okay, fair. But what if I can make you say yes?”

Aiah narrows her eyes. “And how exactly do you plan to do that?”

Mikha smirks. “Hmm. Maybe I’ll remind that guy from the bar about how friendly you were with him.”

Aiah’s blood goes cold. “You wouldn’t.”

“Wouldn’t I?” Mikha’s smirk turns sly, but there’s something tight in her gaze—a dare, a cover for something she won’t admit.

“You’re unbelievable,” Aiah mutters.

“Aww, babe,” Mikha says with a wink. “Now you’re getting to know me.”

Aiah groans, dropping her forehead onto the table. She shuts her eyes tight, willing the universe to let her escape into a parallel dimension. No such luck.

She lifts her head just enough to glare at Mikha. “Fine. One night. One.”

Mikha beams, disgustingly pleased. “That’s my girl.”

Aiah gags. “Don’t say that.”

Mikha only laughs, sipping her coffee. “Relax. This will be fun.”

“Fun for who?” Aiah mutters.

“For me, mostly,” Mikha admits easily. “But who knows? You might surprise yourself.”

Aiah seriously doubts that.

She drags a hand down her face, already regretting everything. “What exactly am I supposed to do?”

Mikha tilts her head, all faux-innocence. “We have to sell it, of course. Which means…” She gives Aiah a slow, deliberate smile. “You’ll have to act like you’re completely in love with me.”

Aiah chokes. “Excuse me?!”

“Come on,” Mikha says. “Couple photos. Holding hands. Maybe a little PDA.”

Aiah feels her pulse spike. “Mikha, I swear, I will make you my punching bag—”

Mikha laughs. “Relax. I won’t get you into trouble. It’s me.”

“That’s exactly why I’m worried,” Aiah mutters.

Mikha ignores her, pulling out her phone. A second later, Aiah’s phone buzzes.

She frowns. “What’s this?”

“Couple duties start now,” Mikha says, smirking. “I just sent you my number. Save it, babe.”

Aiah groans, pressing her palms to her eyes. She is so, so screwed.

Chapter Text

“Aiah, what on earth are you wearing?”

Aiah scowls at her phone screen, where Jhoanna, Maloi, Stacey, and Sheena crowd a group video call, watching her with the kind of judgment usually reserved for courtroom juries. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

Maloi squints. “It’s like… you’re going to a court hearing instead of a high school reunion.”

Aiah glances down at her crisp white button-up and black slacks. “…Do I really look like a lawyer?”

“Attorney Aiah, defending her client against Mikha Lim’s sins,” Stacey deadpans.

Jhoanna snorts. “Babe, you’re supposed to be her girlfriend, not her legal counsel.”

Aiah groans and flops onto her bed, muffling herself into the pillow. “Then what am I even supposed to wear?! Why should I bother adjusting for her?”

Sheena raises a finger. “Technically, you’re already adjusting. Since you’re going.”

Aiah grabs the pillow and screams into it.

When she sits up again, she narrows her eyes at the screen. “Speaking of. Why is no one mad at Mikha? Three of you dated her, and yet you’re all acting like it’s nothing?”

The girls exchange glances.

Jhoanna shrugs. “Because it really was nothing.”

“She wasn’t a bad partner,” Stacey adds.

Maloi nods. “She treated me well, honestly. There just wasn’t any spark.”

Aiah blinks. “So… she didn’t ghost? Or cheat?”

Jhoanna shakes her head. “Nope. She was upfront. No false promises. She was just… Mikha.”

Aiah throws her arms up. “So what you’re telling me is, I’m the only one here with an actual issue with her?”

Sheena grins. “Well… you’re the only one who seems really affected.”

Aiah gasps. “Excuse me?”

Maloi smirks. “I mean, you’re the one getting all worked up every time her name comes up. Wonder why that is.”

“Obviously because she dated all three of you!” Aiah snaps.

Stacey sighs dramatically. “You know, if you really want to sell this fake girlfriend thing, you should dress like her girlfriend.”

Maloi leans in. “Exactly. Give Mikha a moment. The kind where you walk in, she freezes, and everything’s in slow motion, and—”

“This is not some sappy movie,” Aiah cuts in, sitting up straighter.

Jhoanna hums. “But Maloi has a point. You should at least look the part.”

Sheena nods. “Just… please, not lawyer chic.”

Aiah sighs and drags herself to her closet. “Fine. But don’t expect any grand entrance.”

Maloi smirks. “Aiah, with Mikha Lim by your side? Whatever you do, it’s going to be a moment.”

Aiah rolls her eyes but starts rummaging anyway. She wants something decent—presentable—but not like she’s trying.

Her hand brushes against something soft at the back of the wardrobe. She pulls it out and holds it up against herself.

A sleek, white two-piece ensemble.

She hasn’t worn it in years. The cropped, fitted top with delicate straps leaves just enough skin exposed to be elegant without overdoing it. The high-waisted skirt hugs her curves before flowing down, a silver embellishment at the waist catching the light. It radiates quiet confidence—sophisticated, flattering, maybe even… stunning.

She turns back to the camera, holding it up. “Too much?”

Jhoanna’s eyes widen. “Oh.”

Stacey lets out a low whistle. “Sis… even I would fake-date you.”

Sheena claps her hands. “Yes. Approved.”

Aiah hesitates. “It feels a little too… fitting.”

“Exactly,” Maloi says, grinning. “It suits you.”

“Maybe it’s too revealing,” Aiah mutters. “I don’t want to give Mikha the satisfaction.”

Stacey smirks. “Babe, the best way to keep her from enjoying it is to make her suffer.”

Jhoanna nods eagerly. “You want to tease her? Make it hard for her.”

Sheena leans closer. “Make her regret ever asking you to fake-date her.”

Maloi chimes in. “Look so good she forgets it’s fake.”

Aiah stares at them, their words sinking in.

Slowly, a smirk spreads across her face.

“I like the way you think.”

She turns to the mirror, outfit in hand, and studies her reflection.

Tonight, Mikha Lim isn’t going to win.

Chapter Text

Aiah takes a deep breath, smoothing her hands over the fabric of her dress as she stares at her reflection. This is fine. Everything is fine.

Her phone vibrates.

Mikha: I’m outside.

Aiah exhales slowly. Here we go.

She grabs her purse and steps out the front door.

And there she is.

Mikha leans against a sleek red car, scrolling casually through her phone like she’s posing for a magazine shoot. The all-white power suit—high-waisted trousers, a tube top, a tailored blazer with gold buttons—looks infuriatingly good on her. The city lights only make the picture worse, gilding her in glow.

Aiah feels an unwelcome flutter in her chest. Of course she looks like that.

Mikha looks up—and freezes.

For a beat, she just stares.

Aiah raises a brow. “What?”

Mikha blinks, lets out a quiet breath. “Damn.”

Aiah resists the smirk tugging at her lips. Instead, she shrugs. “Did you think I didn’t know how to clean up?”

Mikha recovers with a grin, but it wavers at the edges. “It’s just… the first time I’ve seen you like this.” Her gaze lingers too long. “Are you trying to make me suffer?”

Arms crossed, Aiah shoots back, “You’re the one who asked me to be your fake girlfriend. This is part of the package.”

Mikha exhales through her nose, still looking at her. “I was ready for you to play the part. I wasn’t ready for you to look like that.”

Heat creeps up Aiah’s neck. “Whatever. Let’s go before I change my mind.”

Mikha smirks, opening the car door for her. “Too late, babe. You owe me one, remember?”

The car hums to life. Silence stretches for ten seconds.

Then Mikha, naturally, breaks it.

“So…” she drawls, one hand on the wheel, the other propping her chin. “Where did you learn to make people suffer?”

Aiah glares. “Excuse me?”

Mikha gestures at her vaguely. “This. The dress. The confidence. That whole ‘I woke up stunning’ vibe.”

Aiah scoffs. “Why? Are you the only one allowed to look good?”

“Not at all,” Mikha muses. “But if I’d known my fake girlfriend would look this gorgeous, I would’ve brought an oxygen tank.”

Aiah rolls her eyes, but her ears betray her with heat. “You’re so dramatic.”

“I’m not. I’m being honest.” Mikha sneaks a glance at her with a smirk that lingers too long before darting back to the road. “Is that so wrong?”

Aiah exhales sharply through her nose. “You really don’t have an off button, do you?”

“Hmm. Maybe.” Mikha taps her chin, thoughtful. “But if you kiss me, I might quiet down.”

Aiah whips her head around. “What?!”

Mikha bursts out laughing. “Relax, babe. Just kidding.”

“Don’t you ‘babe’ me,” Aiah mutters, crossing her arms.

“But you said yourself, it’s part of the package,” Mikha reminds her, voice sing-song with amusement.

Aiah groans, turning toward the window. “This was a mistake.”

Mikha chuckles. “Not so easy to sweet-talk you, huh?”

“Not when it’s coming from you.”

Mikha clutches her chest dramatically. “Wow. No faith at all in my sincerity?”

Aiah gives her a flat look. “Mikha Lim, ex of half this city, asking about sincerity?”

Mikha laughs again, but her voice is softer. “You’re really something, Aiah Arceta.”

The words hang heavier than a joke should.

Aiah swallows, looks away, pretending the city lights are more interesting than the way her pulse jumps.

For once, Mikha lets the silence last.

Then, quieter: “But seriously—you do look beautiful tonight.”

Aiah bites the inside of her cheek, refusing to react.

Mikha smiles to herself and keeps driving.

The reunion venue is predictably grand: chandeliers glitter overhead, floor-to-ceiling windows spill out onto the city skyline. Aiah feels the weight of wealth and history press down on her as the valet opens her door.

Beside her, Mikha stretches, then hooks an arm around Aiah’s waist with effortless ease. “Ready, babe?”

Aiah shoots her a glare. “If you keep calling me that—”

“Too late,” Mikha interrupts, steering them forward. “We’re in character now.”

Aiah barely processes the lavish scene before a voice calls out:

“Well, well, well. Look who finally decided to show up.”

Two women approach, striking in their presence.

The taller one with sharp, steady poise crosses her arms. “Fashionably late as usual, Mikha Lim?”

The shorter one with mischievous eyes sighs theatrically. “And with a date, no less. Who is she, and why haven’t we been introduced?”

Mikha grins. “Colet, Gwen—play nice.” She pulls Aiah closer, hand firm on her waist. “This is Aiah Arceta. My girlfriend for the night.”

Colet arches a brow. “‘For the night’? Interesting choice of words.”

Gwen studies Aiah, gaze sharp but curious. “Wait… you’re not just some random girl, are you? You actually know Mikha.”

Aiah forces a smile. “You could say that.”

Mikha laughs lightly. “Oh, she knows me very well.”

Aiah stomps on her foot. Mikha winces, but keeps grinning.

Colet chuckles. “I like her.”

Aiah stiffens, unsure if that’s a compliment or a threat.

The two exchange a look before bursting into laughter.

“Honestly, we should’ve seen this coming,” Gwen says, shaking her head.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Aiah mutters.

“Don’t worry, babe,” Mikha whispers against her ear, low enough for only her to hear. “They’re harmless.”

Aiah’s skin prickles. She hates that it doesn’t feel harmless at all.

And then—

“Mikha Lim.”

The air shifts.

Aiah doesn’t need to look to know. Mikha’s posture stiffens for a fraction of a second—barely there, but Aiah feels it in the press of her hand.

Bea.

The woman’s presence commands the ballroom: elegant in midnight blue, poised as though she was born to own every space she steps into. Beside her, Miguel—tall, polished—holds her hand, gaze flicking once at Mikha before settling politely on Aiah.

“Mikha,” Bea repeats, voice smooth but edged. “It’s been a while.”

Mikha’s smirk is steady, but her grip on Aiah tightens. “Bea. You look… the same.”

Bea tilts her head, eyes cool. “And you still know how to make an entrance.” Her gaze slides to Aiah, assessing. “And you are?”

Mikha answers before Aiah can speak. “My girlfriend. Aiah Arceta.”

Bea’s brows lift slightly, something flickering—surprise, curiosity, maybe disdain. “Girlfriend? And how long has this been going on?”

Aiah panics. Crap. They never agreed on a story.

“Six months,” Mikha says smoothly, without missing a beat.

Aiah blinks, fighting to keep her expression neutral.

Bea hums, unimpressed. “Six months? That’s… surprising.”

Mikha tilts her head. “Why?”

Bea’s smile is small, cutting. “No offense, but I never thought you were the relationship type.”

The words hang in the air like a blade.

Mikha doesn’t flinch, but her thumb brushes against Aiah’s side—a grounding gesture, subtle but telling. “People change.”

Bea hums again, unconvinced, before Miguel gently steers her away. “It was nice to meet you, Aiah,” she says politely, though her gaze lingers a beat too long. Then she’s gone, arm in arm with Miguel, looking every inch a magazine spread.

The second they’re out of earshot, Aiah exhales. “Well, that was—”

Mikha suddenly tugs her aside, pulling her into the corner.

Aiah blinks. “Mikha—”

“See?” Mikha murmurs, quieter now. The smirk is gone, replaced with something taut but not about Bea—about the eyes still on them. “That’s exactly why I needed backup. If you weren’t here, I’d look like an idiot.”

Aiah’s breath catches at the shift. Vulnerable, yes—but her eyes are on her.

Before Aiah can respond, Gwen’s voice cuts in.

“Well, well, well. Five minutes in and you’re already causing a scene.”

They look up to see Gwen, arms crossed, with Colet grinning beside her.

“We figured you two needed a moment,” Gwen says smoothly. “Clearly, that was a mistake.”

Colet snickers. “Messy already. I love it.”

Chapter Text

Aiah barely has time to get used to the weight of Mikha’s arm around her before a trio of former classmates approaches, all of them clearly more interested in Mikha than anything else.

“Mikha Lim,” one of them sighs dramatically, an elegantly dressed woman with perfectly curled hair. “Still as extra as ever.”

Mikha grins. “What can I say? I like making an entrance.”

The woman turns to Aiah, eyes scanning her curiously before smiling. “And you must be…?”

Aiah opens her mouth, still debating how much to lean into the role. But Mikha’s hand tightens ever so slightly at her waist, a silent nudge.

“This is Aiah,” Mikha says smoothly. “My girlfriend.”

Brows shoot up. “Girlfriend?”

Aiah feels the weight of their stares. She forces a smile. “Yep.”

A pause. Then laughter.

“Well,” another classmate chimes in, “I guess the great Mikha Lim can settle down.”

Mikha smirks. “Who said anything about settling?”

Aiah elbows her discreetly, but Mikha only chuckles, like she enjoys the sting.

The conversation turns into nostalgia: stories, inside jokes, and subtle jabs Mikha parries without effort. She is magnetic in this environment, charming and sharp all at once, laughing off accusations of heartbreak like they roll off her skin.

It’s infuriating.

Aiah feels like a fish out of water—no shared history, no context. She hovers on the edge, trying to decide when to smile, when to nod, when to play the role.

Finally, she takes a risk.

Sliding her hand over Mikha’s arm, she leans in sweetly. “Oh, she’s different now,” Aiah says, her voice syrupy. “She’s actually super thoughtful. Romantic, even.”

Mikha freezes for half a second, just long enough for Aiah to know she’s landed a hit.

Then Mikha turns to her with a look that nearly knocks the breath from her chest—soft, adoring, dangerously convincing. “Only for you, babe.”

Aiah’s throat closes. She barely manages to smile as their audience coos.

But she doesn’t stop. Later, when someone teases Mikha about still being a flirt, Aiah slides her hand higher up Mikha’s arm and tilts her head with mock patience. “She’s not a flirt. She’s just misunderstood.”

Mikha stares at her, startled, and then laughs—the sound warm, unguarded. For once, it doesn’t feel like a performance.

She leans down, whispering against Aiah’s ear. “Careful. You’re playing with fire.”

Aiah smiles sweetly, eyes glittering. “You started it.”

Mikha chuckles under her breath, but her hand presses at her waist, firmer now, like she doesn’t want to let go.

“Enjoying the night?”

The new voice cuts through the chatter.

Aiah turns—and of course, it’s Bea. Miguel stands beside her, hand in hers, every inch the polished fiancé.

Mikha barely tenses, but Aiah feels it in the fingers curling tighter against her side.

Mikha smirks. “More than I expected to.”

Bea’s gaze flickers to Aiah, then back to Mikha. “That’s good.”

Miguel offers a polite smile. “You look good, Mikha.”

“I always do.”

Aiah has to bite her lip to keep from laughing. Of course she says that.

Bea smiles, cool and sharp. “It’s nice to see you happy.”

Mikha tilts her head. “You too.”

The words sound smooth, but Aiah catches it—Mikha’s thumb brushing at her waist, grounding herself, her gaze flicking toward Aiah as though to anchor the line.

Aiah realizes with a small jolt: this isn’t about Bea. It’s about making sure she’s convincing with her.

“Talking about Mikha’s love life already?”

Gwen and Colet slip into the circle like it’s nothing, Gwen composed as ever, Colet grinning like she’s thrilled to stir the pot.

“How nostalgic,” Colet chirps.

“Bea. Miguel.” Gwen greets them smoothly. “Though, I must admit, I wasn’t expecting a full-blown teleserye tonight.”

Bea laughs softly. “Neither was I.”

Mikha says nothing at first, which is unusual enough that Aiah notices. Then, suddenly, Mikha’s arm cinches tighter, pulling Aiah closer until her hip brushes Mikha’s. “At least I’ve got the best plus-one in the room,” she says, eyes on Aiah instead of Bea.

Aiah stiffens briefly, then recovers with a sweet smile. She slides a hand over Mikha’s other shoulder, angling her face to hers. “Flattery won’t get you out of this conversation, babe.”

The grin Mikha gives her is too wide, too real. “Worth a shot.”

For a second, Bea looks like she wants to say something, but instead she just nods. “Well. Enjoy the rest of the night.”

She and Miguel drift off, leaving Aiah with the sharp awareness that Mikha hadn’t let go.

Mikha exhales, tipping her head back. “Well. That was fun.”

Aiah narrows her eyes. “Was it?”

Mikha flashes a knowing smirk. “Depends. Are you jealous?”

Aiah scoffs. “Of what?”

Her smirk deepens. “Exactly.”

Colet cackles. “You live for chaos, Lim.”

Gwen doesn’t laugh. She watches Mikha too closely, and Aiah wonders if she’s noticing the same cracks.

But before she could dwell on it, a voice called out.

“Mikha.”

The new voice slices through the air.

Aiah turns, and her stomach flips.

The woman is striking—tall, sharp-eyed, dressed in something sleek and expensive, carrying the kind of presence that makes people part without meaning to. And for the first time all night, Mikha’s expression actually flickers.

Colet whistles. “Oh, this just got interesting.”

Gwen exhales like she expected this. “Of course it had to be her.”

Aiah leans closer, whispering. “Who is she?”

Gwen doesn’t look away. “Mikha’s biggest what if.”

And just like that, Aiah knows the night is far from over.

Chapter Text

Mikha’s mask slides back into place with practiced ease, but Aiah has already seen the flicker underneath.

“Dani,” Mikha greets smoothly, her smile steady but not reaching her eyes. “Didn’t think I’d see you here.”

The name lands heavy. Even Gwen and Colet fall silent, watching.

Dani crosses her arms, tilting her head. “It’s a high school reunion, Mikha. Where else would I be?”

Mikha chuckles, but the sound lacks her usual warmth. “Right. Makes sense.”

Aiah studies her carefully. Dani is nothing like Bea’s poised elegance. There’s an intensity about her, sharp and unyielding, like she could cut through excuses with a glance. And right now, that gaze fixes on Aiah.

“And you are?”

Aiah meets her eyes without flinching. “Aiah.”

Dani’s mouth curves into something that isn’t quite a smile. “Mikha’s girlfriend, right?”

Aiah doesn’t hesitate. “That’s right.”

For a fraction of a second, Mikha goes still. Then her arm slips instinctively around Aiah’s waist, tugging her closer. The smirk Aiah can feel against her cheek is less about performance and more about possession.

Dani exhales, shaking her head like she can’t quite believe it. “You never change.”

Mikha’s smile doesn’t falter. “Neither do you.”

A brief, taut silence passes before Dani simply says, “Good to see you, Mikha.”

And then she’s gone, disappearing into the crowd like a shadow.

The moment she’s out of sight, Aiah turns to Mikha, lowering her voice. “Okay, who was that?”

Colet lets out a low whistle. “That was Dani Austria.”

Gwen nods. “Mikha’s biggest almost-relationship.”

Aiah frowns. “Almost?”

Mikha, still watching the direction Dani vanished, exhales slowly. “It just never worked out.”

“Because of you or because of her?” Aiah presses.

Mikha finally looks at her, smirk sliding back into place, though it doesn’t reach her eyes. “What do you think?”

Arms crossed, Aiah huffs. “I think you have a lot of history with a lot of people.”

Mikha chuckles. “That’s not exactly a secret.”

“I should’ve asked for a list before agreeing to this,” Aiah mutters.

“If you wanted a list,” Gwen says dryly, “we’d be here all night.”

“And probably still not finish it,” Colet adds, grinning.

Aiah groans. What did I get myself into?

But when she sneaks another glance at Mikha—still watching the crowd, her smirk plastered on but her eyes distant—Aiah notices it. The act is back, but it’s thinner now, easier to see through.

Despite all the charm, all the bravado, Mikha Lim isn’t as unreadable as she wants to be.

The reunion drifts on. People chatter, laugh, hug, catch up. Mikha slips seamlessly back into the spotlight, her laughter smooth, her banter flawless. If Aiah hadn’t seen that flicker earlier, she might believe it.

But she did see. And now she can’t unsee it.

She tracks Mikha from the corner of her eye, sipping her drink. Every smile, every quip—it’s all polished, all perfect. And yet she knows, underneath, something Dani stirred still lingers.

“Staring,” Gwen’s voice teases at her shoulder.

“Observing,” Aiah corrects quickly.

“Observing your fake girlfriend?” Gwen’s brow arches, amused.

Aiah rolls her eyes. “I just don’t get it. Why does Dani throw her off when no one else does?”

Colet returns with a drink, grinning. “Because Dani’s not like the others.”

“How?”

“She’s probably the only one Mikha didn’t get to call the shots with,” Gwen answers smoothly.

The words settle heavily. Mikha, the one who always left first, the one who never stayed long enough to be left—except maybe once.

“Huh,” Aiah murmurs.

Colet leans in, playful but pointed. “That’s Mikha for you. Just when you think you’ve got her figured out, someone changes the narrative.”

Aiah glances back at Mikha again. And for the first time, she doesn’t see the ex ng buong bayan or the charming red flag.

She sees someone more complicated. Someone who once wasn’t in control.

And she doesn’t know what unsettles her more—seeing that crack in Mikha’s armor, or realizing how much she cares about it.

Later, the night winds down. The ballroom empties, voices fading as people leave in twos and threes.

The car ride is quiet. Mikha hums along to the music, her mask back in place, as if Dani’s reappearance never touched her.

But Aiah knows better.

When they pull up outside her house, she hesitates with her hand on the door.

“You okay?” Mikha asks.

Aiah turns to her. “Dani.”

Mikha blinks, caught off guard. “What about her?”

“She’s different,” Aiah says simply. “Isn’t she?”

Mikha’s fingers drum lightly on the steering wheel. “You really want to have this conversation now?”

“Why not?”

A soft chuckle. “You’re relentless.”

Aiah waits.

Finally, Mikha sighs. “Dani was… something unfinished.”

Aiah raises an eyebrow. “That’s vague.”

Mikha smirks, but it’s faint. “We had a thing. Not a relationship, not really. Just bad timing. Bad decisions.”

“So she’s the one that got away?”

Mikha turns then, her gaze unreadable, voice quieter. “No. She’s the one who never stayed.”

The words hang between them.

And for once, Aiah has nothing to say.

Because in that moment, she doesn’t see Mikha as the untouchable ex of everyone.

She sees her as someone who knows what it feels like to be left behind.

And that unsettles her more than she wants to admit.

Chapter Text

Days pass after the reunion, and Aiah convinces herself she can finally breathe. She’s paid her “debt” to Mikha, played her part, and walked away. No more drama. No more exes. No more pretending.

She goes for a morning jog to clear her head. The air is cool, the streets quiet but alive with early risers sweeping their yards. Her playlist drowns everything else out—until a voice cuts through.

“Uy, Aiah?”

She skids to a stop, pulling out one earbud. Standing a few feet away, also in workout gear, is Colet.

“Colet?” Aiah blinks. “What—why are you here?”

Colet smirks knowingly. “Uh, because I live here?”

“You live in this subdivision?”

“You sound offended.” Colet chuckles. “But yeah. My family’s been here since I was a kid.”

Aiah groans internally. Of course Cebu had to be this small.

“Let me guess—Gwen lives nearby, too?”

“Not exactly. Different village. But she comes over a lot.” Colet tilts her head, eyes glinting. “You really thought you could escape us after the reunion, huh?”

“I was so close,” Aiah sighs.

Colet laughs. “Too bad. You’re stuck with me now.”

Despite herself, Aiah chuckles. Maybe running into Colet isn’t the worst thing.

Until Colet adds, “Since we’re neighbors, you should hang out. Mikha drops by sometimes, too.”

Aiah groans out loud this time. “I take it back. This is the worst.”

“Too late.” Colet grins.

Aiah plans to finish her jog and retreat home, but Colet has other ideas.

“Come on,” she says, already turning toward a side street. “Let’s grab coffee. My treat.”

“I don’t know… I was planning to—”

“No excuses.” Colet waves her off. “Consider it a welcome-to-the-neighborhood moment.”

Aiah exhales, resigned. “Fine.”

They end up in a quiet, hole-in-the-wall café just outside the subdivision. The kind of place that’s easy to miss unless you already know it.

Colet orders without asking, and when Aiah takes a sip, she frowns. “Did you just guess my order?”

Colet smirks. “I pay attention.”

Annoying. And yet… accurate.

Conversation flows easier than Aiah expects. Colet has a steady charm—calm, thoughtful, present. It’s different from Mikha’s quick wit and relentless teasing. Where Mikha pulls people in like a spotlight, Colet gives the kind of attention that makes the world slow down.

Somewhere between swapping childhood stories and trading small jokes, Aiah notices: Colet is soft with her.

Not in a way she can pin down, but in the little things—the lean closer when she speaks, the way she checks that her coffee’s to her liking, the quiet patience when she talks about home.

And for a moment, she wonders: Is she like this with everyone?

Before she can spiral, a new voice joins.

“Uy, you started without me?”

Gwen strolls in, sliding into the seat beside Colet with her usual composed smirk.

“You can still catch up,” Colet says easily.

Gwen glances between them, amused. “Wow. Aiah, you’re spending time with us willingly now? I’m impressed.”

“More like dragged,” Aiah mutters.

Colet’s smile is small and knowing, like she’s enjoying the banter far too much.

What was supposed to be a quick coffee run stretches into an hour of light conversation. Gwen is sharp, always ready with a jab, while Colet remains steady, occasionally grounding the chaos with a quiet word.

“So,” Gwen asks, stirring her iced Americano, “you’re just visiting Cebu? Or are you back for good?”

“Just visiting,” Aiah answers. “I came home for a break, but also because of an outreach program we’re organizing.”

“Outreach?” Colet leans in.

“Yeah. A few friends and I volunteer. We’ll be doing activities with kids in a mountain barangay—school supplies, some storytelling, that sort of thing.”

Gwen raises her brows, genuinely impressed. “Damn. That’s pretty cool.”

Colet smiles, softer. “That sounds fulfilling.”

Aiah shrugs, a little self-conscious. “It’s small. But it makes a difference.”

“That’s big,” Colet says, voice quiet, thoughtful. “Not a lot of people take time for things like that.”

Aiah doesn’t know how to respond, so she just takes another sip.

Gwen leans back, smirking. “So let me get this straight—Mikha drags you into a reunion, makes you fake-date her, and then lets you go? No more pestering?”

“She tried,” Aiah scoffs. “But I think she finally accepted I don’t owe her anything anymore.”

Colet hums. “That doesn’t sound like Mikha.”

“Then maybe she’s learned to let things go.”

Gwen and Colet exchange a look before Gwen laughs. “Sure. Let’s go with that.”

Aiah frowns. Something about the way they glance at each other makes her uneasy.

But she pushes it aside. For now, she lets the moment linger—coffee, laughter, and a rare sense of ease.

It’s only later, walking home, that the unease creeps back.

Because for the first time in days, she hadn’t been thinking about Mikha at all.

And somehow, that unsettles her most of all.

Chapter Text

The laughter of children fills the open-air multipurpose hall, a bright counterpoint to the midday heat. Aiah wipes a bead of sweat from her forehead as she hands out school supplies, watching their eyes light up at the small gifts.

This—this is why she loves outreach. The exhaustion, the long prep, the travel—it all dissolves in their smiles.

She steps back for a moment, heart warm, just taking it all in. Volunteers lead storytelling sessions, organize games, set up for the feeding program. No stress. No chaos. No—

“Oh, wow.”

Aiah freezes.

She knows that voice.

She turns slowly, dread settling in her stomach. And there she is.

Mikha Lim, standing in the middle of the event like she belongs there. Loose white linen button-down, casual jeans, sunglasses perched on her head—effortlessly put together, like she hadn’t just wandered into an outreach program she has no business being in.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Aiah hisses, marching forward.

Mikha smiles, dazzling and infuriating. “Hello to you too, babe.”

Aiah wants to strangle her.

Behind Mikha, Gwen and Colet linger, looking far too pleased.

“You dragged her here?” Aiah glares.

Gwen shrugs. “She was free.”

Colet smiles. “Figured it’d be fun.”

Fun? Fun?!

Mikha claps her hands. “So, where do I start? Carry boxes? Feed the kids?” She crouches to wave at a nearby group. “Hey, little ones! You having fun?”

The kids giggle and nod.

Aiah stares in horror. This cannot be happening. She’d been enjoying the quiet, almost forgetting the fake girlfriend ordeal—and now Mikha’s here again, smiling like chaos never follows her.

She points a sharp finger. “You. Stay out of my way.”

Mikha’s grin doesn’t budge. “No promises.”

Aiah expects her to hover uselessly. Maybe flirt with volunteers, maybe turn it into a spectacle.

But she doesn’t.

Instead, Aiah catches glimpses: Mikha carrying a stack of chairs without complaint. Mikha crouched in the middle of a group, reading aloud, shifting her voice for every character until the kids squeal with laughter. Mikha kneeling to tie a little boy’s shoelace.

Aiah stares. This… is not what she expected.

“Double knot so it won’t come undone,” Mikha tells the boy, bumping his fist before glancing up. The smirk appears instantly. “Like what you see, babe?”

Arms crossed, Aiah mutters, “Just surprised you’re actually being useful.”

Mikha presses a hand to her chest. “Wow. No faith at all?”

“Can you blame me?” she shoots back, though her voice lacks its usual bite.

Mikha’s grin softens. “You underestimate me, Aiah. Look at them—they love you for what you’re doing here. It’s… it’s good work.”

The sincerity slips out before she can cover it. Aiah blinks, unsettled.

Mikha recovers with a laugh. “Also, I was class president, you know. Great with people.”

“There it is,” Aiah mutters, rolling her eyes. But the words linger, quiet and unshakable.

When a kid tugs at Mikha’s sleeve—“Ate, let’s play!”—Mikha glances at Aiah like she’s waiting for permission.

“Go,” Aiah sighs. “Just… don’t start a riot.”

Mikha winks and dashes off to join tag.

From the sidelines, Aiah watches. She wants to cling to her wariness, remind herself Mikha’s a red flag wrapped in charm. But it’s hard to deny what she sees: Mikha making sure no kid is left out, scooping up smaller ones, letting herself be tagged with dramatic tumbles that send the kids shrieking with glee.

She’s not putting on a show. This is real.

And that realization unsettles Aiah more than she wants to admit.

She turns away, busying herself, fighting thoughts she isn’t ready to name.

By cleanup, the sky has darkened. Clouds press heavy, humidity thick in the air. Volunteers stack chairs and fold tables. Aiah wipes her forehead and glances over—only to see Mikha rolling up a tarp with a local, sleeves pushed up, brow furrowed.

So different from the polished charmer she thought she knew.

And then Mikha catches her staring. The smirk is instant. “Miss me already?”

Aiah scoffs. “Just making sure you don’t disappear before the real work.”

“Wow. Low opinion of me.” Mikha tsks, then drapes an arm over her shoulder like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Admit it, babe. I’ve impressed you today.”

Aiah stiffens. “Stop calling me that.”

“You liked it at the bar.”

“I was in a tight situation.”

Mikha laughs, enjoying how easy it is to rile her.

But thunder cracks overhead, cutting them off. A gust of wind whips through the hall. Then rain crashes down, heavy and relentless. Volunteers sprint for cover.

Aiah jolts when a cold splash hits her arm, but Mikha moves instantly—shielding her with an arm, ushering her under the roof with surprising urgency.

They stumble in, dripping. Gwen and Colet arrive soaked seconds later.

“Bad news,” Colet says, wringing her hair. “Locals say the road’s a mess. If we leave now, we’ll get stuck or slide down the hills.”

“You’re saying we have to stay?” Aiah groans.

Gwen nods. “Yeah. They’re already setting up mats inside.”

Aiah sighs. Volunteers are murmuring, resigned.

Mikha, flicking wet strands from her face, only grins. “Well. Looks like we’re having a sleepover.”

Aiah exhales. This is going to be a long night.

The barangay hall is small, mats lined neatly across the bamboo floor. The smell of rain seeps through the walls, mixed with the steam of hot soup locals ladle out for everyone stranded.

Aiah curls into her borrowed blanket near Colet and Gwen. The rain drums steadily overhead, cool air brushing her skin.

Across the room, Mikha sits cross-legged with a few volunteers, laughing easily. She’s traded her crisp button-down for an oversized barangay t-shirt, hair damp, sleeves swallowed past her elbows. For once, she looks less like the untouchable Mikha Lim and more like… just someone trying to make the best of a storm.

Aiah’s gaze lingers too long.

“You’re staring.”

She jolts, snapping toward Colet’s smirk.

“I was not,” she whispers, tugging her blanket higher.

“You kinda were,” Gwen chuckles.

“I was just—look, she’s handling this better than I thought.”

“Because she’s Mikha Lim?” Colet teases.

“Yes—no—ugh.” Aiah flops onto her back, huffing. “She’s just not what I expected, okay?”

Before either of them can press further, the barangay captain calls for everyone to settle down. Mats shuffle, voices drop, the storm outside a steady lull.

Aiah exhales, adjusting on her mat—until a familiar weight drops beside her.

“Looks like we’re bunking together,” Mikha says, stretching like it’s her own room.

Aiah bolts upright. “No, we’re not.”

“Limited space, babe.” Mikha gestures lazily around. “Unless you want me across the room?”

Aiah shoots a desperate help me look at Gwen and Colet, but they only grin, delighted traitors.

With no escape, Aiah groans, rolling away. “Fine. But stay on your side.”

“Sweet dreams,” Mikha hums, already lying back, hands tucked behind her head.

Aiah drags her blanket over her head, willing her heartbeat to even out.

The hall grows quiet. Rain patters steady, blankets rustle, breathing evens. But Aiah’s eyes stay open.

Beside her, Mikha shifts. Cloth rustles, a sigh escapes.

“You’re awake,” Mikha’s voice comes low.

“So are you.”

“I can’t sleep,” Mikha murmurs. “Too many thoughts.”

Aiah turns her head slightly. “Like what?”

There’s a pause. Then, softer: “Weird, isn’t it? A few weeks ago, I didn’t even know you. Now we’re fake dating and stuck in a barangay hall together.”

Aiah lets out a breathy laugh. “Yeah. Life’s weird.”

Silence stretches, and then Mikha speaks again, quieter still.

“You’re really something.”

Aiah blinks. “What?”

“This,” Mikha gestures faintly, though her voice doesn’t waver. “The kids. The work. You didn’t have to, but you cared. People see you and think you look like an angel. But you don’t just look like one, Aiah. You are one.”

The words land heavy, unguarded.

Aiah freezes, staring at her profile in the dim light. “Mikha…”

Mikha exhales, dragging a hand through her hair. “Forget it. I didn’t mean—”

“No.” Aiah’s whisper is steady. “I won’t.”

Silence again. This time, not awkward—just thick with something unspoken. Neither pushes it further. Neither dares.

Outside, the rain keeps falling, relentless as the new weight pressing between them.

Morning comes with soft gold leaking through wooden shutters. The storm has passed, leaving the air damp and cool.

Aiah stirs, groaning at the stiffness in her back. Then she feels it—warmth pressed close. Solid. Breathing. Not a pillow.

Her eyes snap open.

Mikha’s arm is draped snugly over her waist. Their legs tangled. Their bodies close, too close, like they’d drifted together in sleep.

Aiah’s heart lurches. She freezes. Don’t panic.

She tries to wiggle free, but Mikha shifts, muttering, “Five more minutes,” and buries her face against Aiah’s shoulder.

Aiah’s brain short-circuits. What. The. Hell.

“Mikha.”

A muffled hum.

“You’re… clinging.”

Mikha frowns in her sleep, arm tightening. Then her eyes blink open. She realizes.

And launches back like she touched fire.

“What the—?! Why were you—what are you doing?!”

“What was I doing?!” Aiah shoots back, face flaming. “You latched onto me like a koala!”

“I do not latch!” Mikha groans, pointing accusingly. “You must’ve—you must’ve lured me in with your… your angelic body heat!”

“My what?!” Aiah splutters.

They’re both whisper-yelling, blankets tangled, limbs scrambling like guilty teenagers.

And then—

“Hey, lovebirds!” Gwen’s voice cuts across the room. “Awake already?”

Colet strolls up, arms crossed, smirk smug.

Instantly, Aiah and Mikha scoot apart like suspects caught in the act.

“We are not—” Aiah starts.

“We overslept!” Mikha blurts, far too loud.

Gwen snickers. “Sure. Let’s go with that.”

Colet shakes her head, amused. “You two are ridiculous.”

Both groan in unison, avoiding each other’s eyes.

As they help pack up, neither mentions it again. But Mikha keeps sneaking glances, and Aiah, no matter how hard she tries, can’t stop replaying the warmth of waking in her arms.

And though the morning hums with laughter and teasing, one thing is clear.

Something has shifted.

Chapter Text

Aiah is fine. Totally fine.

It’s not like she’s never woken up tangled with someone before. It’s not like she can still feel the ghost of Mikha’s arm around her waist, or hear the sleepy murmur against her shoulder.

She’s fine.

So fine that the moment she’s back in the city, she opens her dating app.

“This is just to prove a point,” she mutters as she swipes. “Nothing serious. Just a casual date. Normal.”

A few messages later, she has dinner plans with a girl named Pia—pretty, smart, marketing. Stable. Aiah likes stable. Someone she won’t have to untangle herself from emotionally.

For the first hour, everything is perfect. Pia is funny, warm, easy to talk to. She laughs at Aiah’s jokes, shares stories about her job and her dog. Aiah almost believes this is exactly what she needs.

Then a voice comes from behind her.

“Small world, Aiah. Didn’t know you were seeing someone.”

Aiah nearly chokes on her drink. She turns slowly.

Mikha Lim stands there, casually stylish in jeans and a loose shirt, hair tousled like she rolled out of a magazine spread. Smug. So, so smug.

Pia glances between them. “Friend of yours?”

Mikha slides her hands into her pockets, smiling like she owns the room. “Oh, Aiah and I go way back.”

Aiah’s jaw tightens. “She’s exaggerating.”

Mikha tilts her head. “Am I?”

Aiah wants to crawl under the table. “What are you even doing here?”

“Would you believe me if I said I just want coffee?”

No. Not in a million years.

Pia brightens. “Well, if you two are close, why don’t you join us?”

“No,” Aiah says instantly.

But Mikha is already pulling out a chair. “Don’t mind if I do.”

Aiah stares in mute horror as Mikha makes herself comfortable, flipping open a menu like this is her table.

“So,” Mikha asks breezily, “how did you two meet?”

Aiah narrows her eyes. “None of your business.”

Pia chuckles. “We matched on a dating app. Aiah seemed sweet, so I thought, why not?”

Mikha hums, tapping the table thoughtfully. “Dating apps, huh? Interesting.”

Aiah throws her a don’t-you-dare glare.

Mikha ignores it. “You know, Pia, Aiah is the type to overthink things. If she feels something she doesn’t expect, she’ll probably go on a date just to prove to herself she doesn’t feel it.”

Aiah whips toward her. “Excuse me?!”

Pia laughs softly. “That’s… surprisingly specific.”

“It’s also completely untrue,” Aiah sputters.

Mikha only smirks. “Denial is her specialty.”

“Babe,” she adds sweetly.

Aiah almost flips the table.

Pia settles her chin on her hand, eyes bright with interest. “So, are you two… exes?”

“No,” Aiah says immediately.

“Not yet,” Mikha says at the exact same time.

Aiah gapes. “WHAT—”

Mikha sighs like a tragic heroine. “We’ve talked about this, Aiah. You can’t keep denying our connection.”

“I hate you so much,” Aiah mutters.

Pia chuckles. “You two have a very interesting dynamic.”

Mikha smiles at her. “We do, don’t we?”

Aiah groans and drops her forehead onto the table.

Pia studies them, amusement sharpening into something more pointed. “Okay. If you’re not exes, what exactly are you?”

Before Aiah can answer, Mikha leans back and takes a sip from Aiah’s drink like she has all the time in the world. “She’s in denial. But I’m patient.”

“There’s nothing to deny,” Aiah snaps.

“Not officially dating,” Mikha says with a shrug, “but all those stolen glances, the lingering touches, the undeniable tension—”

“Oh my God,” Aiah groans, covering her face. “Stop talking.”

Pia lets out a low laugh and shakes her head. “You realize you two sound like you’re halfway into a relationship already.”

“We do not!” Aiah protests.

“Told you,” Mikha says, winking at Pia. “Insightful.”

That does it. Pia pushes her chair back, polite but firm. “Aiah, you’re great. But I’m not interested in being in the middle of… whatever this is.” She gestures between them. “There’s clearly unfinished business, and I’m not signing up to be collateral.”

“Wait—” Aiah tries, but Pia is already standing.

“No offense,” Pia adds, eyes flicking to Mikha, pointed now. “But if this is your idea of fun, you might want to rethink how you treat people.”

Mikha places a hand over her chest, feigning innocence. “Wow. Harsh.”

Pia gives Aiah a small, sympathetic smile and walks away.

Silence follows. It is brutal.

Aiah turns to Mikha, eye twitching. “Are you happy now?”

Mikha props her chin on her hand, unbothered. “A little.”

“You ruined my date.”

“Correction.” Mikha leans in, voice dipping with mock intimacy. “I save you from a mistake.”

“You—” Aiah throws her hands up. “Unbelievable.”

“You owe me one,” Mikha says, leaning back.

“Excuse me?!”

“Come on. That date is going nowhere.” She smirks. “You’ll thank me later.”

Aiah’s chair screeches as she shoots to her feet. “You think this is funny? You love messing with people. Playing around like it’s all a game.” She gestures at Pia’s empty chair. “Does it make you feel good? Ruining my night just because you feel like it?”

For the first time, Mikha’s smirk wavers. She pastes it back. “Relax. I’m looking out for you, babe.”

“Don’t call me that.” Aiah’s voice cuts sharp. “I’m not one of your stupid flings. You don’t get to toy with me just because you’re bored.”

Mikha’s smirk falters again. “That’s not what I—”

“I should’ve known better.” Aiah lets out a humorless laugh, shaking her head. “You’re exactly who I thought you were.”

Mikha’s lips part, but Aiah doesn’t wait. She turns and storms out, pulse pounding.

She doesn’t look back. Mikha doesn’t stop her.

She stays frozen in her chair, fingers curling loosely around the table edge. No clever comeback. No teasing remark. Just Aiah’s words, replaying.

You don’t get to toy with me.

Exactly who I thought you were.

She exhales, slow.

“Well,” Gwen says dryly from across the restaurant, arms crossed. “That was painful.”

Beside her, Colet raises an eyebrow. “You really have a gift for self-sabotage.”

Mikha forces a scoff. “Oh, come on. She’s overreacting.”

“Is she?” Gwen asks evenly.

Mikha hesitates.

Colet slides into the seat across from her, folding her arms. “Be honest. Did you crash that date just to annoy her? Or is it something else?”

“I’m helping,” Mikha says, leaning back. “Online dating is a nightmare, and Pia clearly isn’t her type.”

“Uh-huh,” Gwen says, unimpressed. “That’s why you practically mark your territory in front of her.”

Heat creeps up Mikha’s throat. “I am not—”

“Jealous,” Colet cuts in.

“I don’t do jealousy,” Mikha snaps.

They share a look that makes Mikha bristle.

She groans and drags her hands down her face. “Fine. Maybe I overdo it a little. But Aiah doesn’t have to blow up like that.”

“She blows up because she thinks you’re playing with her,” Colet says, firm. “And honestly? Right now, you are.”

Mikha scowls at the table. “She’s impossible.”

“No,” Gwen says smoothly. “She’s just not falling for your usual tricks.”

Mikha goes quiet. Because the truth is, Gwen is right.

And that is exactly why Aiah gets under her skin so much.

Chapter Text

Aiah doesn’t stop walking until she’s blocks away from the restaurant, her heart still pounding in her ears. Her hands are balled into fists at her sides, her face hot with embarrassment. She tells herself it’s just anger, nothing more.

Why does it feel personal?

She knows what Mikha is like. The playful teasing, the careless charm, the way she slides into situations like it’s all a joke. “Ex of the whole town.” Aiah has always known this. So why does it sting when Mikha does it to her?

She paces along the bay, city lights flickering on the water. Her words echo back at her.

You just love messing with people.

She hadn’t meant to say it out loud. But it had spilled out, sharp and certain.

Aiah drops onto a bench, hugging herself against the night air. She’s fine. She doesn’t care. She just doesn’t want Mikha in her head. That’s all.

Her phone buzzes.

Maloi: Hey, why’d you ghost us? How was the date?

Aiah stares at the screen, already hearing the teasing chorus if she replies. She turns the phone off and stuffs it back into her bag. Not tonight.

In her car, Mikha grips the steering wheel so tight her knuckles ache.

She should laugh this off. Normally, she would. Aiah storming out, Pia walking away—she’d roll her eyes, grab a drink, move on.

But Aiah’s words keep replaying.

You just love messing with people. Playing around like it’s all a game.

The accusation stings more than she wants to admit. Maybe it’s because Aiah believed it.

Mikha exhales and leans back in the seat, staring at the faint reflection of herself in the windshield. If it were anyone else, she wouldn’t care. But Aiah isn’t anyone else. She doesn’t take the bait. She doesn’t fall into line. She looks at Mikha like she’s trouble—and for the first time, Mikha doesn’t like it.

She rakes a hand through her hair and forces out a dry laugh. “I’m overthinking this. She’s impossible.”

Still, her chest feels tight in a way that has nothing to do with the air outside.

By the time Aiah gets home, exhaustion drags at her limbs. She sinks onto the couch and pulls a pillow against her chest, willing herself not to think about the restaurant, not to replay Mikha’s smirk, or the flash of something else in her eyes before Aiah walked out.

But the words are still there, sharp and heavy.

You just love messing with people.

She groans and buries her face in the pillow. It’s true. Isn’t it? That’s who Mikha is. That’s who she’s always been. So why does it feel like she’s punched a hole in her own chest?

Her phone buzzes on the coffee table. She grabs it, half expecting the name she doesn’t want to see. Instead:

Colet: Want ice cream?

Aiah sighs.

Aiah: You’re outside, aren’t you?

Colet: Maybe. Open the door and find out.

When Aiah opens the gate, Colet is standing there with two cups of ice cream and that knowing smirk.

“Don’t ask how I know you need this,” Colet says, handing her one. “I just do.”

Despite herself, Aiah laughs softly. “Thanks.”

They settle on the couch, eating in silence for a while. The cool sweetness calms her more than she wants to admit.

When Aiah’s spoon scrapes the bottom of her cup, Colet finally speaks. “So. You want to talk about it?”

Aiah stares at the empty cup. “I just… don’t get her. One minute she’s infuriating, the next she’s—” She cuts herself off with a shake of her head.

“Charming?” Colet offers.

“I was going to say confusing.”

“Same thing,” Colet teases, smirking. “That’s Mikha. Always been like that.”

“I don’t like it,” Aiah mutters, curling up on the couch, knees to her chest. “I don’t like feeling like she’s in my head when she has no business being there.”

Colet leans back, spoon dangling loosely in her hand. “Maybe it’s because you’re not seeing her the way you think you are.”

Aiah frowns. “What does that mean?”

“You see Mikha as the ex of the whole town. The chaos, the smirks, the reputation.” Colet shrugs. “And you’re not wrong. But here’s the thing—Mikha’s good at messing things up because she doesn’t know how to ask people to stay without sounding desperate. So she makes it a game.”

Aiah blinks, thrown off by the gentleness under Colet’s teasing tone.

“So maybe,” Colet adds lightly, “you’re the first one who isn’t playing.”

Aiah doesn’t know how to answer that. She just hugs the pillow tighter, her chest unsettled, because she doesn’t want it to be true.

But the silence that follows feels a lot like an answer anyway.

Chapter Text

The doorbell rings, slicing through Aiah’s quiet evening. She barely glances up from her phone, expecting a delivery—until she peeks through the window and freezes.

Mikha Lim leans against her car outside, posture casual, eyes unreadable.

Aiah’s stomach twists. Two days since their fight. No word, no message. Not that she was waiting. She wasn’t.

Still, her feet move anyway.

Mikha straightens when she opens the gate. Her usual grin isn’t there; her voice is careful. “Hey.”

Aiah crosses her arms. “What are you doing here?”

“Can we talk?” Mikha nods toward the car.

Aiah considers shutting the door in her face. But something in Mikha’s expression makes her pause. With a quiet sigh, she slips into the passenger seat. The door clicks shut, locking them into silence.

Mikha exhales, gripping the wheel. Then she turns to her. “I’m sorry.”

Aiah blinks. No smirk, no wink. Just words, plain and heavy.

“I shouldn’t have crashed your date,” Mikha says. “I thought I was being funny, but I crossed a line. And I hate that I made you feel like I was just playing with you.”

The honesty catches Aiah off guard. Her fingers tighten on her lap. “Aren’t you, though? Messing with people for fun?”

Mikha flinches. Subtle, but real. She drags a hand through her hair, frustration flickering across her face. “I don’t know if you’ll believe me, but I never meant to mess with you. I just—” She breaks off, swallowing. Her voice is quieter now. “I like being around you. And I guess I got selfish.”

The words lodge in Aiah’s chest, sharp and unwelcome. She doesn’t know what to do with them.

“I don’t know what you want from me,” she admits.

“I don’t want anything,” Mikha says quickly. “I just wanted to say sorry.”

Something loosens inside Aiah, though she won’t name it. She sighs, leaning back in her seat. “You’re annoying, you know that?”

A slow smile tugs at Mikha’s lips, careful, tentative. “Yeah. I know.”

The tension shifts—lighter now, but not gone.

Mikha taps her fingers on the wheel. “Let’s drive. No pressure, no talking if you don’t want to. It helps me clear my head.”

Aiah hesitates. She could go inside, lock the door on this strange pull Mikha has on her. Or she could stay. Just for tonight.

She leans back with a sigh. “Fine.”

Streetlights flicker across Mikha’s face as they weave through the city. The hum of the engine fills the quiet. It’s not awkward. Not charged. Just… still.

Mikha’s voice breaks the silence. “I do this when I need to get out of my head.”

Aiah glances at her. No smirk, no bravado. Just honesty. She looks away quickly before it can sink in too far.

“Pull over,” Aiah says suddenly, spotting a row of street food stalls lit with flickering bulbs.

Mikha raises a brow but obeys. “Is this where you go when you can’t sleep?”

“This is my comfort food,” Aiah says, already unbuckling her seatbelt.

Mikha smirks faintly. “My comfort food comes with wine pairings.”

“Oh, shut up.” Aiah hands her a stick of isaw. “You owe me one. Try it.”

Mikha stares at the skewer like it’s a personal insult. “You’re really using that against me?”

“Absolutely.”

With exaggerated reluctance, Mikha takes a bite. Her eyes give her away when she goes in for a second.

“You like it,” Aiah crows.

“I hate that I like it,” Mikha mutters, scowling.

“Welcome to the dark side, Mikha Lim.”

Their laughter blends with the smoke and chatter of the stalls. They try everything—kwek-kwek, balut, barbecue—each bite pulling Mikha further out of her polished shell. For once, it feels easy. Like they’ve stepped outside the game.

Sitting at a plastic table with soda bottles sweating between them, Mikha leans back and looks at her. Softer. “I can’t believe this is the first time I’m doing this.”

“First time for everything,” Aiah says with a grin.

“You’re corrupting me.”

“Good. Someone has to.”

For a moment, it feels dangerously real.

Then Mikha’s phone buzzes.

Aiah wouldn’t have cared—shouldn’t have cared—except she sees the name flash across the screen. Ria. Just that. No last name. No picture.

Mikha doesn’t even hesitate. She flips the phone face down.

Aiah feels it then, quiet and sharp. Not anger. Not hurt. Just something sinking in her stomach. She looks away, biting into her skewer with forced focus.

Don’t overthink. It’s just a call. It means nothing.

But her laughter dims after that. Her posture stiffens. She doesn’t even notice she’s pulling back until Mikha tilts her head.

“Something wrong?”

“Nothing,” Aiah says too quickly. She forces a smile. “Just got full.”

Mikha doesn’t buy it, but she lets it slide.

The drive back is quiet. Not the peaceful kind from earlier. The heavy kind.

When they reach her house, Mikha tries lightly, “So… did I pass your street food initiation?”

Aiah gives a small smile. “Maybe.”

And that’s all.

She doesn’t look back as she slips inside.

Aiah tosses her keys on the counter and collapses onto the couch. The night replays in her head—the apology, the laughter, the ease that felt almost too good to be true.

Then the buzz of that phone. The name on the screen.

She grabs her phone, scrolling mindlessly until a notification freezes her.

Julie Samonta tagged Mikha Lim in a photo.

Aiah taps before she can stop herself.

A group shot. Mikha in the center, drink in hand, flashing the same charming grin Aiah had seen hours ago.

The caption: Mikha Lim, as charming as ever. Some things never change. 😉

Aiah scoffs, locking her phone.

See? This is exactly why you don’t get caught up in her.

She presses her fingers against her temples, irritation prickling.

Mikha had apologized. She had even been sincere. But this—this is the reminder.

Mikha Lim is still Mikha Lim.

And Aiah would do well to remember that.

Chapter Text

Aiah needs to move.

After two days of trying—and failing—to shove Mikha Lim out of her head, she decides enough is enough. No more late-night spirals, no more doom-scrolling that tagged photo like it means something. She needs to do something physical, something exhausting enough to make her forget, even if just for a few hours.

So when she sees a flyer for a group trek in the nearby mountains, she signs up on impulse.

A workout, fresh air, and zero chance of running into Mikha? Perfect.

She arrives at the meet-up point early, stretching as other hikers gather. Everyone’s adjusting packs, tightening shoelaces, buzzing with that pre-adventure energy. Aiah crouches to tie hers, determined to blend in, when—

“Aiah?”

She looks up and almost groans.

Of course. Gwen.

She’s dressed head-to-toe in sleek black athletic gear, looking like she was born to trek. Her brows lift like she’s just seen a celebrity where she least expected. “What are you doing here?”

Aiah shrugs, too casual. “Trekking?”

Gwen crosses her arms, suspicion immediate. “Since when do you sign up for random group hikes?”

Aiah busies herself with her water bottle. “Since today.”

“You impulse-signed up, didn’t you?”

Aiah scoffs. “What, I can’t try new things?”

Gwen tilts her head, studying her. “You can. It’s just… you don’t look like someone here for the nature experience. Looks more like someone here for the existential meltdown package.”

Aiah makes a face. “Wow. Thanks.”

Before Gwen can say more, the guide calls everyone to gather, starting the trek. Gwen lets it go—for now—but Aiah feels those eyes on her the whole way.

The trail is quiet at first. Shoes crunch against dirt, leaves rustle in the breeze, and someone’s Bluetooth speaker leaks soft acoustic music from a few rows ahead. Aiah focuses on her steps, the rhythm, the climb. If she thinks hard enough about not tripping, maybe she won’t think about Mikha.

Gwen falls into step beside her, annoyingly in sync. She doesn’t press, but Aiah catches her glancing every so often, like she’s cataloguing evidence for later cross-examination.

They reach a small clearing for a water break. Aiah leans against a tree, sipping from her bottle, when Gwen finally goes in for the kill.

“So,” Gwen says casually, arms crossed. “What’s going on with you?”

Aiah blinks. “Nothing.”

“Right.” Gwen nods, deadpan. “Because people totally sign up for a four-hour climb on a whim when they’re totally fine.”

“I’m not running away from anything.”

Gwen laughs softly. “You keep saying that like you’re convincing me. Or yourself.”

Aiah sets her bottle down, crossing her arms. “I just needed… to clear my head, okay?”

“Clear your head.” Gwen’s tone softens, though her smirk doesn’t fade. “Aiah, you’re here alone with a bunch of strangers. You think I don’t know a coping mechanism when I see one?”

Aiah groans, dragging a hand down her face. “God, you make it sound like I’m one meltdown away from rolling down this mountain.”

“Not rolling,” Gwen corrects. “Just dramatically sitting on a rock, staring into the void.”

Aiah glares. “That’s oddly specific.”

“Because I’ve done it,” Gwen replies simply, then shrugs. “Point is, you don’t have to play it cool with me. You don’t want to talk yet? Fine. But don’t pretend you climbed up here just for cardio.”

Aiah exhales, staring out at the slope below them. She doesn’t say Mikha’s name. She can’t. Not to Mikha’s childhood friend. Instead, she mutters, “I’m just… figuring things out. And some things are harder to figure out than others.”

Gwen nods, backing off immediately. “Fair enough. Take your time.”

The trek stretches on. The higher they climb, the more the city fades into the distance, hills rolling endlessly around them. The air is cooler, cleaner, almost enough to trick Aiah into believing she can breathe easier. Almost.

Because the thoughts follow anyway.

Not the photo. Not the phone call. Not even the apology.

What haunts her is that, for a moment, she let herself believe Mikha was different with her. That maybe she wasn’t just another person in the endless orbit of Mikha Lim.

And that was stupid.

She trips slightly over a root, catching herself with a muttered curse. Great. Even her feet think she’s pathetic.

Up ahead, Gwen glances back. “You good?”

“Yeah,” Aiah calls, forcing a smile. “Just thinking.”

Gwen gives her a knowing look but doesn’t push, which Aiah appreciates. That’s what she likes about Gwen—she has radar for when to tease and when to shut up.

By the time they reach the peak, Aiah is drenched in sweat but lighter somehow. The view stretches wide—rolling hills, the city a faint glimmer below, the wind cool against her flushed skin.

It’s beautiful.

She moves a little away from the others, settling on a large rock. For once, the noise in her chest dulls, replaced by silence and sky.

Gwen clocks her distance but leaves her alone.

Aiah closes her eyes, letting the stillness settle. For now, it’s enough.

But in the quiet, even here, she knows: Mikha Lim hasn’t really left her.

She exhales, opens her eyes to the horizon, and mutters under her breath, “Next time, I’m signing up for yoga instead.”

Chapter Text

Aiah has been successfully keeping to herself for the past few days. No random interactions with Mikha, no lingering thoughts that twist her stomach in ways she doesn’t want to acknowledge. Just peace.

Until Colet shows up.

“You’re coming with me today,” Colet announces the moment Aiah opens the gate.

Aiah blinks, still in her pajamas, hair slightly disheveled. “Uh… good morning?”

“Good morning,” Colet replies smoothly. “Now, go change. We’re going out.”

Aiah squints. “Going where?”

“You’ll see.”

“Colet—”

“You have five minutes,” Colet cuts her off, crossing her arms. “Or I’m picking your outfit for you.”

Aiah mutters something about tyrants under her breath but disappears inside, knowing there’s no way out.

Half an hour later, they pull up at an animal rescue center just outside the city.

Aiah blinks, confused. “Wait. This is where we’re going?”

Colet grins. “Yup. I help out here from time to time. Figured you’d like it.”

Caught off guard, Aiah glances at her. She does love animals. Honestly, this is the most thoughtful surprise anyone has given her in a long while. “…Did Gwen talk to you?”

Colet just shrugs with a grin as they walk inside, immediately greeted by an overexcited Aspin wagging its tail like it might take off in flight. Aiah crouches, letting the dog sniff her hand before scratching behind its ears.

“You volunteer here?” she asks, watching as Colet greets some of the staff like it’s second nature.

“Whenever I can.” Colet grabs a leash. “Come on, let’s take some of the dogs for a walk.”

Aiah hesitates, but when another leash is pressed into her hand, she follows. Soon they’re strolling through a grassy field, sun warm on their backs, each of them leading a dog that looks happier than most people Aiah knows.

“So, what made you start coming here?” Aiah asks, glancing at Colet’s dog trotting along.

Colet shrugs. “I like animals. And… I like taking care of something that just needs kindness. No complications. No games.”

Something about the way she says it makes Aiah glance sideways. But Colet just keeps walking, steady and calm.

It’s nice. Simple. Unlike… everything else.

They reach a shaded bench and sit, watching the dogs wrestle in the grass. Silence settles, easy and unforced.

“Thanks for bringing me here,” Aiah says finally, a small smile tugging at her lips. “I needed this.”

Colet turns, expression softer than usual. “I know.”

The quiet weight of those two words lingers. Aiah feels seen, which is both comforting and disarming. She clears her throat, patting the dog beside her as if to shake the feeling off.

By the time they climb back into Colet’s car, Aiah is convinced the day is over. But Colet’s smirk says otherwise.

“Why do you look like you’re about to drag me somewhere else?” Aiah asks, narrowing her eyes.

“Because I am,” Colet says easily.

“Colet—”

“No strenuous activity this time.” Her grin is infuriatingly mysterious. “Just something more… intellectual.”

Twenty minutes later, Aiah is sitting in a bookstore-slash-café, surrounded by people discussing a book she hasn’t even heard of.

“You brought me to a book club?” she whispers, scandalized.

Colet flips through a battered novel like she belongs here. “Yup.”

“You nerd!”

Colet smirks.

Aiah rolls her eyes but can’t hide the amused smile spreading across her face. The group is warm and welcoming, even though she clearly hasn’t read the book. As the discussion flows, she relaxes, sinking into the easy rhythm of it all.

At some point, she leans close and whispers, “You know, you and my friend Jhoanna would get along. She’s into this kind of nerdy stuff too.”

Colet arches an eyebrow. “Oh? Trying to set me up with your friends now?”

Aiah snickers. “I mean, you are giving off the same energy.”

“Focus, book club newbie.” Colet nudges her.

Aiah laughs, flipping to the first page like she’s about to cram for an exam.

It’s… nice. Different.

Colet isn’t flashy. She isn’t unpredictable. She’s steady, thoughtful, and easy to be around.

And yet, despite all that, Aiah can’t shake the feeling that something’s missing.

Because when Colet smiles at her, her stomach doesn’t twist. Isn’t that what she wanted? Stability without chaos?

So why does it feel like she’s waiting for something else?

She sighs, muttering to herself as the group discussion continues: “Figures. I can’t even get peace right.”

Chapter Text

Mikha isn’t even thinking about Aiah when she scrolls through her phone.

Okay. That’s a lie.

She’s been thinking about Aiah—why she’s so quiet, why she hasn’t seen her, why it feels like she’s vanished into thin air. Not that Mikha is waiting for her to reach out. Obviously not.

But then, there it is.

Aiah’s name. A photo.

Her and Colet. Side by side at an animal rescue center.

Mikha frowns and taps on the post.

Appreciation post for a great day! Thank you, Colet, for the dog cuddles, the book club initiation (even if I was clueless half the time), and for just being an all-around great company. 💙 #WholesomeAdventures #BestDayEver

Mikha stares at the caption. Then stares at it some more.

Her grip tightens on the phone as her brain zeroes in on three particular words:

Best. Day. Ever.

With Colet.

She scoffs, tossing her phone onto the couch. “Cute,” she mutters. “Real cute.”

She isn’t bothered. Not at all.

She’s simply… observing. Aiah can hang out with whoever she wants. They’re not together. She doesn’t owe Mikha anything.

Not her problem.

Three minutes later, Mikha unlocks her phone again.

Reopens the post.

Scrolls through the comments.

Why is everyone being so supportive?

Mikha rolls her eyes. Whatever. She’s fine.

Except she isn’t.

Because as much as she wants to pretend it doesn’t matter… it does.

Later, she ends up at the gym, aggressively loading the leg press like it insulted her entire family.

“You good?” the trainer asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Great,” Mikha grits out, stacking more plates than necessary. “Perfect, actually.”

One rep. Two. Three—

Her brain: Best day ever.

Mikha: Nope.

Four. Five—

Her brain: All-around great company.

Her foot slips. The weight crashes down faster than expected, and she grips the handles in a scramble.

“Damn it,” she mutters.

This is ridiculous. She doesn’t get rattled like this. If someone moves on from her? Fine. That’s the deal. Mikha Lim doesn’t chase. She’s easygoing, untouchable.

Except right now she’s sweaty, annoyed, and one bad playlist shuffle away from losing it.

She moves to the treadmill. The first song that plays? A love ballad.

Mikha yanks her earphones out so fast she nearly trips.

“Unbelievable.”

Back home, she flips through TV channels like her life depends on it.

Rom-com? Too on the nose.

Crime thriller? Why is the detective crying about his failed marriage?

Cooking show? “Cooking for someone you love makes the food taste better.”

Mikha turns the TV off.

The universe is mocking her.

She slumps into the couch cushions, exhaling hard. It’s fine. Let her do whatever she wants. She’s not yours to worry about.

But the thought that sneaks in is softer, harder to shove away—Why does it feel like she’s slipping further out of my reach?

She hates that thought.

Then her phone buzzes.

A message from Gwen.

She opens it. A photo.

Of Aiah. Winded but smiling, unfairly ethereal, standing next to Gwen on a mountaintop.

The caption: “Your fake girlfriend is spending time with real friends now. Tsk tsk.”

Mikha’s eye twitches. “What the—”

Another message pops up.

Gwen: Relax. She looked happy. With us.

Mikha: Wow. Thanks for the update I didn’t ask for.

Gwen: You’re welcome. 🫶

Mikha locks her phone like that will erase the sting. It doesn’t.

Because the question has already lodged itself in her chest, stubborn and loud:

Why is Aiah hanging out with everyone but me?

Mikha presses her palms over her face with a groan.

She hates that she cares. She hates even more that Gwen definitely knows it.

Chapter Text

Mikha tells herself she isn’t going to do anything.

She isn’t going to text.

She isn’t going to show up unannounced.

She isn’t going to let this get to her.

And yet—

Lying on her couch, phone in hand, she scrolls through food delivery apps when an idea strikes her.

She taps on one of the stalls selling street food, a familiar sight appearing on her screen.

Isaw.

Immediately, her mind flashes back to Aiah—the way she had practically forced her to try it, the triumphant grin when Mikha begrudgingly admitted she actually liked it.

Mikha exhales, rolling her eyes at herself.

This is stupid.

And then, before she can stop herself, she takes a screenshot of the isaw, opens her chat with Aiah, and sends the photo with a message: “This reminded me of you.”

She stares at the message for a second.

Maybe this is a bad idea.

Maybe she should unsend it.

But before she can, the little “Seen” notification pops up.

And Mikha holds her breath.

Now, all she has to do is wait.

Aiah isn’t expecting anything when she checks her phone that evening.

In fact, she’s so sure she’s finally past whatever hold Mikha Lim has on her. She’s been doing fine—keeping busy, spending time with friends, actively avoiding anything that might make her spiral back into unnecessary feelings.

And then, the notification pops up.

Mikha Lim sent a photo.

Aiah blinks.

She taps on it, and immediately, a picture of isaw fills her screen, followed by a short, completely infuriating message:

“This reminded me of you.”

Aiah freezes.

What… what does that even mean?!

Her brain short-circuits. There are too many possible meanings, and she does not like any of them.

Did Mikha mean it as an insult? (She better not.)

Was it a joke? (Of course it was.)

Or—worse—was it just Mikha being Mikha, throwing something random at her just to see how she’d react?

Aiah scowls at the screen, thumbs hovering over the keyboard.

She starts typing.

Aiah: What is that even supposed to mean?

She frowns. No. That sounds like she’s curious.

She erases it.

Types again.

Aiah: Are you drunk?

No. Too much concern. Deleted.

Another attempt.

Aiah: You’re annoying.

She almost hits send but stops herself at the last second.

No. No way is she going to give Mikha the satisfaction of knowing she’s affected.

Her thumbs hesitate again. The little text bubble appears, then disappears.

Appears.

Disappears.

Appears.

Disappears.

Mikha, on the other end, is probably watching the chat, laughing her ass off.

Aiah grits her teeth.

You know what? Forget it.

She locks her phone and ignores the message entirely.

But not really.

Mikha leans back on her couch, phone in hand, watching the little typing bubble appear and disappear.

Then appear.

Then disappear.

Then appear again.

Then—nothing.

Mikha smirks.

Oh, this is fun.

She can practically hear Aiah’s internal conflict through the screen—probably frowning at her phone, overthinking every possible meaning behind the message, debating whether to reply or ignore it.

And then, after minutes of suspense…

Nothing.

Mikha stares at the chat, raising an eyebrow.

Aiah has actually chosen to ignore her?

She scoffs, running a hand through her hair. Damn, she’s stubborn.

She waits.

Checks again.

Still nothing.

Mikha exhales, tossing her phone onto the table.

“She’s so annoying,” she mutters—to absolutely no one but herself.

For someone who’s so sure she doesn’t care about Aiah’s reaction, Mikha finds herself checking her phone more than necessary for the next hour.

Nothing.

Mikha narrows her eyes.

She isn’t usually the type to chase.

But Aiah ignoring her? That’s unacceptable.

So, naturally, she has to escalate things.

The first move is simple.

She opens Instagram, snaps a quick picture of a plate of isaw, and adds a text to her Story that’s vague enough to be innocent but just pointed enough to make Aiah question everything.

“Some people don’t appreciate isaw enough. Smh.”

She smirks as she hits post, casually tossing her phone aside.

Now, for the second move.

Mikha taps her fingers against the table, thinking. A text won’t do—Aiah will just ignore it again. If she wants to get under Aiah’s skin, she needs to be unpredictable.

Her eyes flick back to her phone, snatching it and opening the food delivery app.

A slow, devious grin spreads across her lips.

Aiah is in the middle of reading when her doorbell rings.

She frowns, setting her book down. She isn’t expecting anyone.

When she opens the gate, all she sees is a delivery guy holding a bag.

“Delivery for Aiah Arceta?”

Aiah blinks. “I didn’t order anything.”

The guy just shrugs. “It’s already paid for. Enjoy your meal.”

He hands her the bag and walks off before she can even ask any more questions.

Confused, Aiah steps back inside, setting the bag on the kitchen counter and cautiously peeking inside.

Her breath hitches.

Isaw.

Fresh, warm, unmistakably isaw.

Aiah freezes.

She immediately grabs her phone, opens Instagram—and there it is.

Mikha’s stupid, infuriatingly smug post.

“Some people don’t appreciate isaw enough. Smh.”

Aiah’s jaw clenches.

Oh, hell no.

Aiah refuses to take the bait.

She will not text Mikha.

She will not react.

She will not let this ridiculous mind game get to her.

Instead, she takes a deep breath, grabs her phone, and opens Instagram.

If Mikha wants to play, then fine. Game on.

Aiah snaps a quick picture of the isaw—no context, no fancy angles, just the food sitting on her counter. Then, she types out her caption:

“Some people have too much time on their hands. Smh.”

She hits post before she can overthink it.

Then, she waits.

She definitely isn’t refreshing the viewers list to see if Mikha has seen it. Nope. Not at all.

But three minutes later—

Seen by: Mikha Lim.

Aiah smirks.

Now, let’s see how she likes it.

Mikha sees the notification pop up on her screen while she’s mid-scroll through her feed.

At first, she doesn’t think much of it. Another story update? Whatever. But then—

She sees the photo.

Isaw.

And right below it, Aiah’s caption:

“Some people have too much time on their hands. Smh.”

Mikha stares at the screen.

Her smirk instantly fades, replaced by something dangerously close to genuine disbelief.

Aiah has flipped the game on her.

Mikha expects an annoyed text, maybe an eye-roll emoji, even radio silence—but this? This is war.

Without thinking, she calls.

The phone rings once. Twice.

Then—

Aiah picks up, her voice casual, almost too casual. “Wow. A phone call? Didn’t expect that, Mikha Lim.”

Mikha exhales sharply, gripping her phone tighter. “You think you’re funny, don’t you?”

Aiah hums, completely unfazed. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Mikha groans, running a hand down her face. “Oh, come on. You know exactly what you’re doing.”

“Do I?” Aiah says, her voice laced with amusement. “Or are you just mad that someone finally outplayed you?”

Mikha narrows her eyes. “I’m not mad.”

“Sure.”

Mikha hears the smirk in Aiah’s voice and feels her pulse spike.

Damn it.

She really should’ve seen this coming.

Mikha inhales, steadying herself. She can turn this around.

“Aren’t you overreacting a little?” she says, leaning back against her couch, forcing her voice into its usual lazy drawl. “Posting a whole Instagram story just because of a little snack delivery? Seems dramatic, Aiah.”

Aiah lets out a small laugh, and Mikha swears she can hear the satisfaction in it. “Oh, I’m the dramatic one? Says the person who sent isaw to my doorstep like it’s some kind of message from the universe.”

“That wasn’t a message,” Mikha lies smoothly. “That was just… me being thoughtful.”

Aiah snorts. “Right. Thoughtful. That’s what we’re calling it now?”

Mikha grits her teeth. She’s losing. Fast.

She needs to pivot. Now.

So, naturally, she does what she always does when things don’t go her way—she deflects.

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

Silence.

Mikha immediately knows she’s struck something.

Aiah’s breath hitches, but she recovers quickly. “No, I haven’t.”

“Yes, you have,” Mikha says, sitting up straighter. “You’re acting different. Distant.”

“Maybe I’ve just been busy.”

Mikha knows that isn’t it.

Aiah has time to hang out with Colet. Time to go on treks with Gwen. Time to post appreciation stories that make Mikha irrationally irritated.

But somehow, no time for her?

Mikha exhales, voice softer now. “Did I do something?”

Another pause.

And this time, Aiah doesn’t answer.

That’s all Mikha needs to know.

Aiah exhales sharply. Of course Mikha would turn the conversation around on her. Of course she wouldn’t just let this be a stupid, playful game.

This is exactly why Aiah has been avoiding her in the first place.

“I told you,” she says, keeping her tone light. “I’ve been busy.”

“Busy with what?” Mikha shoots back, her voice unreadable.

Aiah scoffs. “Why do you care?”

Mikha doesn’t answer right away. And that silence—that pause—is dangerous.

Aiah doesn’t realize she’s holding her breath until Mikha speaks again, softer this time. “Because it feels like you’re avoiding me.”

Aiah rolls her eyes, even though Mikha can’t see her. “Not everything is about you, Mikha.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Mikha mutters.

Aiah swallows. She needs to shut this down before Mikha sees through her completely.

“You’re overthinking it,” she says, forcing a laugh. “You don’t actually think I’d go out of my way just to avoid you, do you?”

Mikha doesn’t reply immediately. And that hesitation tells Aiah that yes, Mikha does think that.

And worse?

She isn’t wrong.

But before Mikha can push any further, Aiah clears her throat. “Look, I have to go. Thanks for the… food, I guess.”

And before Mikha can respond, Aiah hangs up.

She stares at her screen for a second, heart pounding.

What the hell is she doing?

On the other end of the call, Mikha lets out a frustrated sigh, staring at her phone.

Aiah can deflect all she wants.

But Mikha isn’t stupid.

Something is going on.

And she’s going to figure out exactly what it is.

Chapter Text

Mikha leans back against the cushioned seat of the café, arms crossed as she idly stirs her iced coffee with a straw. Across from her, Gwen scrolls through her phone while Colet absentmindedly flips through a menu.

They’ve been sitting there a while, catching up on nothing in particular. It’s the kind of casual hangout they always fall into, easy and predictable. Except today, Mikha isn’t really there.

She has one thing on her mind.

Finally, after letting the conversation drift through meaningless topics, she drops the question.

“So,” she starts, tilting her head toward Colet. “You and Aiah, huh?”

Colet barely reacts. She raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. “What about me and Aiah?”

Mikha shrugs, aiming for casual. “I saw the appreciation post.”

Gwen smirks over the rim of her cup, already sensing where this is going. “Ah, so that’s what this is about.”

Mikha ignores her, eyes still fixed on Colet. “Seemed like a cute little ‘not date’ you had there.”

Colet sighs, setting the menu down. “It wasn’t a date.”

Mikha narrows her eyes, searching for any hesitation, any flicker in Colet’s expression. “You sure about that?”

Colet doesn’t flinch. “Yeah. We’re just friends.”

Mikha hums, but the steadiness in Colet’s voice lands heavier than she expects. It isn’t defensive. It isn’t dismissive. It’s just the truth.

She should feel relieved. But instead, all it does is confirm what she’s been avoiding: if it wasn’t a date, then Aiah isn’t pulling away because of Colet.

She’s pulling away because of her.

Mikha exhales, dragging a hand through her hair.

No more games. No more teasing.

This time, she has to be real.

Later, Mikha sits in her car, parked outside her place, staring blankly at the city lights.

For the first time in a long time, she has no idea what to do.

It’s not that she couldn’t charm Aiah back if she wanted to. She knows the buttons to press, the teasing lines that would draw a reaction, the little games that always put her in control.

But that’s not what she wants anymore.

Because this isn’t a game.

So instead of plotting, she rewinds. She closes her eyes and retraces her steps.

The fake dating stunt.

The high school reunion.

The barangay sleepover.

That one moment in the dark when she said something she never meant for Aiah to hear.

The date she crashed. The fight.

But none of those feel like the break.

Until—

Her mind lands on the street food run.

She remembers how easy it felt. The way they laughed, teased, how it slipped into something dangerously close to real.

And then—

The phone call.

That stupid phone call she ignored.

She sees it clearly now: Aiah letting her guard down all night, only to be reminded, in one careless second, that Mikha Lim is exactly the kind of person she’s been warning herself against from the start.

Mikha grips the wheel tighter.

That was the moment. That was when it started unraveling.

And if she wants to fix it, she has to stop hiding behind the act. No half-truths. No charm. Just her—raw, sincere.

The thought alone terrifies her more than anything else ever has.

Mikha tells herself she isn’t nervous.

She’s done public speeches. Business negotiations. Family dinners with sharks disguised as relatives. Words are her weapon. She always knows what to say.

But now, sitting in her car, staring at the blank notes app on her phone, she has nothing.

She types.

“Aiah, I—”

Backspace.

“Okay, so, I know I can be annoying—”

Backspace.

She tosses her phone onto the passenger seat and groans.

How the hell is she supposed to do this?

She runs both hands through her hair, exhales slow. No games. No teasing. Just talk.

But where does she even start?

Apologize again? Admit she was an idiot for not realizing sooner why Aiah pulled away? Or just… tell the truth?

That she misses her.

That this stopped feeling like a joke a long time ago.

Mikha squeezes the steering wheel until her knuckles ache. Then, with a long breath, she picks up her phone again, closes the notes app, and puts the car in drive.

No more rehearsing. No more second-guessing.

She hesitates for one last second, staring at her own reflection in the rearview mirror.

Then she mutters, almost like a promise: “Okay. No more games.”

And she drives.

Aiah tries to have a normal evening.

She finishes dinner, curls up on the couch with a book in hand, determined not to let her thoughts drift toward anything—or anyone—that will ruin her peace.

But peace is hard to come by lately.

Even now, as she forces herself to focus on the words on the page, something unsettled presses at the edges of her mind.

Or rather, someone.

She sighs, shutting the book with more force than necessary.

It isn’t her fault Mikha has a habit of barging into her life, uninvited and impossible to ignore.

It isn’t her fault that, despite every rational reason to keep her distance, something about Mikha still pulls at her in ways she doesn’t understand.

And it definitely isn’t her fault that avoiding her has felt just as exhausting as being around her.

Aiah leans her head back against the couch, closing her eyes.

She’s fine.

Everything is fine.

And then—

Ding dong.

Her eyes snap open.

The doorbell.

Her stomach twists, irrational and fast.

She pushes herself up, each step to the door heavier than it should be, her heart pounding before she even knows why.

When she opens it, she freezes.

Mikha Lim stands outside the gate, hands shoved in her pockets. No teasing smirk. No playful glint. Just her. Real. Serious.

Aiah grips the edge of the gate, her voice low. “…What are you doing here?”

Mikha swallows, exhales slowly. “Can I talk to you?”

And just like that, Aiah sits stiffly in the passenger seat, arms crossed as she stares out the window.

She hasn’t even processed how she ended up here—again. Trapped inside Mikha’s parked car, the air between them thick with something she refuses to name.

Mikha grips the wheel, staring straight ahead like she’s still gathering the courage to start.

Aiah exhales sharply. “You wanted to talk. So talk.”

Mikha finally turns, jaw tight. “Why are you avoiding me, really?”

Aiah’s fingers twitch, but she keeps her arms crossed. “I told you, I’m not.”

Mikha scoffs, shakes her head. “Aiah.”

Aiah clenches her jaw, refusing to meet her gaze. “I just needed space.”

“From what?” Mikha presses. “From me? Or from whatever it is you’re trying not to feel?”

Aiah’s breath catches.

Mikha sees it.

Her grip on the wheel loosens. Slowly, she exhales. “I messed up, didn’t I?”

Aiah frowns. “What are you talking about?”

Mikha leans back, runs a hand through her hair. “The night at the street food stall,” she says quietly. “That’s when everything changed, right?”

Aiah stills.

Mikha lets out a humorless chuckle. “You let your guard down that night. I saw it. And then—” She gestures vaguely. “One phone call, and you were gone.”

Aiah stays silent, but Mikha presses on.

“I should’ve noticed it sooner,” she admits, her voice raw in a way Aiah has never heard before. “I should’ve known that for someone like you, something like that meant something.”

Aiah swallows, her hands tightening around her arms.

Mikha turns to her fully now, eyes steady. “I wasn’t playing with you, Aiah. Not then. Not now.”

For the first time, Aiah doesn’t see the smirking, untouchable girl everyone else seems to know. She doesn’t see the performer. She just sees Mikha. Unfiltered. Real.

And it terrifies her.

Because if Mikha is being real, then she can’t hide behind assumptions anymore.

She has to admit that maybe she’s the one running.

And she hates how easily Mikha’s words sink in.

Hates how, for a split second, she wants to believe them.

But believing Mikha Lim is dangerous.

Aiah shakes her head, her voice sharp. “You say that now, but what happens when you get bored?”

Mikha frowns. “What?”

“You do this with everyone,” Aiah says, her jaw tight. “You make people feel special, like they’re the only one in the room. But it’s never real, is it?” She lets out a small, bitter laugh. “And I’d be an idiot to think I’m any different.”

Mikha inhales sharply. “That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it?” Aiah shoots back, eyes burning. “You just happened to crash my date? Happened to send isaw to my house for fun? It’s all a game to you, Mikha. And I refuse to be another player.”

Mikha flinches but doesn’t look away.

“This isn’t a game to me,” she says, quiet but firm.

Aiah exhales shakily, pressing her fingers against her temples. She reaches for the door handle.

And then Mikha says, soft but steady, “I don’t get bored of things that matter.”

Aiah freezes.

Her grip tightens on the handle, but she doesn’t pull it open.

Mikha sighs, frustrated but careful. “I know I’ve been careless before. I know I can be—” She stops, swallows. “But I wouldn’t be here, saying all of this, if I didn’t mean it.”

Aiah stays still, her chest tight.

She wants to believe her.

But wanting and trusting are two very different things.

Finally, she lets out a slow breath. “I need time.”

Mikha nods, but her eyes shift, guarded now. “Take all the time you need.”

Aiah opens the door, steps out into the night.

She doesn’t look back.

And neither does Mikha.

Chapter Text

Mikha hasn’t been herself since that night in the car.

At least, that’s what Gwen and Colet immediately pick up on.

She’s distracted—not in the usual I-just-need-a-new-thrill way, but in a way that makes them glance at her twice. She shows up to their hangouts, but her mind is somewhere else. Conversations slip past her. Her easy charm? Gone. Instead of sly remarks, there’s silence.

And Mikha Lim is never silent.

It’s Colet who calls her out first.

They’re sitting in a café when Mikha sighs for the fifth time in ten minutes.

Colet sets her coffee down, leveling her with a look. “Okay. Enough brooding. Spill.”

Mikha blinks up, feigning innocence. “Spill what?”

Gwen doesn’t even look up from her phone. “Whatever’s making you act like a lovesick fool.”

Mikha groans, tipping her head back. “I’m not lovesick.”

“You’re something,” Colet mutters.

Gwen finally lifts her gaze, sharp and knowing. “You talked to Aiah, didn’t you?”

Mikha exhales, staring at her untouched cup. “Yeah.”

“And?”

The word hangs. Mikha rolls the cup between her hands, jaw tightening. “She… pushed back.”

Colet raises an eyebrow. “And that surprised you?”

Mikha hesitates. Her usual quips desert her, words snagging in her throat. Finally, she blurts, low and uneven: “What surprised me is that I actually—” She stops, frustrated at herself.

Gwen leans in, eyes gleaming. “Actually what, Mikha?”

Mikha shuts her eyes briefly, then admits it, each word dragged out like it costs her something: “I actually care.”

Silence.

Then—

“Well, damn.” Gwen leans back, crossing her arms with a smirk. “She finally admits it.”

Colet tilts her head, unreadable. “And now what?”

Mikha laughs without humor. “No clue.” She runs a hand through her hair, restless. “I told her I wouldn’t get bored of things that matter. But what if she still doesn’t believe me?”

Gwen and Colet exchange a glance.

“You know the only way to prove that, right?” Colet says at last.

Mikha looks up. “What, stalk her until she magically trusts me?”

“Be serious.” Colet’s voice sharpens, her gaze steady. “You have to be sure this isn’t just because she’s the first person to say no to you.”

The words hit like a slap.

Mikha bristles, about to protest, but Colet doesn’t give her the chance. “I mean it, Mikha. You’ve built a whole reputation out of charming people, then moving on before things get complicated. If this is just another puzzle you want to solve because she’s difficult, then leave her alone.”

Mikha swallows hard, irritation flaring—but not at Colet. At herself. Because she knows Colet has every reason to say it. The old Mikha would have seen Aiah’s distance as a challenge. Would’ve chased her just to win.

But this isn’t that.

And the fact that even her friends wonder if it is—that stings worse than anything Aiah’s thrown at her.

“I know,” Mikha mutters, voice quieter now. “I know she isn’t just someone to pass the time with.”

Colet studies her, then nods once. “Then prove it.”

The words settle heavy between them.

Mikha slumps forward, fingers pressed against her temple. For once, she doesn’t have a witty deflection. She just exhales, the admission leaving her raw: “I don’t want to mess this up.”

Gwen finally pipes up, grinning like she’s been waiting for the perfect moment. “Look at you. The Mikha Lim, worried about messing something up. Even Dani didn’t make you spiral like this.”

Mikha groans, grabbing a sugar packet and chucking it at her. “Don’t.”

“No, but it’s true,” Gwen presses, smug. “When Dani moved on, you didn’t even blink. But this? You’re pacing, sighing, brooding. It’s hilarious.”

Colet chuckles, shaking her head. “She’s right. This is new. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this… uncertain.”

Mikha exhales, her shoulders sagging. “Yeah, well. I think I finally ran out of games to play.”

Colet raises an eyebrow. “And now?”

Mikha lifts her gaze, something sharper flickering there now. “Now… I figure out what comes after.”

For a beat, neither Gwen nor Colet says anything.

Because they can tell—Mikha means it.

And for once, the girl who always treated life like a performance is stepping off script.

Chapter Text

Aiah sits cross-legged on her bed, phone propped against a pillow as her group call explodes into chaos.

She barely finishes telling them about Mikha showing up at her house when the reactions hit all at once.

Stacey: WHAT.

Maloi: HUH?

Sheena: You went inside her car AGAIN??

Jhoanna: AIAH.

Aiah groans, dragging a hand down her face. “Guys, can we not yell?”

Stacey throws herself back on her couch like she’s fainting in a teleserye. “We’re past yelling. This is intervention level. We need a PowerPoint.”

Jhoanna narrows her eyes, arms crossed. “So let me get this straight. She shows up at your house, takes you into her car, and delivers some heartfelt monologue about not playing games?”

“…Yeah,” Aiah admits, pulling her blanket tighter around her.

Silence.

Then—

Maloi lets out the loudest scoff. “And you believed her?”

Aiah opens her mouth. Closes it. “I—I don’t know!”

Sheena shakes her head, pragmatic as ever. “She’s Mikha Lim, Aiah. She is literally built on mind games.”

“And even if she does mean it in the moment,” Jhoanna adds, her voice steadier but firm, “that doesn’t mean she won’t get bored later. You know her reputation.”

Aiah’s stomach twists. That had been her biggest fear, too.

“I just—” She sighs. “So you guys think she’s messing with me?”

Maloi tilts her head, less sharp now but still blunt. “…We think she could be.”

“She’s been with other people before,” Sheena points out. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

Aiah exhales, pressing her fingers against her temple. She came to them for clarity, but instead she feels worse. Because the truth is, they’re not wrong.

Mikha Lim has been careless. She’s charmed people without meaning to, played around without realizing the fallout. And Aiah had promised herself she wouldn’t be one of them.

But what if she already is?

She flops back against her pillows, staring at the ceiling. Her friends’ faces flicker on the screen, four different flavors of concern.

Stacey finally breaks the silence with a dramatic sigh. “Look, sis, if you insist on getting in that girl’s car, at least drop a pin next time so we can rescue you.”

Maloi cackles. “Tracker. I’m voting for tracker.”

“Not helping,” Aiah mutters, cheeks heating.

Jhoanna softens a little. “We’re not saying she can’t mean it, Aiah. Just… be careful, okay? Protect yourself first.”

That lands heavier than anything else.

Aiah nods mutely, then ends the call, letting the room fall quiet again.

She stares at her darkened screen. Their skepticism echoes the same doubts she’s carried all along.

What if Mikha is just playing with her?

What if she’s just another name on the list?

What if none of this is real?

Aiah groans, pressing her palms against her eyes. She hates this—hates feeling uncertain, hates how Mikha has slipped past walls she’s spent years building.

She turns on her side, clutching her blanket, replaying the car conversation in her mind: Mikha’s voice stripped of its usual lilt, the way she said it like it cost her something—I don’t get bored of things that matter.

Was that real?

Or just another line she thought Aiah wanted to hear?

Aiah exhales slowly, whispering to no one, “God, I’m pathetic.”

Because no matter how hard she tries to shove the thought away, Mikha’s words won’t leave her.

They linger.

They dig in.

They refuse to let her go.

And Aiah hates that part of her—the part she doesn’t want to admit exists—almost hopes they’re true.

Chapter Text

Aiah convinces herself that Mikha will back off.

That after their last conversation, Mikha will take the hint and let this fade out—just like everyone expects her to.

But then, Mikha does something Aiah doesn’t see coming.

She shows up.

Not in an obnoxious, attention-seeking, look-who’s-back kind of way. Not even in a playful, just-happened-to-be-here kind of way.

No.

She shows up for real.

Aiah is at her outreach program again, helping coordinate logistics, when one of the volunteers casually mentions, “Aiah, that friend of yours is here again.”

Aiah blinks. “Who?”

The volunteer gestures toward the far side of the venue, and Aiah’s stomach drops.

Mikha.

She’s standing there, not in her usual effortless, too-cool-for-this attire, but in a simple shirt, jeans, and sneakers, carrying boxes of supplies like she belongs there.

And she’s not alone.

Gwen and Colet are with her, but it’s Mikha who catches Aiah’s eye—Mikha, who is actually helping without trying to make a scene.

Aiah’s grip tightens around the clipboard she’s holding.

This… this isn’t the move she expects.

She doesn’t move.

She just stands there, clipboard in hand, watching as Mikha—Mikha Lim—unloads supplies like she’s done this a hundred times before.

No cameras. No grand entrance. No Hey, babe! to catch her off guard.

Just… Mikha.

She lifts a heavy box with ease, setting it down with the others before dusting her hands off on her jeans. Then, without needing to be told, she grabs another.

Aiah narrows her eyes.

It would be easier if Mikha had been her usual self—if she strutted in with that smug smirk, making some teasing comment about looking good in volunteer work.

Then, Aiah could write this off as another one of Mikha’s little games.

But this?

This isn’t showy or self-serving.

This is quiet. Intentional. Deliberate.

And that terrifies Aiah more than anything.

Because it means Mikha isn’t just here to mess with her.

She’s here for real.

And Aiah doesn’t know what to do with that.

She’s still debating whether to walk away or confront Mikha when—

“Ate Mikha!”

A small voice rings out from the side.

Aiah’s breath catches as she turns just in time to see a young girl—one of the kids from their last outreach—grinning as she barrels toward Mikha, her little hands grabbing onto Mikha’s wrist like she’s just found her favorite person in the world.

Mikha looks momentarily startled before a genuine smile breaks across her face.

“Hey, Mae,” she greets, crouching slightly to be at eye level. “You remember me?”

The little girl nods enthusiastically. “You said you’d come back!”

Mikha chuckles. “I did, didn’t I?”

And then—before Aiah can even think about escaping—

The girl turns, spots her, and squeals, “Ate Aiah! Ate Aiah! Look who’s here!”

Aiah barely has time to react before the child does the unthinkable. She grabs Mikha’s hand with one tiny fist, Aiah’s with the other—

And pulls.

Pulls them together.

With the strength of a self-appointed matchmaker, no less.

Aiah freezes.

For a second, all she can focus on is the sudden warmth of Mikha’s hand against hers, the way Mikha doesn’t immediately let go.

The kid beams up at them like she’s just orchestrated the reunion of the century. “Now you can help together!”

By the time Aiah snaps back to reality, Mikha is already watching her, expression unreadable.

Something unspoken passes between them—something that feels heavier than Aiah is ready for.

And just like that, she realizes:

She isn’t getting out of this moment.

Not this time.

Mikha is the first to speak.

“Hey,” she says, her voice softer than Aiah expects. “I know this is unexpected. I probably should’ve told you first before showing up.”

Aiah swallows, still painfully aware of the kid’s tiny grip still linking them together.

Mikha gently pries her hand free but doesn’t step away. “I’m not here to cause chaos, I promise.”

Aiah narrows her eyes slightly. “That’s a first.”

Mikha huffs a small laugh, rubbing the back of her neck. “Fair. But seriously, Gwen told me about this, and I—” She hesitates for a split second before exhaling. “I just thought it was something worth showing up for.”

Aiah stares at her.

There’s no teasing in her tone. No mischief in her expression.

Just Mikha.

And that unsettles Aiah more than any flirtation ever has.

The kid between them beams up at Aiah, bouncing a little on her toes. “Ate Mikha’s gonna help, right? Right?”

Mikha glances down at the girl and gives a small nod. “Yeah. If Ate Aiah lets me.”

Aiah sighs, pressing her fingers against her temple. “You’re already here, aren’t you?”

Mikha’s lips quirk slightly. “I am.”

Aiah exhales. “Fine. Just—don’t get in the way.”

Mikha grins, something almost victorious flickering in her eyes. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

The little girl claps her hands, delighted with herself, and scampers off—clearly convinced she just saved the day.

Aiah isn’t sure she believes that.

But for now, she lets it slide.

Because no matter how much she wants to keep running, Mikha Lim has once again found her way back into her orbit.

And this time, Aiah doesn’t know if she has the energy to fight it.

Chapter Text

Aiah keeps her distance at first.

She focuses on coordinating tasks, ticking boxes off her clipboard, telling herself that Mikha Lim is not her problem.

But the problem with Mikha is that she doesn’t need to be a problem to be a distraction.

Because even when Aiah isn’t looking, she feels her.

The way Mikha carries boxes like she has something to prove. The way she crouches down to talk to the kids, listening with a patience Aiah never expected. The way she somehow fits in despite sticking out.

It’s annoying.

And worse?

It’s working.

Aiah finds herself watching too long—long enough to start questioning things she doesn’t want to question.

And then something happens she can’t ignore.

It’s so small she almost misses it.

She’s reviewing a supply list when a loud crash makes her head snap up.

Across the venue, a boy no older than six stands frozen near a pile of toppled canned goods. His little hands tremble, his face paling as tears prick his eyes. The staff nearby hesitate, unsure whether to scold or comfort.

Before Aiah can move—

Mikha does.

She kneels down, calm, picking up a can like it’s nothing. “Wow, bud,” she says with a playful whistle. “That’s a pretty dramatic way to reorganize the supplies.”

The boy sniffles, voice small. “I—I didn’t mean to—”

Mikha shakes her head. “Hey, no big deal. You know what this means, right?”

He blinks, confused.

Mikha grins. “We get to build a canned goods tower. You in?”

There’s a pause. Then slowly, he nods.

She hands him a can, showing him how to stack it. Within seconds, the tears are gone, replaced by a determined focus as he carefully balances the tower.

And Aiah—

Aiah feels something shift.

Because this isn’t for show.

There are no cameras, no audience, no one to impress.

Mikha just acts. Without thinking. Without hesitation.

Like she cares.

The realization slams into Aiah harder than she’s ready for.

She has spent weeks convincing herself Mikha Lim is exactly who she thought she was:

Carefree.

Flirtatious.

A red flag wrapped in a perfect smile.

Someone who never cared.

But here—crouched down beside a little boy, patient, kind—Mikha doesn’t look like the danger Aiah has been running from.

She looks real.

And suddenly Aiah hates the way her chest tightens, because if this is real, then maybe she’s been wrong all this time.

She swallows hard and forces her gaze away, heart pounding too fast.

When she turns back to her clipboard, she can’t focus on the words.

Not when Mikha’s voice is still in her head.

Not when the thought keeps circling back: What if she’s not who I thought she was?

“Aiah! We need an extra hand over here!”

A fellow volunteer waves her over near the stacked supplies.

“One of the bins got jammed—we need to move these first.”

Aiah nods, stepping forward—only to realize too late that someone else is already reaching for the same box.

Mikha.

Their hands brush as they both grip the side, and Aiah’s stomach flips.

For a moment, neither of them moves. Their eyes meet.

Aiah sees the dust on Mikha’s jeans, the faint sheen of sweat on her brow, the steadiness in her hands. She’s still here. Still helping. Still proving Aiah wrong in ways she doesn’t want to admit.

Mikha’s lips part like she might say something—but instead she lets out a small chuckle, shaking her head. “You always trying to one-up me?”

Aiah snaps back, pulling her hand away. “Just do your job, Mikha Lim.”

Mikha smirks but doesn’t push. She just hefts the box aside, too easily.

Aiah exhales, forcing herself to refocus.

But as they fall into rhythm, working side by side, their movements syncing without meaning to, she can’t silence the nagging thought.

No matter how much she wants to fight it… Mikha is getting closer.

And she isn’t sure if she wants to stop her anymore.

Mikha hadn’t planned to stay long.

At least, that’s what she told herself when Gwen and Colet dragged her here. She figured she’d help a little, just see Aiah, then leave before things got serious.

But hours pass.

And she’s still here. Actually enjoying it.

And she’s watching.

Watching how Aiah belongs here—how she laughs with Colet, how she keeps things moving, how the volunteers look to her like she’s the steady one.

Mikha feels like the outsider.

Like Aiah has always belonged here more than she ever could.

Damn.

She rakes a hand through her hair, pulse quickening. She needs to do something. Something bold. Something stupid enough to make Aiah stop pretending she doesn’t feel this too.

And then, as if the universe is her wingman, Gwen pipes up. “Uy, we’re getting street food after this, right?”

Aiah snorts. “You literally ate fifteen minutes ago.”

“I could eat again,” Gwen grins.

Colet laughs. “Sounds like a plan. Aiah, you in?”

Before Aiah can answer, Mikha cuts in.

“She’s already coming with me.”

Silence.

Aiah blinks, staring. “What?”

Mikha shrugs, casual, hands in her pockets. “You owe me.”

Aiah sputters. “For what?”

Mikha raises an eyebrow. “You don’t remember? That box was way too heavy for you.”

“That’s not how this works—”

“Too late.” Mikha is already walking away, voice lazy but her heartbeat racing. “I’m cashing it in.”

Aiah groans, rubbing her temples. “Unbelievable.”

Gwen and Colet exchange amused looks.

“At least she’s consistent,” Colet says.

Aiah sighs in defeat.

Because no matter how much she wants to fight it… she knows she’s going.

And Mikha knows it too.

Only this time, it isn’t just a game.

This time, Mikha’s claiming her on purpose.

Chapter Text

The night air is warm, carrying the familiar scent of grilled meat, smoke, and spices as Aiah and Mikha weave through the bustling street food strip.

Too familiar.

The last time they were here, something shifted between them. And now, here they are again—like the universe is testing Aiah, daring her to slip twice.

Mikha looks as relaxed as ever. Hands in her pockets, strolling with that maddening smug energy Aiah pretends doesn’t get to her.

But this time, she’s ready.

She’s not going to let Mikha throw her off.

She’s not—

“You’re overthinking again,” Mikha cuts in, smirking.

Aiah frowns. “Excuse me?”

“You get this face,” Mikha says, tilting her head. “Like you’re trying really hard not to be affected by me.”

Aiah scoffs, rolling her eyes. “You’re imagining things.”

“Am I?” Mikha stops at a stall selling isaw, betamax, and adidas. “Or are you just in denial?”

“Denial of what, exactly?”

“That you’re enjoying this.”

Aiah exhales sharply. Not playing this game. Absolutely not.

“You know what, Mikha?” She grabs a stick of isaw from the stall, hands it to her. “Here. Payment.”

Mikha raises an eyebrow. “Payment?”

“You keep saying I owe you,” Aiah says with a smirk. “Consider this debt settled.”

Mikha grins slowly. “Oh? That’s how we’re playing it?”

Aiah shrugs. “You said you’re cashing in. I’m just returning the favor.”

Mikha twirls the isaw stick in her fingers, then leans in just a fraction too close. “Careful, Aiah. You might actually start enjoying paying me back.”

Aiah’s grip on her own stick tightens. She’s not going to react. She’s—

Mikha bites into the isaw, chews once, and immediately grimaces.

Aiah bursts out laughing.

Mikha coughs, eyes wide. “What the—Why is it so much chewier than I remember?!”

Aiah leans against the stall for support, laughing so hard she can’t breathe. “That’s because it’s half-cooked, you idiot!”

Mikha glares, fake-offended, still chewing like her life depends on it. Aiah wipes a tear from her eye, handing her a water bottle.

“You’re so weak,” she says between laughs.

Mikha snatches the bottle, unscrewing the cap with unnecessary drama. “I just wasn’t prepared for the betrayal. I trusted you, and you led me to the worst isaw in existence.”

Aiah smirks. “Please. If I hadn’t said anything, you’d be hyping it up just to save face.”

“Me? That much pride?” Mikha deadpans.

“I know you do.”

Mikha pauses, then grins. “Okay, fair.”

The crowd hums around them—grills sizzling, vendors calling out—but the two of them move in their own bubble, the tension softer, easier than it’s been in weeks. Somewhere between the bad isaw and Mikha’s exaggerated near-death act, Aiah relaxes.

Because for once, Mikha isn’t pushing.

She isn’t turning every moment into a performance.

She’s just… here.

And that unsettles Aiah more than any game ever did.

They end up at a taho stall, and Mikha perks up instantly. “Now this,” she declares, “this is safe.”

Aiah chuckles, ordering two cups. “For someone who brags about being cultured and well-traveled, you’re awfully picky about street food.”

“I have standards,” Mikha says, sipping.

“You have trust issues,” Aiah shoots back.

Mikha gasps dramatically, pressing a hand to her chest. “Wow. Attacked.”

“Just saying.”

Mikha hums, stirring the syrup into her taho. But then… the playfulness fades. Just a fraction.

“I don’t actually have trust issues,” she says lightly, almost too lightly. Then, quieter: “It’s just… people don’t usually stick around.”

The words slip out like she didn’t mean to say them. Casual on the surface, but Aiah feels the truth beneath them.

She stills.

Mikha takes another spoonful of taho, trying to play it off. “It’s easier not to expect them to.”

Aiah’s grip on her cup tightens.

There it is again—that glimpse of something real. The part Mikha never lets anyone see.

She should laugh it off. Change the subject. Pretend she didn’t hear.

But instead, before she can stop herself, Aiah murmurs—soft, almost defiant—

“…Not everyone leaves.”

Mikha looks at her. And for the first time, Aiah doesn’t look away.

The night crowd keeps moving, neon lights buzzing, grills hissing—but for them, the world goes quiet.

Just two cups of taho.

Just two people sitting across from each other.

And for once, no games.

Chapter Text

Aiah has always been good at compartmentalizing.

She knows how to tuck away feelings that don’t serve her, how to set boundaries between herself and things that threaten her peace.

And yet, as she lies in bed later that night, staring at the ceiling, she can’t compartmentalize this.

She can’t shake the memory of Mikha at the outreach, sweat dripping down the back of her neck, working alongside everyone else like she belongs there.

She can’t forget the way Mikha looks at her over street food, with no teasing, no agenda—just quiet certainty.

And she definitely can’t stop hearing those words in her head.

“People don’t usually stick around.”

“Not everyone leaves.”

Aiah exhales, rolling onto her side.

She has spent so long trying to resist Mikha, convinced that if she gives her an inch, Mikha will take a mile and leave her in the dust when she gets bored.

But now…

Now, Mikha isn’t playing a game.

She isn’t trying to win.

She’s just showing up.

Again.

And again.

And again.

And Aiah doesn’t know what to do with that.

Because for the first time—the very first time—she isn’t sure if she wants to keep pushing her away.

Aiah spends the entire morning convincing herself that last night was nothing.

That she isn’t thinking about Mikha more than usual.

That she isn’t replaying that moment with the taho over and over in her head.

That she isn’t letting Mikha get under her skin.

It’s fine.

Everything is fine.

Until Mikha makes another move.

It starts with a delivery.

Aiah is halfway through setting up at the outreach site again when a staff member calls her name.

“Aiah! You’ve got something at the front.”

Confused, she wipes her hands on a towel and makes her way to the entrance.

The moment she sees the delivery guy holding a brown bag and a familiar takeout container, her stomach drops.

“Delivery for Aiah Arceta?” the man asks, reading from his phone.

Aiah’s eye twitches.

She already knows. She already knows.

She grabs the bag, sighing. “Let me guess—”

Before she can even finish, her phone buzzes.

Mikha: I know you hadn’t eaten anything after the street food run last night, so make sure to eat that. Okay?

Aiah stares at the message, then at the bag, then back at the message.

Unbelievable.

She isn’t going to text Mikha back.

She isn’t.

She’s going to eat this food like a normal person and move on with her life.

That’s the plan.

But then, later in the day, while she’s sitting on a bench scrolling mindlessly through her phone, Mikha makes her presence known again.

Through Gwen.

A photo pops up on her feed—Mikha, Gwen, and Colet, hanging out together at a café.

Mikha, looking unbothered as ever.

Gwen, captioning it with a casual: “Missing Aiah (mostly Mikha).”

Aiah grits her teeth.

Why? Why does Mikha always have to be everywhere?

Why does it feel like she’s so effortlessly woven into Aiah’s life, like she has always been there?

And why—why does it feel like Aiah is the one who’s trying too hard not to belong in hers?

Her fingers hover over the keyboard, hesitating.

Because this isn’t nothing.

And maybe… it never has been.

Aiah doesn’t know why she’s texting Mikha.

Maybe it’s because of the food delivery.

Maybe it’s because Mikha somehow manages to be everywhere, all the time.

Maybe it’s because no matter how much she tries to push her away, Mikha never leaves.

Or maybe—just maybe—Aiah is tired of running.

Her fingers hesitate over the keyboard before she finally types out the message.

Aiah: I’m going back to Manila next week.

She hits send before she can overthink it.

A few seconds pass.

Then—

Mikha is typing…

Aiah stares at the screen, heart pounding for reasons she doesn’t want to name.

Finally, the message comes through.

Mikha: Oh.

Aiah exhales, not sure what she expected.

Then—

Mikha: That soon?

Aiah: Yeah.

Another pause.

Mikha: Right.

For some reason, the short responses make Aiah’s chest feel tight.

Mikha is never at a loss for words.

And yet, now?

Aiah bites her lip, debating what to say next.

But before she can type anything, another message appears.

Mikha: So, does that mean I have one more week to change your mind about me?

Aiah freezes.

Her fingers hover over the keyboard, pulse racing.

Because no matter how much she wants to pretend otherwise…

She already knows the answer.

And maybe Mikha does, too.

Mikha stares at her phone, rereading Aiah’s message at least three times.

“I’m going back to Manila next week.”

The words sit heavy in her chest, heavier than they should.

She knows—of course she knows—that Aiah isn’t in Cebu permanently.

But seeing it in text? Knowing the countdown has officially started?

That’s different.

That’s real.

And for the first time in a long time, Mikha feels something she isn’t used to feeling.

Panic.

Because one week? That isn’t enough.

Not enough to say everything she hasn’t said yet.

Not enough to prove that she isn’t just playing around.

Not enough to make Aiah stay.

But Mikha has never been the type to sit around and do nothing.

So if all she has is one week—

She’s going to make every second count.

Her fingers tap against the desk as she runs through possibilities.

She needs a plan.

Not some half-assed attempt to win Aiah over.

No.

Something real.

Something that makes Aiah see her—truly see her—without all the noise.

Mikha leans back, exhaling slowly.

This has to be big.

This has to be unforgettable.

And by the end of it…

Aiah won’t just see why Mikha wants her to stay.

She’ll start wanting to stay, too.

Mikha knows exactly what she has to do.

No grand gestures.

No elaborate distractions.

No carefully crafted games.

Just her.

The parts no one else gets to see.

If she wants Aiah to believe her—really believe her—she has to stop hiding.

So she grabs her phone, pulls up Aiah’s chat, and types:

Mikha: Be ready at 5 PM tomorrow.

The “Seen” comes instantly.

Then—

Aiah: For what?

Mikha smiles, fingers hovering over the keyboard before she finally types:

Mikha: Just trust me.

The next day, as the sun dips low over the city, Aiah sits in Mikha’s car, eyebrows furrowed as she tries to figure out what the hell is happening.

“You’re being weird,” Aiah mutters, glancing at her.

Mikha keeps her eyes on the road, only grinning. “Define weird.”

“You’re not even teasing me.”

Mikha chuckles. “Maybe I’m evolving.”

Aiah huffs. “Doubt it.”

The drive continues in quiet, the tension of the past few weeks strangely absent. When they finally pull into a secluded spot—high above the city, overlooking Cebu’s skyline—Aiah’s curiosity spikes.

She steps out, the soft evening breeze tugging at her hair as she turns to Mikha.

“…Why are we here?”

Mikha leans against the hood of her car, gaze fixed on the view.

“I don’t bring people here,” she says simply.

Aiah blinks. “What?”

Mikha runs a hand through her hair, exhaling. “This place—it’s mine. The one place I come to when I need to… breathe.” She lets out a soft laugh. “I don’t really share it.”

Aiah frowns slightly, stepping closer. “Then why are you sharing it with me?”

Mikha turns then, her expression unreadable.

“Because you’re not people, Aiah.”

Silence.

The words hang between them, heavy and unspoken, as Aiah stares at her.

This isn’t a game.

This isn’t Mikha Lim—the girl everyone wants but no one ever keeps.

This is just Mikha.

Raw. Open. Real.

And for the first time…

Aiah doesn’t know if she can walk away from that.

Chapter Text

Aiah should say something.

She should respond—throw a sarcastic remark, roll her eyes, pretend Mikha’s words haven’t just knocked the air out of her chest.

But she can’t.

Because this isn’t the Mikha Lim she has spent weeks trying to figure out.

This isn’t the frustratingly charming, effortlessly smooth woman who plays mind games with people’s hearts like it’s a sport.

This is just Mikha.

Stripped of the usual teasing, the usual walls, the usual distractions.

And for the first time, Aiah feels something that terrifies her.

She believes her.

She believes that Mikha doesn’t bring people here.

She believes that this isn’t just another game.

She believes that, somehow, she has become an exception.

And Aiah doesn’t know what to do with that.

She crosses her arms, gripping them tightly—a subconscious act of defense. “Why are you doing this?”

Mikha tilts her head. “Doing what?”

“This.” Aiah gestures vaguely. “The whole… showing me things you don’t show other people. The not playing around. The—” She exhales sharply. “The making me think that you actually—”

She stops before she can say it.

Before she can say care.

But Mikha has already caught it.

Her gaze softens. “Because I do.”

Aiah’s breath hitches.

Because it’s so simple.

So effortless, so matter-of-fact—like Mikha has known this long before Aiah ever let herself consider the possibility.

Aiah swallows hard, pulse pounding in her ears. “Mikha…”

Mikha just holds her gaze. Patient. Waiting.

Giving her the space to run—or to finally, finally stay.

And Aiah…

Aiah isn’t sure which one scares her more.

She has spent so long holding herself back. Convincing herself Mikha is a red flag, a mistake waiting to happen, a storm she can’t afford to get caught in.

And yet—

Here she is, standing at the edge of something undeniably real, feeling her carefully built walls start to crumble.

She exhales slowly, arms still crossed. But this time… she isn’t guarding herself.

This time, she’s trying to figure out how to let Mikha in.

“I don’t…” Aiah hesitates, struggling to find the words. “I don’t know how to do this.”

Mikha tilts her head, eyes steady. “Do what?”

“This.” Aiah exhales sharply. “Trusting you.”

Mikha’s face doesn’t fall. She doesn’t get frustrated.

She just nods.

Like she expects this.

Like she’s willing to wait.

“I get it,” Mikha murmurs.

Aiah looks away, the emotions too much, too big. “I’ve spent so much time thinking you were just—” She cuts herself off, shaking her head. “That this was just another game to you.”

Mikha stays silent. Lets her speak.

“But then you keep doing things like this,” Aiah whispers. “And it’s messing with everything I thought I knew.”

She turns back to Mikha then, meeting her gaze—really meeting it, without the layers of resistance.

“And I don’t know how to handle that.”

Mikha studies her for a long moment before finally speaking.

“You don’t have to.”

Aiah’s breath catches.

Mikha takes a slow step closer. “You don’t have to figure it all out right now.”

Aiah swallows. “Then what do I do?”

Mikha smiles—soft, patient, nothing like the teasing smirks from before.

“You let me prove it to you.”

Something in Aiah’s chest cracks open.

She wants to run.

She wants to push away, protect herself, cling to the safety of denial.

But instead—for the first time—

She lets herself stay.

She lets herself want this.

She lets herself believe that maybe Mikha isn’t the person she has convinced herself she is.

And that is the scariest part of all.

Chapter Text

Aiah expects things to feel different after last night.

She lets her guard down, lets herself be vulnerable, lets Mikha’s words settle into a space in her chest she isn’t sure will ever be empty again.

What she doesn’t expect is Mikha’s text the next morning:

Mikha: Be ready by noon. Wear something comfortable.

Aiah blinks at the message, sitting up in bed.

Aiah: For what?

Mikha: Just trust me.

The same words Mikha has used before.

And damn it, Aiah listens.

That’s how she ends up in Mikha’s car again, this time driving farther from the city, past quiet roads lined with old trees and sprawling family estates.

Aiah frowns, side-eyeing her. “Are you planning to murder me in the province?”

Mikha snorts, shaking her head. “Aiah, if I wanted to get rid of you, I’d at least do it in style.”

Aiah rolls her eyes. “Comforting.”

Mikha smirks but doesn’t add anything else.

Eventually, the car slows as they pull into a large ancestral home—old wooden panels, sprawling gardens, a warmth that feels lived in.

Aiah’s brows knit. “Where are we?”

Mikha puts the car in park and finally turns to her. “My grandparents’ house.”

Aiah blinks. “What?”

Mikha exhales, meeting her gaze. “They’re the ones who raised me.”

Aiah’s stomach twists. “Mikha, I—”

Mikha cuts her off gently. “I wanted you to meet them.”

Aiah opens her mouth, then closes it.

Because this? This isn’t casual.

This isn’t something you do for someone who’s just a passing moment in your life.

This is real.

And Aiah forgets how to breathe properly knowing that.

Still, Mikha holds her gaze—open, steady, completely serious.

“I told you I wasn’t playing, Aiah,” she murmurs. “And I meant it.”

Aiah swallows hard.

Because she knows—without a doubt—that Mikha Lim isn’t just asking her to stay in Cebu.

She’s asking for so much more.

Aiah has met parents before. She has shaken hands, smiled politely, survived small talk with relatives of past dates—relationships that never stuck.

But this?

This is Mikha Lim’s family.

And not just any part of her family—her grandparents, the ones who raised her. The ones whose names carry weight in Cebu’s history, who are known in business circles yet remain low-profile, living quietly in the background.

And now Aiah is about to meet them.

She wipes her sweaty palms against her jeans as Mikha leads her through intricately carved wooden doors into the ancestral house.

Inside, it’s exactly what she expects—old-world charm, understated elegance. Wooden beams stretch across the ceiling, antique furniture gleams with care, and the faint aroma of brewed tea lingers in the air.

“Mikha, anak, is that you?”

Aiah turns toward the voice, her stomach flipping as an elderly woman steps into view.

Small in stature but regal in presence, she carries herself with quiet authority. Her sharp eyes assess Aiah in an instant—not unkind, just curious.

Mikha smiles. “Hi, Ama.”

Aiah nearly chokes on air.

Before she can fully process it, an older man follows, dressed in a crisp button-down, looking at Mikha with a mix of fondness and scrutiny.

Her Angkong.

Aiah feels paralyzed.

Ama’s gaze shifts. “And who is this?”

Mikha doesn’t hesitate. She turns to Aiah with a small smile.

“Someone very special to me.”

Aiah forgets how to breathe.

Ama’s lips twitch. “Well, anyone special to our Mikha is welcome here.”

Aiah exhales a breath she doesn’t realize she’s holding.

They move into the dining area, a space grand yet homey, golden afternoon light spilling through tall windows.

Angkong takes his seat at the head of the table, quiet but observant. Ama pours tea for everyone, her movements graceful, deliberate.

“You seem nervous,” Ama comments, handing Aiah a cup.

Aiah almost drops it. “Oh—I, um. Just a little po.”

Mikha bites back a grin.

Ama’s eyes glimmer with curiosity.

Angkong studies her. “Mikha tells us you work in media.”

Aiah nods. “Yes, po. Mostly editorial work, but I’m also involved in outreach programs.”

Ama hums. “That’s admirable. What kind of outreach?”

“Education and livelihood in rural areas, po,” Aiah explains. “It started small, but we’ve been expanding.”

Angkong nods. “Good. It’s important to give back.”

Ama smiles knowingly. “You must have a big heart, Aiah. Not everyone chooses this kind of work.”

Aiah tenses. Compliment or deeper meaning?

Ama turns to Mikha. “You’re spending time with good company, then?”

Mikha doesn’t miss a beat. “The best, Ama.”

Aiah nearly chokes again.

Ama chuckles. “You must really be special, Aiah. Our Mikha doesn’t usually bring people home.”

“She doesn’t?”

“No,” Angkong says simply. “Friends, yes—Nicolette and Gweneth, sometimes. But not like this.”

Aiah’s heart skips.

She risks a glance at Mikha—who, for once, has no smirk.

Just quiet certainty.

And suddenly, Aiah realizes this isn’t just an introduction.

This is Mikha showing her a part of herself no one else gets to see.

The conversation continues, but the weight of Mikha’s words—someone very special to me—sits heavy in Aiah’s chest.

Ama refills her tea cup. “You two seem to get along well.”

Aiah freezes.

Mikha smirks. “I’d say so, yeah.”

Ama turns to Aiah, warm but assessing. “And what do you think of our Mikha?”

Aiah almost knocks over her cup.

She knows this is a test. A subtle but important one.

Her answer will tell them everything about how she sees their granddaughter.

She swallows, glancing briefly at Mikha—who watches her with smug amusement.

Aiah steadies herself.

“I think Mikha is someone people assume they’ve figured out, when in reality… there’s so much more to her than she lets them see.”

Mikha stills.

Ama and Angkong exchange a glance.

Aiah exhales, setting her tea down. “She’s reckless sometimes, and definitely insufferable,” she adds, shooting Mikha a look. “But she cares. More than she wants people to realize.”

Mikha says nothing.

For once, she has no comeback.

Ama chuckles softly. “It seems you understand her better than most.”

Aiah doesn’t know what to say to that.

But she knows this—she isn’t ready to admit that maybe, just maybe, she has been wrong about Mikha Lim all along.

The ride back is quiet.

Not uncomfortable silence, but silence that feels too full, too heavy with unspoken things.

Mikha drives, one hand on the wheel, the other tapping against her knee like she’s restraining herself from reaching out. Aiah sits beside her, arms crossed, staring out the window but seeing nothing.

Her thoughts are too loud.

Mikha’s grandparents have been warm, welcoming, far too observant.

And then there’s Mikha—who introduced her as someone very special.

The words echo in her head.

And the worst part?

She doesn’t hate it.

She should. She should panic, create distance, remind herself why she tried so hard not to fall into Mikha’s orbit.

But instead, she sits here.

Next to Mikha Lim.

On the way home from a family dinner that feels too real.

And she lets it happen.

They pull up outside her house. The engine hums softly.

Neither moves.

The air inside the car feels charged.

Mikha finally breaks the silence. “So.” She leans back, drumming her fingers on the wheel. “Was that as terrifying as you thought?”

Aiah lets out a short laugh. “Honestly? Less terrifying. More… eye-opening.”

Mikha turns to her. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Aiah runs a hand through her hair, then frowns. “You didn’t tell me I was the first person you brought home.”

Mikha shrugs, casual. “Would it have changed anything if I did?”

Aiah doesn’t answer.

Because yes—it would have.

Mikha sighs, fingers tapping restlessly. “I wasn’t trying to corner you. I just… wanted you to see that side of me.”

Aiah narrows her eyes. “Why?”

“Because I want you to understand I don’t do this kind of thing, Aiah.”

Her voice is quiet now.

“I don’t just introduce people to them. I don’t bring people into that part of my life unless I actually…” She exhales. “Unless I actually mean it.”

Aiah swallows.

She feels it—the weight of Mikha’s words, the raw honesty behind them.

And it’s dangerous.

Because this isn’t flirtation anymore.

It isn’t a game.

It isn’t a thrill.

It’s real.

And she doesn’t know if she’s ready.

But as she meets Mikha’s gaze—steady, waiting, hopeful—she knows one thing: Mikha isn’t forcing her. She isn’t demanding an answer.

She’s just asking Aiah to see her.

And for once, Aiah lets herself look.

They sit there, suspended in silence. Too heavy. Too charged.

Aiah should get out. Say goodnight. Put space between them before she does something reckless.

But she doesn’t.

Because Mikha hasn’t moved either.

And that feels like a reason to stay.

Mikha exhales, elbow resting on the window, fingers tracing idle patterns against the wheel. She glances at Aiah, eyes like she’s figuring something out.

Then—she moves.

Not abruptly. Not cornering.

Just slowly, carefully.

She reaches into the console, pulls out a small box. Plain, unassuming. Personal.

She hesitates for a beat, then holds it out.

Aiah blinks. “What’s this?”

Mikha’s lips twitch—not teasing. “Just take it.”

Aiah takes the box, fingers brushing Mikha’s for a second. She swears Mikha’s breath hitches.

She opens it, bracing for—she doesn’t even know what.

But it isn’t jewelry. It isn’t extravagant.

It’s a small, folded piece of paper.

Handwritten.

Aiah,

I’m not really good at saying things the right way, and I don’t know how to make you believe me yet, but—I mean this.

I meant it when I told my grandparents you were special.

I meant it when I told you I don’t do this with anyone else.

I meant it when I said I wasn’t playing.

I don’t expect you to trust me completely—not yet.

But if you let me, I’ll prove it to you.

—Mikha

Aiah’s throat closes.

She doesn’t have to be ready all at once.

She just has to stay.

For now.

Chapter Text

The plan is Gwen’s idea.

Or at least, that’s what Mikha claims when she messages Aiah the day after the dinner with her grandparents.

Mikha: Pack your bags, Aiah. We’re going camping.

Aiah: Excuse me?

Mikha: It’s your farewell trip.

Aiah: I didn’t ask for a farewell trip.

Mikha: Well, you’re getting one.

Aiah: And whose idea was this?

Mikha: Gwen’s. Obviously.

Aiah half-considers calling Gwen to confirm, but honestly? She isn’t surprised.

Camping.

With Mikha, Colet, and Gwen.

For a whole night.

No distractions. No escape. Just the four of them in the middle of nowhere.

And somehow, she agrees.

The drive is longer than she expects—three hours out of the city, winding up into the mountains where the air turns crisp and the signal fades.

Mikha is driving, as usual. Colet sits in the passenger seat, playing DJ, while Aiah and Gwen bicker in the backseat about camping gear.

“Aiah, what is that?” Gwen asks, pointing to the small, clearly unused sleeping bag at Aiah’s feet.

“A sleeping bag?” Aiah frowns. “What’s wrong with it?”

Colet snorts. “You do realize it’s going to be cold up there, right?”

“It’s insulated,” Aiah insists.

Mikha glances at her through the rearview mirror, grinning. “It’s also thin as hell. You’re going to freeze.”

“Okay, Miss I’ve-Been-Camping-Before, what do you suggest?”

Mikha’s grin widens. “Guess you’ll just have to share with me.”

Colet lets out an obnoxiously loud cough. Gwen mutters something under her breath.

Aiah ignores them.

“This is already a mistake,” she mumbles, slouching against the window.

Mikha chuckles. “Too late to back out now.”

And somehow, Aiah doesn’t want to.

By the time they arrive, the sun has dipped low, painting the mountains in soft orange light.

They set up camp in a clearing overlooking the valley, pitching two tents side by side.

Mikha and Aiah in one.

Gwen and Colet in the other.

(Not that Aiah agrees to that arrangement, but apparently, she’s outvoted.)

Dinner is simple but warm—grilled food, canned goods, instant noodles—eaten around a small bonfire.

Colet stokes the flames. Gwen fails miserably at toasting marshmallows. Mikha leans back on her elbows, watching the stars like she belongs here.

And Aiah… Aiah just takes it all in.

Because for the first time in a long time, she isn’t thinking about what comes next.

Not Manila.

Not her defenses.

Not the way Mikha has been pushing at her walls for weeks.

Just this. Just them. Just now.

And somehow, it feels enough.

After dinner, they sprawl around the fire, talking about everything and nothing.

Then the topic shifts—to Manila.

“I don’t get the appeal,” Gwen mutters, leaning against a log. “It’s too crowded, too loud. The traffic alone is enough to kill me.”

“Same,” Colet adds. “I’d never live there.”

Mikha, quiet until now, lets out a chuckle. “Definitely not planning on going back.”

Aiah raises an eyebrow. “Really?”

Mikha hums. “Only ever went there for school or business. Cebu’s always been home. No reason to go back now.”

Aiah tries not to read into that.

“Told you,” Gwen says, nudging Colet. “No one sane would choose Manila.”

Aiah rolls her eyes. “You’re so dramatic.”

Colet chuckles, stealing Gwen’s drink for a sip.

Aiah freezes. She’s seen that move before.

Her smirk spreads. “Oh my God. You and Jhoanna would get along so well.”

Colet blinks. “Jhoanna?”

“Jhoanna Robles,” Aiah explains. “She’s my friend from Manila. You two have the same mannerisms. You should look her up—”

“Wait.”

Mikha suddenly sits up, sharp. “Jhoanna Robles? You’re friends with her?”

Aiah blinks. “Uh… yeah?”

Colet immediately grimaces. “Oh no. If your friend is one of Mikha’s exes, I’m out.”

Aiah winces.

And just like that, the can of worms is open.

Mikha looks at her, amused. “Hold on. How did I not know this?”

“Maybe because I wasn’t planning on bringing it up,” Aiah mutters.

Gwen whistles low. “Damn. So that’s why you were always wary of her.”

Aiah smirks. “Well, yeah. I spent a lot of time listening to them complain about one Mikha Lim.”

“Them?” Colet asks, eyebrows raised.

“My whole friend group,” Aiah admits. “Jhoanna, Maloi, Stacey.”

Mikha blinks, then laughs. “Wow.”

Colet snorts. “That’s actually impressive.”

“What can I say?” Mikha smirks. “I’m efficient.”

“Don’t make this worse,” Aiah groans.

“So that’s why you had such a strong first impression of me,” Mikha muses.

“Strong impression?” Aiah glares. “It was me thinking you were a walking red flag.”

“And yet… here we are.”

“I regret everything.”

Colet grins. “This is the best thing I’ve learned all night.”

Gwen shakes her head. “We should’ve had this conversation sooner.”

Aiah wants to sink into the earth. Mikha looks far too pleased.

“Looks like you were doomed from the start, Aiah.”

And Aiah hates how much she doesn’t disagree.

The fire crackles between them. The warm glow flickers across their faces as the conversation shifts, finally, to something heavier.

Aiah runs a hand through her hair. “For what it’s worth, none of them made a big deal about it.”

Mikha raises an eyebrow.

“They acknowledged their past with you,” Aiah says, waving a hand. “But none of them thought it was… serious.”

Colet hums, teasing. “So you’re still trying to set me up with your friend, huh?”

Aiah chuckles. “I think you’d get along. Minus the Mikha baggage.”

Mikha huffs out a laugh, then leans forward, elbows on her knees. “Alright. Since we’re already here, let’s clear some things up.”

The tone shifts.

Gwen and Colet go quiet.

Mikha takes a breath. “The reputation, the exes, the whole Mikha Lim plays with hearts thing—it’s not completely wrong. I’ve dated a lot. I’ve had flings. I was careless, sometimes without meaning to be.”

She shrugs, not defensive. Just honest.

“But I never promised what I didn’t mean. And I never pretended I was something I wasn’t.”

Colet nods. “So you were just upfront?”

“Always.”

Gwen smirks. “So you really were just that charming.”

“Apparently.”

Aiah doesn’t realize she’s holding her breath until Mikha turns to her.

Her expression softens.

And suddenly, the firelight feels too sharp, too close.

“But I’m not that person anymore,” Mikha says quietly.

Aiah’s stomach tightens.

Mikha’s gaze lingers on her, steady and unflinching.

“Because I’ve already found my person.”

The fire pops. Sparks rise into the night air.

Aiah forgets how to breathe.

Because Mikha Lim is looking at her like she has never been more certain of anything in her life.

The silence after stretches. Heavy. Charged.

This isn’t a game.

This isn’t a performance.

It’s Mikha telling the truth.

And Aiah has no idea how to deflect.

Then, mercifully, Gwen whistles. “Wow. So dramatic. Should we leave you two alone?”

Colet snorts. “Yeah, let’s go for a walk. Let them confess under the stars.”

Mikha chuckles low, leaning back on her hands. “I mean, if you insist.”

“Oh my God,” Aiah groans. “Shut up.”

Gwen grins. “Nah, this is cute. Like a telenovela. Mikha Lim’s Reform Arc.”

Colet wipes an imaginary tear. “Growth.”

Mikha laughs, shaking her head. “You’re insufferable.”

“You love us,” Gwen fires back.

Mikha smirks, glancing at Aiah for just a second before answering.

“Yeah. I do.”

Aiah’s stomach flips.

She looks away, pretending not to be affected. “This is the worst group I’ve ever been forced into.”

Colet nudges her with her foot. “Oh please, you love us too.”

“I take back my Jhoanna recommendation,” Aiah mutters.

“Wow,” Gwen gasps. “Betrayal.”

Mikha just grins, satisfied.

Because for once, Aiah isn’t running.

She’s here.

With them.

And somehow, that feels okay.

Chapter Text

The fire burns low, flickering embers casting a soft orange glow across the clearing.

Gwen stretches with an exaggerated yawn. “Alright, I’m tapping out. I need sleep.”

Colet pushes herself up from the log. “Yeah, same. You two don’t stay up too late, okay?”

Mikha smirks. “No promises.”

Colet rolls her eyes but doesn’t argue, tossing a pointed glance at Aiah before heading toward the tents. Gwen follows, grinning knowingly before disappearing inside.

And just like that—they’re alone.

The sounds of the night settle around them. Crickets hum in the distance. The fire crackles, sending sparks into the cool air.

Above, the sky stretches wide and endless, stars spilling across the darkness in a way the city never allows.

Aiah exhales slowly, tilting her head back. “You don’t see stars like this in Manila.”

Mikha hums. “You don’t see stars like this anywhere.”

Aiah glances at her.

Mikha sits with her arms resting on her knees, face lit faintly by the fire—unguarded, softer than Aiah has ever seen her.

Something stirs in Aiah.

Before she can stop herself, she asks, “Did you mean what you said earlier?”

Mikha turns, eyebrows raised. “Which part?”

“That you’re not that person anymore.”

Mikha doesn’t look away. Doesn’t smirk. Doesn’t joke.

She just nods. “I meant it.”

Aiah exhales, eyes flicking back to the stars. “It’s hard to believe sometimes. You have this… reputation.”

“I know.” Mikha’s voice is quiet. “And I won’t blame you if it takes time. But Aiah…”

When Aiah turns her head, Mikha is already watching her.

“I don’t want to be that person anymore,” Mikha says, low and steady. “I don’t want to drift in and out of people’s lives. I don’t want to be someone who never stays.”

Aiah feels those words more than she expects to.

Because isn’t that her fear too? That Mikha will be another fleeting moment. Another person who leaves.

But Mikha isn’t promising forever. She’s saying something simpler, something scarier—

That she wants to stay.

Mikha tilts her head slightly, breath unsteady. “And I—” She exhales, then says it.

“I want to stay with you.”

Aiah’s breath hitches.

For a moment, neither of them move.

The stars stretch endlessly above them. The fire flickers low. And Aiah knows—she can’t run from this anymore. Not with Mikha looking at her like that. Not with her heart beating this fast.

Her thoughts spin.

I want to stay with you.

She should say something. Push back. Laugh it off. Anything but sit here, heart thundering, pulse racing, because Mikha Lim has just placed something dangerous between them.

And instead of running—Aiah leans in.

Just slightly.

Close enough to see firelight reflected in Mikha’s eyes.

Mikha, who is still watching her.

Mikha, whose breath hitches.

Mikha, who—for once—doesn’t move first.

She just waits.

Waits for Aiah to choose.

Aiah swallows hard, gaze flicking down to her lips—

And then—

A cold drop lands on her cheek.

Another.

And then the rain crashes down.

“Shit—”

Aiah yelps as the downpour soaks them within seconds.

Mikha snaps out of it first. “Run!” she laughs, grabbing Aiah’s wrist and pulling her up.

They sprint toward the tents, half-laughing, half-stumbling, rain pouring in sheets.

By the time they zip themselves inside, both are drenched.

Aiah lets out a breath, chest heaving. Not just from the run—but from everything.

The almost-moment.

The weight of Mikha’s words.

The way they were sitting close enough that—

Mikha sighs dramatically. “We were literally just talking about the stars. And now? A damn storm.”

Aiah blinks at her.

And then—she laughs.

Of course Mikha would break the tension with a joke.

Of course she’d try to ease the weight of something Aiah still doesn’t know how to hold.

And somehow, that makes her chest feel lighter.

Still full. Still messy with unspoken things.

But lighter.

She shakes her head, grinning despite herself. “You really have the worst timing.”

Mikha grins back. “Hey, don’t blame me. Blame the weather.”

Aiah doesn’t.

She blames herself.

Because she knows—if the rain hadn’t come, she would have let it happen.

And she doesn’t know what that means.

But now, inside this tent, skin damp, heart racing—

She has time to figure it out.

And Mikha—Mikha isn’t rushing her.

For once, Aiah isn’t afraid of the silence.

Chapter Text

The rain stops sometime in the early morning, leaving behind the scent of damp earth and the soft hush of water dripping from the trees.

Aiah stirs awake, the cool mountain air brushing against her skin.

For a moment, she forgets where she is.

Then she feels warmth beside her.

Her eyes blink open, still caught between sleep and wakefulness—only to find Mikha lying dangerously close.

At some point during the night, they must have shifted.

They aren’t tangled together, but Mikha’s arm rests a little too close to her waist, their legs brush lightly, and Aiah can hear the steady rise and fall of her breathing, inches from her face.

Aiah freezes.

Oh.

Her gaze lingers.

Mikha’s face is soft in sleep—no smirk, no sharp edges, just calm, unguarded quiet.

Aiah’s heart does a strange, uncomfortable flip.

The night before rushes back all at once.

The stars.

The words.

The way Mikha had been so close—too close—before the rain crashed down.

Aiah swallows, something shifting deep in her chest.

She should move.

She should wake Mikha.

She should—

Mikha sighs in her sleep, half-mumbling, and shifts closer.

Aiah almost dies.

Instinct takes over. She shoves her.

“Uy—!”

Mikha yelps awake, nearly rolling before catching herself. Her eyes flutter open, still groggy, and she frowns. “What the hell, Aiah?”

“You were too close,” Aiah snaps.

Mikha blinks slowly, then grins as the realization hits. “Oh? Too close?”

Aiah instantly regrets her life choices.

“No. I mean—yes. I mean—get up, we need to pack.”

Mikha laughs, rubbing her face. “You’re so bad at this.”

Aiah ignores her. Ignores the heat crawling up her neck. Ignores the smugness radiating from Mikha’s grin. Ignores everything about last night.

She has to.

Because if she doesn’t, she might have to admit the truth.

She spends the whole morning pretending nothing happened.

Pretending the almost-kiss doesn’t linger in the air.

Pretending waking up that close didn’t unravel her.

She keeps herself busy—rolling sleeping bags, double-checking supplies, fussing over trash bags—anything to not think about Mikha.

But Mikha?

Mikha isn’t letting her off that easy.

“Relax,” Mikha says as Aiah nearly drops the tent poles.

“I am relaxed.”

“Right.” Mikha’s smirk deepens. “That’s why you’re attacking the equipment like it personally offended you?”

Aiah scowls. “Some of us care about packing properly, Mikha.”

“And some of us,” Mikha murmurs, “know when someone’s deflecting.”

Aiah pretends she doesn’t hear her.

The car ride back starts off normal.

Gwen drives, Colet rides shotgun, while Aiah and Mikha sit in the back.

It’s supposed to be fine.

Until Colet ruins it.

“So, Aiah,” she says casually, “you and Mikha looked awfully cozy last night.”

Aiah chokes on air.

Mikha grins like Christmas came early. “Care to elaborate, Colet?”

Gwen glances at them through the rearview mirror. “Oh? Something happened?”

Aiah glares daggers at Colet. Pure betrayal.

Colet only shrugs. “Nothing major. Just Aiah and Mikha, sitting under the stars, almost—”

“We were not!” Aiah blurts.

Silence.

Then Gwen whistles. “Ohhh. Almost.”

Mikha turns to her, smug as ever. “So we’re admitting there was an ‘almost’ now?”

Aiah wants to throw herself out of the moving vehicle. Or throw Mikha out. Either works.

She crosses her arms. “I hate all of you.”

“Denial is a river in Egypt, Aiah,” Colet sing-songs.

Mikha chuckles, stretching lazily before tilting her head toward Aiah. “You know, you can just admit it.”

Aiah refuses to look at her. “Admit what?”

“That you wanted to kiss me.”

Aiah’s head snaps toward her.

Mikha meets her gaze calmly. Patient. Unbothered.

And for one dizzy second, Aiah feels like she’s back under the stars, Mikha’s words hanging between them, her chest tightening with something too close to truth.

She grips her seatbelt. “I think you’re delusional.”

“Right,” Mikha says smoothly. “Of course.”

But her smirk—like she already knows—makes Aiah want to scream.

Because the worst part?

She did want to.

And now she can’t stop thinking about it.

Chapter Text

Aiah fully intends to bury it—to shove down everything that happened in the mountains, pretend she isn’t having a crisis over Mikha Lim, and get through her remaining days in Cebu like nothing has shifted inside her.

Her friends, of course, don’t let her.

The moment she drops her bags at home, her phone buzzes. Then rings. Then keeps ringing.

With a sigh, she answers—only to hear Jhoanna’s voice immediately.

“Aiah, what is this I’m seeing?”

“What?”

Before she can even process, Jhoanna adds Maloi. Then Stacey. Then Sheena. Suddenly she’s on a group call, and she instantly regrets picking up.

“Aiah.” Maloi sounds far too amused. “Why do you look so happy in those pictures?”

Aiah frowns. “What pictures?”

“Your posts. Your stories,” Stacey chimes in. “You were practically glowing the whole trip. You sure you still hate Mikha?”

Aiah freezes.

Oh.

Shit.

She hadn’t even thought about how it might have looked online.

Jhoanna laughs. “At least try to look miserable next time.”

“I—I wasn’t—” Aiah stammers.

Sheena cuts in. “So, do you still hate her?”

Aiah opens her mouth. Closes it again.

The silence is answer enough.

She exhales. “…No.”

Maloi gasps dramatically. “Character development!”

Jhoanna smirks. “Okay, so if you don’t hate her… then what?”

Aiah hesitates.

And then, before she can stop herself—

“I think I like her.”

The line erupts.

“OH?!”

Jhoanna cackles. “Say it louder for the people in the back!”

“I hate you all,” Aiah groans.

Stacey chuckles. “You definitely don’t.”

“What are you going to do about it?” Sheena presses.

“I… don’t know.”

“Overthinking,” Jhoanna mutters.

“I am not,” Aiah snaps.

“You so are,” Maloi says. “What—afraid she’s not serious?”

Aiah bites her lip. “…Maybe.”

“And do you still think she’s that person?” Stacey asks gently.

Aiah hesitates. Then exhales. “…No.”

The silence after is telling.

Then Maloi sighs. “Then stop overthinking and just go for it.”

“What?” Aiah blinks.

Jhoanna chuckles. “What, you thought we were gonna tell you to stay away from her? Babe, you’ve spent this whole trip proving she’s not who you thought she was.”

“But—”

“But nothing,” Stacey cuts in. “What matters is who she is with you now.”

The words hit. Hard.

And Aiah realizes—they’re right.

She has spent so long convincing herself Mikha isn’t serious.

But what if she is?

And what if—for once—Aiah lets herself believe it?

Sheena chuckles. “If you like her, let yourself like her.”

Maloi grins. “And maybe finally do something about it.”

Aiah bites her lip.

Because for the first time, she wants to.

And maybe, just maybe—she will.

An hour later, Aiah is still sitting in her room, staring at her phone. Her friends’ voices echo in her head:

If you like her, let yourself like her.

Maybe finally do something about it.

She exhales, runs a hand through her hair.

And then—before she can talk herself out of it—she opens Mikha’s chat.

Aiah: Hey. Are you free?

The reply comes instantly.

Mikha: For you? Always.

Aiah rolls her eyes, but her stomach flips anyway.

Aiah: Meet me at Café Sol in 30?

A pause.

Then—

Mikha: On my way.

Aiah arrives first, settling at an outdoor table. The warm evening breeze brushes against her skin as her heart pounds.

Because this is new.

Mikha is usually the one who shows up unannounced, who pushes, who always makes the first move.

But tonight—Aiah is choosing her.

Footsteps approach.

And then—there she is.

Mikha, casual in jeans and a hoodie, still managing to look annoyingly good, hands tucked into her pockets, giving Aiah a soft, careful smile.

“You wanted to see me,” Mikha says, stopping in front of the table.

“I did.”

Mikha tilts her head, eyes searching. “And why is that, Aiah?”

Aiah takes a sharp breath.

And then—she does what she should have done a long time ago.

“I like you.”

Mikha stares.

For once, she’s the one caught off guard—no smirk, no quick reply, no teasing deflection. Just stunned silence.

Aiah swallows, fingers curling tight around her cup. “I don’t know where this is going, but… I want to find out. And if you meant everything you said, if you really—”

Mikha cuts her off—not with words, but with a smile.

Real. Genuine. Unarmed.

And Aiah knows—she’s made the right choice.

Because Mikha has been waiting.

Waiting for her to believe it.

And now—she does.

Mikha exhales slowly, pulling out the chair across from Aiah. She sits, doesn’t rush, doesn’t fill the silence. Instead, she simply reaches for Aiah’s coffee cup—not to steal it, not to tease, but just to brush her fingers against hers.

A quiet, lingering touch.

Her thumb grazes Aiah’s knuckles, grounding them both in the moment.

Finally, she speaks.

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited for you to say that.”

Aiah’s chest tightens.

Because Mikha isn’t performing. Isn’t playing. She’s just—open. Honest.

And this time, Aiah doesn’t look away.

“Guess I finally caught up,” she whispers.

Mikha’s lips curve into a soft, steady smile. Her fingers tighten around Aiah’s hand.

“And I’m not letting you go now.”

Aiah’s heart flips.

Because for the first time—she doesn’t want her to.

Chapter Text

Aiah should know this isn’t going to be a normal first date.

Because the moment she steps outside her house—expecting maybe coffee, maybe a quiet dinner—she finds Mikha leaning against her car, grinning like she has already won something.

Aiah narrows her eyes. “What’s with the face?”

Mikha opens the passenger door. “Get in.”

Aiah frowns. “Where are we going?”

Mikha tilts her head, looking far too pleased with herself. “Do you trust me?”

Aiah doesn’t answer right away.

Because that’s the real question, isn’t it?

She exhales, then—before she can overthink it—slides into the seat.

Mikha grins. “That’s my girl.”

Aiah pretends not to hear that.

They’re barely ten minutes into the drive when Mikha suddenly pulls over.

Aiah blinks. “Uh. Did we break down?”

Mikha rolls her eyes and nods toward a small street food cart on the sidewalk. “No. We need fuel.”

Aiah raises an eyebrow. “We just left. You couldn’t have picked a place first?”

“Spontaneity, babe.” Mikha’s grin is infuriating.

Aiah sighs but follows her out.

Minutes later, they’re sharing barbecue skewers and isaw, smoke curling around them in the cool night air.

Mikha watches as Aiah dips her isaw into vinegar and takes a satisfied bite.

“You eat this a lot, don’t you?” Mikha muses.

“Told you. It’s my comfort food.”

“Then I’m making a mental note—whenever you’re mad at me, I’ll buy you isaw.”

Aiah pauses mid-bite. “Whenever?”

Mikha smirks. “Come on. We both know I’ll annoy you again at some point.”

Aiah rolls her eyes, but she doesn’t disagree.

After the street food, Mikha refuses to say where they’re going. She just keeps driving until they’re on a winding road high above the city. The lights sprawl below them, a glittering carpet.

She pulls over at a quiet lookout.

Aiah frowns. “Are we even allowed to park here?”

“I won’t tell if you don’t.” Mikha leans back, unbothered.

Aiah huffs but gets out anyway.

The air is cooler here, the breeze threading through the trees. Aiah leans against the car, taking it in.

She doesn’t realize Mikha is staring until Mikha says, “You’re staring.”

Aiah turns. “At the view.”

“This view’s better.” Mikha grins, shameless.

Aiah shakes her head. “You’re impossible.”

“But you like me anyway.”

Groaning, Aiah mutters, “I regret saying anything.”

Mikha chuckles but lets it drop.

They stand side by side in silence, looking out at the city, until Aiah feels completely at ease. For a moment, she lets herself admit it—this is perfect.

Messy. Unplanned. And absolutely perfect.

Which is why, when Mikha says, “Okay, one last stop,” Aiah narrows her eyes.

“You’re still not done?”

Mikha winks. “It’s me.”

Aiah sighs, pretending to be annoyed. “Fine. Where to now?”

“You’ll see.”

She expects chaos. A late-night beach run, maybe karaoke, maybe a tattoo parlor.

Instead, they end up in front of an old basketball court. The streetlights buzz faintly overhead, casting long shadows across cracked pavement.

Aiah looks around. “Why here?”

Mikha kicks at a pebble. “I used to come here as a kid. After school, weekends… sometimes when I just wanted to be alone. Me and my parents lived down this street.”

Aiah blinks. She hadn’t expected that.

Mikha rubs the back of her neck. “I don’t know. Just thought I’d take you somewhere that actually means something.”

Aiah stares at her.

This isn’t random. This is Mikha showing her a piece of herself.

Something warm blooms in Aiah’s chest. She lets out a small chuckle. “You really took me on a date to a basketball court?”

Mikha grins, relief flashing in her eyes. “What, you don’t think it’s romantic?”

“Only if you can actually shoot.”

“Is that a challenge, babe?”

“Prove me wrong.”

Mikha finds an old ball and starts showing off—spinning it on her finger, dribbling dramatically. Aiah isn’t impressed. But she also… kind of is.

Then Mikha lines up a shot—and misses horribly.

Aiah bursts out laughing. “Oh my God.”

Mikha groans. “I swear, I used to be good at this.”

“Move.” Aiah takes the ball, lines up her own shot, and sinks it in one clean motion.

Mikha stares. Then: “Okay, wow, that was actually really hot.”

“Mikha!”

“What? Unexpected skills are attractive!”

Aiah rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling.

Because this feels easy. Natural. Right.

And when Mikha looks at her like she’s the best thing she’s seen all night, Aiah realizes—she doesn’t want this to end.

The game fades into silence. The fire of teasing cools into something heavier as they linger under the flickering streetlights.

“I should probably get home,” Aiah murmurs, though she doesn’t sound urgent.

“Yeah,” Mikha says, reluctant.

Neither moves.

Mikha chuckles softly. “For someone who fought me so hard on this, you’re taking your sweet time saying goodbye.”

“Don’t push it, Mikha.”

Mikha only smiles—fond, softer than usual. “Come on. I’ll take you home.”

“Okay.”

The ride back is quiet. Not the avoiding kind—comfortable, full. Mikha’s hand rests on the wheel, the other tapping idly against the gear shift. Every so often, Aiah catches her glancing over, but Mikha never comments.

And maybe that’s what makes this feel so much bigger. For once, Mikha isn’t pushing. She’s just letting Aiah be.

When the car stops in front of her house, neither of them moves. The engine hums, the silence stretches.

Aiah fiddles with her cardigan. Mikha just looks at her.

Not with smugness. Not with mischief.

Soft. Open. Like Aiah is the only thing in the world that matters.

And maybe that’s what tips her over.

She doesn’t think. She leans in.

Mikha’s breath hitches right before their lips meet—soft, warm, inevitable.

Mikha’s fingers find her cheek, grounding them both. Aiah melts into it, all her hesitation dissolving.

They kiss again. Slower this time, sure, like Mikha wants her to feel it—wants her to believe this is real.

And Aiah does.

Her hands curl into Mikha’s shirt. Mikha doesn’t rush, doesn’t push. Just stays. Present. Here.

Finally.

When they pull apart, it’s barely an inch. Foreheads nearly touching, breaths still mingled.

Aiah whispers it before she can stop herself. “…Finally.”

Mikha chuckles, low and warm. “Yeah. Finally.”

Neither moves. Neither speaks. They don’t need to. The moment is already full—of everything they’ve been circling, denying, resisting.

And now, there’s nothing left to resist.

Aiah lingers, reluctant to break it, until she finally steps back. “I should go inside.”

Mikha nods but doesn’t look away. Fingers brush against Aiah’s wrist, a fleeting touch, like she doesn’t want to let go.

Aiah swallows, turning toward the gate.

Before stepping inside, she glances back.

Mikha is still watching her.

Still looking at her like she’s the only thing in the world worth seeing.

And this time, Aiah doesn’t run from it.

She lets herself feel it.

And with that, she opens the gate and steps inside.

Leaving the night behind.

But not what has changed.

Because everything has.

And Aiah is finally okay with that.

Chapter Text

Aiah stares at the half-packed suitcase on her bed, unease settling heavy in her chest.

She’s leaving.

In two days.

And somehow, that fact feels heavier than it should.

She hasn’t seen Mikha since that night. Not because she’s avoiding her—not this time. But because time is moving too fast, and Aiah doesn’t know how to slow it down.

Their kiss has changed everything.

And now, she has to leave.

Her phone buzzes.

A message from Jhoanna.

Jhoanna: Are you packed yet?

Aiah stares at it for a moment before typing back.

Aiah: Halfway.

The reply comes instantly.

Jhoanna: Halfway packed? Or halfway to making a stupid decision?

Aiah rolls her eyes.

But deep down, she knows what Jhoanna means.

Because for the first time—she isn’t sure if leaving is what she wants.

And worse?

She has no idea how to tell Mikha that.

Her feet hit the pavement in a steady rhythm, breath controlled, even. She tells herself she’s jogging to clear her head—to put some distance between herself and all the noise in her chest.

But when she spots Gwen and Colet coming toward her, jogging in sync, she knows exactly where this is going.

“You never jog at this hour,” Gwen says, falling into pace beside her.

“Needed to clear my head,” Aiah mutters.

Colet smirks, jogging on her other side. “And how’s that working out for you?”

“Terribly.”

They laugh. The three of them jog in silence for a few minutes, the quiet not uncomfortable—until Colet finally speaks again.

“So. When’s your flight?”

Aiah hesitates. “…Two days.”

Gwen hums. “So soon.”

“Yeah.” The word feels heavier than usual.

Colet slows first, hands on her hips. “Okay, look. Are you really going to leave without talking about what this means?”

Aiah blinks. “What?”

“You and Mikha,” Gwen presses.

Aiah inhales sharply, already regretting this run.

“What about us?” she mutters.

“You tell us.” Gwen arches an eyebrow.

Aiah looks away. Because that’s the thing—they haven’t talked about it. She’s leaving in two days, and neither of them has said a word about what happens next.

And maybe… that’s what scares her.

“Aiah,” Colet says more gently, “you don’t seem like someone who’s completely ready to leave.”

Aiah lets out a forced laugh. “I have a ticket booked, my bags are half-packed, and—”

“That’s not what we mean.” Gwen cuts her off, gaze sharp.

“You like her. She likes you. But have either of you actually talked about what happens next?”

Aiah’s chest tightens.

Because no. They haven’t.

She’s been pretending things are normal—like they’re not about to be hundreds of kilometers apart with no promises, no plan. Like this isn’t going to hurt.

Colet sighs, folding her arms. “Are you just hoping she’ll be the one to bring it up?”

Aiah hesitates.

Because yes. That’s exactly what she’s been doing.

She’s terrified that if she says it—if she admits, I don’t know if I want to leave you—Mikha will just… let her go.

But Gwen softens, reading her silence. “And what if she’s thinking the same thing?”

The thought makes Aiah’s breath catch.

Because she hadn’t considered that before—that maybe Mikha is waiting for her too.

And suddenly, this whole conversation feels like a wake-up call she didn’t know she needed.

They start walking again, slower this time. The air feels cooler, heavier with things unsaid.

“You don’t have to decide everything right now,” Colet says, quieter now. “But you do have to talk to her.”

Gwen bumps Aiah’s shoulder. “Because whether you leave or stay… you both deserve to know where you stand.”

Aiah exhales, long and shaky.

Because they’re right.

She can’t ignore this anymore.

Later that day, Aiah sits on her bed, staring at Mikha’s name on her phone.

The echoes of Gwen and Colet still circle in her head.

You don’t seem like someone who’s completely ready to leave.

Have either of you actually talked about what happens next?

Are you just hoping she’ll be the one to bring it up?

Aiah hates that they’re right.

Because she has been waiting.

Waiting for Mikha to make the first move.

But what if Mikha is waiting for her too?

Aiah exhales sharply.

Then—before she can talk herself out of it—she opens Mikha’s chat and types.

Aiah: Hey. Can we talk?

The reply comes in under a minute.

Mikha: Of course. What’s up?

Aiah hesitates, then types again.

Aiah: Can you come over?

Another quick reply.

Mikha: On my way.

Aiah stares at the screen, her heart pounding in her chest.

Because this is it.

She’s finally going to say what she’s been too afraid to admit.

And whatever happens next—

She isn’t running from it this time.

Aiah hears the faint sound of an engine outside, followed by the familiar beep of a car being locked.

Her heart jumps.

This is real now.

She barely has time to steady herself before the doorbell rings.

A slow breath, then she moves, feet carrying her to the gate. She pushes it open—

And there she is.

Mikha stands there, hands tucked into the pockets of her hoodie, eyes scanning Aiah’s face carefully. Searching. Like she already knows this isn’t just a casual visit.

“…Hey,” Mikha says, her voice softer than usual.

Aiah swallows. “Come in.”

Mikha holds her gaze for a second longer, then nods. She steps inside.

Aiah closes the door behind her, the quiet hum of the air conditioner filling the space between them.

For a moment, neither of them speaks.

Mikha’s eyes sweep over the room—Aiah’s space, Aiah’s world. Aiah rarely lets anyone in here, and Mikha seems to understand the weight of that.

But then her gaze lands on something else.

The half-packed suitcase sitting at the edge of the bed.

A quiet pause.

Aiah sees Mikha’s expression shift, how the sight of it seems to confirm something she doesn’t want to think about.

Mikha turns back to her, hands still in her pockets. “So.”

Aiah exhales. “Sit?”

Mikha nods, walking over to the bed. She sits at the edge—right beside the suitcase. Aiah hesitates, then joins her. Not too close, but not far either.

The weight of the moment settles.

Mikha breaks the silence first. “You’re leaving in two days.”

It isn’t a question.

Aiah nods, fingers fidgeting. “Yeah.”

“And you wanted to talk about that?” Mikha asks, still staring at the floor.

Another pause. Then Aiah nods again. Because this isn’t just about leaving. It’s about them. About what it means.

Mikha lets out a slow breath. “…I was waiting,” she admits.

Aiah turns. “For what?”

Mikha glances at her, eyes unreadable. “For you to bring it up first.”

Aiah stills.

Mikha’s lips twitch into a small, almost self-deprecating smile. “I didn’t want to be the one to ask if you were going to leave me behind.”

Aiah’s chest tightens. Because that’s exactly what she’s been afraid of too.

But hearing Mikha say it—plain, vulnerable—makes it all feel so much more real.

And suddenly, Aiah knows. She can’t walk away from this. Not like this.

Not without saying it.

She steadies herself, voice quiet but clear. “What if I don’t want to leave?”

Mikha freezes.

The words hang between them, heavy, louder than the hum of the air conditioning or the faint traffic outside.

Aiah feels exposed. She’s never been this direct before—never let herself be this vulnerable.

But it’s out now. The truth.

Mikha just stares at her, lips parted, like she hasn’t allowed herself to imagine this possibility—that maybe, just maybe, Aiah wants to stay.

The silence stretches, and Aiah’s pulse hammers in her ears. For once, she isn’t afraid of what she feels—she’s afraid of what Mikha might say.

What if Mikha lets her go?

“Mikha?” Aiah’s voice wavers.

Mikha closes her eyes for half a second. Then she looks at Aiah again.

And the emotion in her gaze makes Aiah’s breath catch.

Because it isn’t uncertainty. It isn’t hesitation.

It’s something deeper.

Mikha takes a slow breath. When she speaks, her voice is softer than Aiah has ever heard it.

“I want you to stay.”

Aiah’s heart stumbles.

There it is. No games. No deflections. Just the truth.

Mikha wants her to stay.

But before she can even process it, Mikha continues, careful. “…But I know your world isn’t here anymore.”

Something twists in Aiah’s chest.

Mikha curls her fingers into the fabric of her hoodie, grounding herself. “I don’t want you to leave, Aiah. But I don’t want you to stay just because of me, either.”

Aiah swallows hard.

Because Mikha won’t be selfish. She won’t ask Aiah to give up everything just to be with her.

And somehow, that makes the choice even harder.

Silence settles between them, heavy again.

Aiah clenches her hands against the bedsheet, her mind racing. She’s been afraid of this—afraid of wanting to stay, afraid of what it means, afraid Mikha wouldn’t stop her from leaving anyway.

But now she knows.

Mikha wants her here. She just won’t ask.

It’s Aiah’s decision.

Mikha forces out a quiet chuckle. “You know, for someone who was so sure about leaving, you don’t look sure anymore.”

Aiah lets out a frustrated laugh. “Yeah, well. Maybe someone made it harder for me.”

Mikha smirks, but her eyes are soft. “That someone must be really charming.”

Aiah rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling.

Even now, Mikha can still make her laugh. And somehow, that makes everything less heavy.

Neither of them speaks for a while. They just sit there, letting the words and silence settle.

Then—Aiah takes a breath.

And chooses.

She turns fully to Mikha, voice quiet but steady. “I don’t know what’s waiting for me in Manila. I just know it doesn’t feel like home anymore.”

Mikha’s breath catches.

“But this does,” Aiah says.

Mikha searches her eyes, careful, cautious, like she’s afraid to believe it too quickly.

Aiah lets out a nervous laugh. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but… I don’t want to leave.”

The words settle between them, final and real.

Mikha stares, eyes wide, like Aiah has just turned her whole world upside down. “…You mean that?”

“I do,” Aiah says without hesitation.

Mikha exhales, shaky, then laughs—soft, disbelieving, amazed. “I never thought I’d hear you say that.”

“Me neither,” Aiah admits, smiling small but certain.

Here they are.

No more running. No more pretending. No more games.

Just them.

Mikha doesn’t move right away. She just sits there, absorbing it, like she’s afraid the moment will vanish if she breathes too hard.

And Aiah lets her.

Because this isn’t just her choice—it’s theirs.

When Mikha finally does move, it isn’t rushed. She just reaches out, her fingers brushing Aiah’s. Hesitant for half a second, waiting for permission.

Aiah doesn’t pull away.

So Mikha curls her hand around hers, grip steady, grounding.

Like she’s saying, I hear you. I see you. I’m here.

And Aiah—for once—lets herself lean into it.

The silence between them isn’t heavy anymore.

It’s full.

Full of everything unsaid but deeply understood. Full of relief, of certainty, of knowing they aren’t standing on uncertain ground anymore.

Mikha runs her thumb lightly over Aiah’s knuckles, a small, deliberate motion.

Aiah exhales, the last of her fear melting away.

She’s been terrified of this moment.

But now that it’s here—

There’s no fear left.

Just this.

Just Mikha.

Aiah has never been the type to jump into things without a plan.

She’s always been calculated, always weighing her options, always making sure she knows exactly where she’s headed before taking the next step.

But here she is—choosing to stay in Cebu without a clear career path, without knowing what comes next.

And somehow, it doesn’t scare her the way it should.

Because Mikha is here.

And for once, that’s enough.

They’re parked by the seaside, the city lights twinkling behind them as waves lap gently against the shore.

Mikha had driven them here without much explanation, just saying, “You look like you need air.”

Aiah hadn’t argued.

She has a lot to figure out. But for now, she just wants to be here. With her.

“So,” Mikha says, stretching her arms over her head before turning to her. “No turning back now, huh?”

Aiah exhales, a small smile tugging at her lips. “No turning back.”

Mikha’s mouth curves up, but there’s something gentler in her expression—something less teasing, more real.

“Have you told your friends yet?”

Aiah laughs. “They’ll probably think I lost my mind.”

Mikha chuckles, leaning back against the hood of her car. “And did you?”

Aiah glances at her, pretending to think it over. Then—without hesitation—“No.”

Mikha stills, just slightly.

Aiah lets out a breath, turning her gaze toward the horizon. “I don’t know what’s next for me here,” she admits. “But I know I want to figure it out. And I know I want…”

She hesitates—just for a second. Then she looks back at Mikha, her voice softer, but certain.

“…I want you.”

Mikha’s grin falters.

Not because she doesn’t want to hear it—because she does. Because maybe she’s been waiting to hear it this whole time.

She exhales, looking down for a moment before shaking her head with a quiet, disbelieving laugh. “You’re really serious about this, huh?”

Aiah tilts her head. “Did my staying in Cebu not convince you enough?”

Mikha grins again, but her eyes are softer now, fonder. She reaches for Aiah’s hand—just like she did last night.

But this time, there’s no hesitation.

No more questioning.

Just certainty.

“Okay,” Mikha murmurs, her thumb brushing across Aiah’s palm. “Then let’s do this.”

Aiah raises an eyebrow, teasing. “Do what?”

Mikha rolls her eyes, but she squeezes Aiah’s hand, firm and steady.

“Be together.”

Aiah’s breath hitches.

She already knew this was where it was headed. She had already chosen Mikha. And yet, hearing her say it—so simple, so sure—makes it real.

A smile spreads across Aiah’s face, warmth blooming in her chest.

“Yeah,” she says softly. “Let’s do this.”

Chapter Text

Aiah isn’t sure what kind of reaction she expects.

Her friends are predictable in their unpredictability—they’ll either be dramatic, roast her mercilessly, or hit her with some unexpected wisdom.

Probably all three.

So when she finally hits call on their group chat, she braces herself.

It doesn’t take long before the screen lights up with their faces.

Jhoanna squints first. “Wait. Aiah? You’re calling?”

Maloi gasps. “Oh my God, something happened.”

“She got engaged,” Stacey deadpans.

Aiah sighs. “I am not—”

“She’s pregnant,” Sheena adds.

Aiah groans. “Okay, what—”

Jhoanna leans closer. “Wait. You look different.”

Aiah blinks. “What does that even mean?”

Maloi smirks. “Oh no. She has that glow.”

Aiah rolls her eyes, but her stomach flips anyway.

Because she knows exactly what they’re talking about.

For the first time in a while—she’s truly happy.

And they see it immediately.

“Okay, okay,” Jhoanna cuts in, leaning forward. “What’s the big news?”

Aiah hesitates.

Then—she just says it.

“I’m staying in Cebu. For good.”

Silence.

Then—

“HA?!!”

Aiah winces as the collective explosion rattles her speakers.

Sheena’s jaw drops. “You? The same Aiah who swore she’d never be trapped on that island again?”

“Is this a prank?” Maloi squints. “Are we on some hidden camera show?”

Jhoanna leans even closer. “Wait. WAIT. This is because of—”

She doesn’t even need to finish.

Because they all get it at the same time.

“MIKHA?!!”

Aiah groans. “Can you all not yell at the same time—”

“OH MY GOD.” Stacey wheezes. “YOU FELL FOR HER. YOU REALLY FELL.”

Maloi gasps. “And you’re staying for her?!?”

Aiah rolls her eyes, but her smile betrays her.

Sheena clutches her chest dramatically. “This is insane. This is the plot twist of the century.”

“Wait, wait,” Jhoanna grins. “Are you together now?”

Aiah exhales, shaking her head. “Yes. Officially.”

More screaming.

She’s already regretting this call.

When the chaos finally dies down, Maloi raises an eyebrow. “So what’s next? Like, career-wise?”

Aiah pauses.

Because that’s the only thing she hasn’t figured out yet.

“I… don’t know,” she admits. “But I’ll figure it out.”

Silence.

Then Jhoanna smiles.

“Good.”

Aiah blinks. “…Good?”

Jhoanna nods. “You’ve always had everything planned out. Maybe it’s time you just let things happen.”

The others hum in agreement.

Aiah lets the words settle.

Because, for the first time—she’s okay with that.

Letting things happen.

Letting herself stay.

And most of all—letting herself be happy.

Later, she finds Gwen and Colet exactly where she expects them—lounging in their usual corner of a quiet café, mid-debate.

Colet leans back, arms crossed. “I’m just saying—out of all the Studio Ghibli movies, Whisper of the Heart deserves more love.”

Gwen scoffs. “It’s great, but don’t tell me you’d rank it over Spirited Away or Howl’s Moving Castle.”

Aiah clears her throat, amused. “Are you two ever not arguing?”

Both of them turn immediately.

“Aiah,” Gwen greets, then pauses. Her sharp gaze narrows. “…You look different.”

Aiah sighs. “Why does everyone keep saying that?”

Colet smirks. “Because it’s true. What happened?”

Aiah exhales, sliding into the seat across from them. “I, uh…”

She hesitates.

Because saying it out loud again makes it even more real.

But then she looks at them—two people who have somehow become part of her world—and realizes she wants them to know.

So she just says it.

“I’m staying.”

Silence.

Then—

“WHAT?!”

Aiah winces. She really needs to work on breaking news more gently.

“You?” Gwen blinks. “Staying? In Cebu?”

Colet leans forward. “Hold on. Is this because of Mikha?”

Aiah rolls her eyes. “Can we not make this all about her?”

They both stare at her.

Aiah sighs. “Fine. Partly, yes.”

Gwen chuckles, shaking her head. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

Aiah scoffs. “Wow. Such faith in me.”

Colet grins. “I mean, you did spend weeks acting like Mikha was your worst nightmare.”

Aiah groans, but she’s smiling.

Because they aren’t wrong.

She has spent so much time fighting this—fighting her.

And yet, here she is. Still choosing Mikha anyway.

Colet nudges her arm. “So, what’s the plan?”

Aiah exhales. “No idea yet.”

Gwen smirks. “And that doesn’t scare you?”

Aiah thinks about it. Really thinks about it.

Then, with a small smile, she shakes her head.

“No.”

Because for once, she isn’t afraid of uncertainty.

She’s excited for it.

And she has a feeling she won’t be figuring it out alone.

Mikha barely steps into Café Sol before spotting Aiah by the window, casually scrolling through her phone.

She doesn’t even sit down before saying, “So, everyone knows now?”

Aiah looks up, blinking innocently. “You sound surprised.”

Mikha scoffs, sliding into the seat across from her. “I mean, I expected you to tell your friends—eventually. But Gwen and Colet? That fast?”

Aiah shrugs. “Didn’t see the point in waiting.”

Mikha leans back, watching her. “So you’re really staying.”

Aiah exhales, but she’s smiling. “I’m really staying.”

And for the first time, saying it out loud doesn’t feel terrifying.

Mikha’s gaze softens, but then something shifts. Her expression turns serious.

She tilts her head slightly. “And your parents?”

Aiah hesitates.

Mikha’s voice is careful when she continues. “Are they okay with this?”

Aiah bites her lip. “They don’t… know yet.”

Mikha raises an eyebrow. “Aiah.”

Aiah sighs. “I’ll tell them.”

Mikha leans forward, resting her arms on the table. “And what if they don’t take it well?”

For the first time, Aiah falters.

Because while she’s been so sure of her decision, she hasn’t actually thought about what her parents will say.

Will they support it? Try to convince her to go back? Understand?

Mikha studies her carefully, then—softer this time—she says, “I just want to make sure you won’t regret this.”

Aiah looks at her.

Because there it is again—the part of Mikha no one talks about. The part of her that cares.

Aiah exhales, then reaches out, brushing her fingers lightly over Mikha’s hand.

“I won’t regret choosing this,” she says firmly. “I won’t regret choosing you.”

Mikha stills, just for a second.

Then she lets out a slow breath, shaking her head with a small, disbelieving smile.

“Okay,” she murmurs.

Aiah tilts her head. “Okay?”

Mikha’s smile widens. “Okay.”

And just like that—Aiah knows they’re going to be fine.

Chapter Text

Aiah sits at the dining table, idly stirring her coffee while her parents chat about their day.

She plans to bring it up naturally, maybe slip it into the conversation like it’s no big deal.

But now, with nerves creeping up her spine, she realizes—

She has no idea how to say it.

“You’re awfully quiet,” her dad says, glancing at her over his newspaper. “Something wrong?”

Aiah hesitates, then exhales.

“Actually… I wanted to talk to you both about something.”

Her mom raises an eyebrow. “That sounds serious.”

Aiah bites her lip. “Not serious serious. Just… important.”

Her parents exchange a glance but don’t interrupt.

So she just says it.

“I’m staying in Cebu.”

A pause.

Then—her mom blinks. “That’s it?”

Aiah blinks back. “Uh… yeah?”

Her dad snorts, shaking his head. “You looked like you were about to tell us you got married or something.”

Her mom sighs, setting down her fork. “Aiah, we thought you were staying here anyway.”

Aiah frowns. “What?”

Her mom shrugs. “You’ve been here for a while now. We figured you’d either extend your stay or come back eventually.”

Her dad nods. “Besides, it’s nice having you around again. We’re not going to complain.”

Aiah stares at them. “…That’s it?”

Her mom smirks. “What, you wanted a dramatic reaction?”

Aiah groans, sinking into her chair. “I was so stressed about telling you!”

Her dad chuckles. “You worry too much, anak.”

Her mom smiles, reaching over to pat her hand. “We just want you to be happy, Aiah. If staying here makes you happy, then we’re happy.”

Aiah pauses.

Because for the first time in a long time—she really is.

Later that night, she sits at her desk, fingers hovering over her keyboard.

Her inbox is open, the draft email staring back at her—the one she’s rewritten at least five times.

She never imagined herself staying in Cebu permanently.

But here she is, typing out a request to transfer to the Cebu branch of her company.

Because even if she isn’t sure what comes next, she knows she wants to figure it out here.

She takes a breath, re-reading her words one last time.

Subject: Inquiry About Possible Cebu Branch Transfer

Her finger hovers over the send button.

This is it.

A step forward.

A step toward something real.

She clicks send.

And just like that—she’s really doing this.

The next day, Mikha arrives at Café Sol first, leaning against the railing outside while scrolling through her phone.

She barely looks up when she spots Aiah walking toward her—looking a little too casual, a little too composed.

Mikha narrows her eyes. “You’re hiding something.”

Aiah stops mid-step. “What?”

Mikha smirks, crossing her arms. “You have that I did something but I’m going to act like it’s not a big deal look.”

Aiah groans. “You are so annoying.”

Mikha grins. “And yet, here you are. Dating me.”

Aiah rolls her eyes, but her lips twitch like she’s trying not to smile.

Mikha tilts her head. “So, are you going to tell me? Or do I have to make you?”

Aiah sighs dramatically, dropping into the seat across from her. “Fine. I sent an email to my company asking if I can transfer to the Cebu branch.”

Mikha freezes.

Aiah continues like it’s nothing. “It makes sense, right? I still like my job, and it’s the easiest transition if there’s an opening—”

“You what?” Mikha cuts in.

Aiah blinks. “I—”

Mikha leans forward, eyes wide. “You’re actually doing this.”

Aiah pauses. Then exhales slowly. “Yeah. I am.”

Mikha sits back, watching her carefully—like she’s trying to process the fact that this isn’t just an idea anymore.

This is real.

Aiah is really staying.

And she isn’t just saying it. She’s making it happen.

Mikha lets out a small chuckle, shaking her head in disbelief. “Wow. You’re really making it hard for me to believe this isn’t a dream.”

Aiah snorts. “You want me to pinch you?”

Mikha smirks. “Nah. If it is a dream, I’d rather not wake up.”

Aiah rolls her eyes. “Cheesy.”

Mikha grins, but there’s something softer behind it.

Because for the first time, she doesn’t have to wonder if Aiah will leave again.

She’s really choosing this.

Choosing her.

And that’s something Mikha never thought she’d get to have.

The next morning, Aiah sits at her desk, refreshing her inbox for the fifth time.

Her heart pounds as she scrolls past newsletters and spam until finally—

There it is.

A reply from her manager.

She inhales sharply and clicks it open.

Subject: RE: Inquiry About Possible Cebu Branch Transfer

Hi Aiah,

Thanks for reaching out. I completely understand your situation and appreciate your dedication to staying within the company.

The good news is that there are available positions at the Cebu branch. However, the role may involve a slight shift in responsibilities compared to your current position. If that’s something you’re open to, we’d be happy to set up a call to go over the details.

Aiah exhales slowly.

It isn’t an immediate yes, but it’s a possibility.

And that’s more than enough.

She leans back in her chair, staring at the screen for a moment before grabbing her phone.

There’s only one person she wants to tell first.

She taps on Mikha’s name and starts typing.

Aiah: Looks like I won’t be unemployed after all.

The reply comes almost instantly.

Mikha: So you got it?

Aiah: Not yet. But there’s an opening, and they want to set up a call.

Mikha: That’s basically a yes. Let’s celebrate.

Aiah: You literally just need an excuse to spoil me, don’t you?

Mikha: Exactly.

Aiah laughs, shaking her head.

She still has things to figure out.

But for the first time, she isn’t afraid of what’s next.

Because whatever it is, she isn’t facing it alone.

Mikha doesn’t even let her argue.

The moment Aiah confirms the transfer is possible, Mikha is already making plans.

“This is a big deal,” Mikha insists over the phone. “You’re officially building a life here.”

Aiah rolls her eyes, but secretly? She doesn’t hate the idea of celebrating.

So now, she finds herself sitting at a seaside restaurant, waves crashing gently in the background as Mikha smirks at her from across the table.

Aiah raises an eyebrow. “You really went all out for this, huh?”

Mikha grins, leaning back in her chair. “Told you—I needed an excuse to spoil you.”

Aiah snorts. “It’s not even official yet.”

Mikha shrugs. “Doesn’t matter. You’re staying. That’s already worth celebrating.”

And just like that, warmth settles in Aiah’s chest again.

Because Mikha isn’t celebrating the job.

She’s celebrating her.

The night winds down with easy laughter, shared food, and Mikha stealing bites off Aiah’s plate.

By the time Aiah finally sits in front of her laptop again, her manager is already waiting on a video call to discuss the transfer.

The details come through—new responsibilities, expectations, the transition process.

It’s not exactly what she’s used to, but it’s close enough.

And somehow, it doesn’t scare her.

Her manager finishes with a smile. “If this works for you, we can start processing the transfer immediately.”

Aiah exhales slowly.

Then—without hesitation—she nods. “That works for me.”

The moment the call ends, she leans back in her chair, letting it sink in.

She’s done it.

She’s made the choice.

And this time, she isn’t looking back.

Her phone buzzes.

Mikha: So?

Aiah grins as she types.

Aiah: Looks like you’re stuck with me.

The reply comes instantly.

Mikha: Good. Would’ve been annoying if I had to chase you all the way to Manila.

Aiah laughs, shaking her head.

Because for once, she isn’t running away.

She’s running toward something.

And that makes all the difference.

Chapter Text

Aiah barely finishes booking her flight when her phone buzzes.

Mikha: What time are we leaving?

Aiah blinks at her screen. We?

She types back quickly.

Aiah: What do you mean WE?

Mikha’s reply is instant.

Mikha: You didn’t think I’d let you go alone, did you?

Aiah groans, rubbing her temples.

Of course Mikha Lim decides she’s tagging along.

But what she doesn’t expect is the next message that pops up in the group chat.

Colet: By the way, I booked a flight too. See you at the airport.

Aiah freezes.

What.

The.

Hell.

Later that night, the moment she sees Colet, Aiah wastes no time.

She crosses her arms, narrowing her eyes. “So let me get this straight. You—Colet Vergara—the same person who once swore I will never set foot in Manila—are now flying to Manila?”

Colet shrugs, completely unbothered. “Plans change.”

Aiah squints. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with a certain Jhoanna Robles, would it?”

For the first time, Colet falters.

Aiah gasps dramatically. “Oh my God. It is about Jhoanna.”

Colet scoffs, looking away. “I never said that.”

Aiah grins, triumphant. “You didn’t have to.”

Colet sighs, rubbing the back of her neck. “Look, you’re the one who’s been pushing it. I was just… curious.”

Aiah’s jaw drops. She did not expect Colet to actually admit it.

Mikha, who’s been watching the entire exchange with barely contained amusement, finally snorts.

“Well,” she says, grinning, “this is about to be an interesting trip.”

Aiah groans, already regretting everything.

This is supposed to be a simple trip to pack up her things in Manila.

Now?

She’s stuck with her girlfriend and a potentially pining Colet.

She’s never going to hear the end of this.

Aiah doesn’t know why she expects the flight to be normal.

Because the moment they board, she immediately regrets everything.

For starters, Mikha takes the window seat.

Which wouldn’t be a big deal—except that leaves Aiah stuck between her and Colet.

And these two together?

A menace.

“So,” Mikha leans back, grinning at Colet over Aiah’s shoulder. “Is this your first time in Manila?”

Colet snorts. “I’m not a cavewoman, Mikha. I’ve been there before.”

Mikha smirks. “And yet, this time, you suddenly have a personal reason for going.”

Aiah chokes on her own saliva.

Colet shoots Mikha a glare. “Oh, shut up.”

Mikha grins, victorious.

Aiah groans, slumping in her seat. “I swear, if you two don’t behave—”

“I am behaving,” Mikha says innocently.

Aiah shoots her a look. “You just started instigating before the plane even took off.”

Mikha shrugs. “I’m a naturally curious person.”

Colet rolls her eyes. “I should’ve booked a separate flight.”

Aiah huffs. “You’re telling me.”

The flight attendant’s voice crackles over the intercom, announcing departure.

As the plane begins taxiing, Aiah shifts in her seat, trying to get comfortable for the next hour and a half.

She has just started to relax when something warm brushes against her hand.

She looks down.

Mikha’s fingers are lightly hooked around hers, completely unbothered, her attention still on the window.

Aiah stiffens.

Not because she doesn’t like it—

But because Mikha does it so casually.

Like it’s second nature.

Like it’s something she’s always done.

Aiah bites the inside of her cheek, trying to fight back a smile.

She doesn’t let go.

Unfortunately, Colet notices.

“Oh my God,” she mutters. “You guys are so—”

Aiah kicks her ankle under the seat.

Colet yelps. “Hey!”

Mikha turns to them, clueless. “What?”

“Nothing,” Aiah says quickly, glaring at Colet.

Colet smirks but lets it go. For now.

As the plane ascends, the city lights shrink beneath them.

And Aiah realizes something.

This is the first time she’s returning to Manila without the intention of staying.

And somehow—

That thought doesn’t scare her at all.

Because this time, Cebu is waiting for her.

And so is her life with Mikha.

Chapter Text

The moment the plane touches down, Aiah braces herself.

She’s spent years in Manila, yet somehow, this time feels different.

Maybe because, for the first time, it isn’t home anymore.

And maybe because she isn’t alone—she has Mikha and Colet with her.

Which, frankly, is already chaotic energy waiting to happen.

They breeze through baggage claim surprisingly quickly, and soon enough, they’re stepping outside into the warm Manila air.

“Ugh,” Colet groans, adjusting her duffel bag. “I forgot how humid this place is.”

Aiah rolls her eyes. “It’s not that bad.”

Mikha, looking completely unbothered, smirks. “I don’t know, Colet. Maybe you’re just sensitive because this is new territory for you.”

Colet shoots her a warning glare.

Sensing another round of bickering incoming, Aiah quickly flags down a cab. “Okay, let’s move before you two start again.”

Mikha nudges Aiah’s shoulder playfully as they climb in. “You love us.”

Aiah sighs but doesn’t deny it.

By the time they reach her apartment, Mikha stretches lazily, looking around.

“So this is where the Aiah Arceta has been hiding all these years.”

Aiah rolls her eyes. “It’s just a small apartment, Mikha, not some grand secret lair.”

Colet glances around, humming. “It’s nice.”

Mikha smirks. “Too bad she’s abandoning it for me.”

Aiah groans. “Please don’t make me regret this.”

Mikha grins, unbothered.

Meanwhile, Colet casually wanders toward the still-packed boxes, picking up a roll of packing tape.

“So,” she drawls, “where do we start?”

As it turns out—nowhere.

Because instead of helping, Mikha and Colet do the exact opposite.

Mikha keeps getting distracted, picking up random things in Aiah’s apartment and asking, “Why do you own this?”

At one point, she holds up an oversized hoodie. “Is this an ex’s?”

Aiah snatches it out of her hands. “It’s mine, you menace.”

Meanwhile, Colet has completely abandoned packing and is now scrolling through her phone, lounging on the couch like she’s on vacation.

Aiah groans, rubbing her temples. “You guys are literally the worst.”

Mikha plops down beside Colet with a grin. “Correction: We are the best at keeping you entertained.”

Aiah throws a pillow at them. “If you’re not going to help, get out.”

Colet dodges it effortlessly, smirking. “Relax. You’re stuck with us for the next few days, anyway.”

Aiah stares at her. “What do you mean next few days?”

Mikha stretches her arms behind her head, looking smug. “We’re staying with you.”

Aiah’s jaw drops. “You are not crashing in my apartment.”

Mikha and Colet exchange a look.

Then—at the same time—

“Yes, we are.”

Aiah groans, already regretting everything.

After a full hour of zero actual packing progress, Aiah decides she needs a break.

Which, apparently, translates to grabbing dinner with Jhoanna.

“You guys don’t have to come,” Aiah says as she grabs her bag.

Mikha, already slipping on her shoes, smirks. “Oh, but we do.”

Colet clears her throat, trying to look way too casual. “It’s not a big deal.”

Aiah narrows her eyes. “Right. So this has nothing to do with Jhoanna being there?”

Colet pauses mid-step.

Mikha chuckles, nudging Aiah. “You love stirring the pot, don’t you?”

Aiah grins, throwing an arm over Colet’s shoulder. “Come on, Colet, I thought you were just curious?”

Colet sighs, pushing her off. “I hate you.”

Aiah smirks. “That doesn’t sound like a denial.”

Mikha pats Colet’s back with faux sympathy. “Relax. It’s just dinner. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Aiah and Colet simultaneously shoot her a look.

Mikha grins wider. “Okay, yeah. That was a stupid question.”

Jhoanna has no idea what she’s walking into.

She arrives at the restaurant first, scrolling on her phone while waiting for Aiah. A few minutes later, she looks up—and freezes.

Because walking in isn’t just Aiah.

It’s Aiah, Mikha Lim, and… some girl Jhoanna doesn’t recognize.

Jhoanna barely has time to process before Aiah grins, sliding into the seat across from her.
“Hey, sorry we’re late.”

Jhoanna blinks, still trying to catch up.
“Uh, no worries.” Her eyes flicker to Mikha and the stranger beside her. “And… you brought company?”

Mikha smirks, resting her elbow on the table. “Missed me, Robles?”

Jhoanna groans. “Unfortunately.”

Aiah rolls her eyes. “Behave, Mikha.”

Then she gestures toward Colet.
“This is Colet. Colet, meet Jhoanna.”

Colet nods casually. “Hey.”

Jhoanna nods back. “Hey.”

And that’s it.

Aiah waits.
Colet offers nothing else.
Jhoanna? Completely unaware of why Colet is even here.
Mikha? Highly entertained.
Aiah? Holding back laughter.

This is going to be fun.

Aiah is having the time of her life.

Because Colet—usually cool, unbothered, quick with a comeback—is a mess.

Jhoanna, oblivious, smiles politely. “So, you’re from Cebu too?”

Colet nods. “Yeah.”

A beat of silence.

Aiah waits.
Jhoanna waits.
Mikha, sensing the awkwardness, smirks.
And Colet… nothing.

No follow-up. No casual joke. Just one word.

Aiah bites her lip, choking back laughter.

Jhoanna tries again. “What do you do?”

Colet blinks. “Huh?”

Aiah almost chokes on her water. Mikha is seconds away from bursting.

Jhoanna clarifies, confused. “Your job? What do you do?”

“Oh. Right.” Colet clears her throat, shifting in her seat. “I work with animals. At a rescue center.”

Jhoanna’s face lights up. “Oh, that’s really cool! I’ve always loved animals. Do you take in strays?”

Colet nods stiffly. “Yeah.”

Silence. Again.

Jhoanna waits.
Aiah waits.
Mikha is grinning outright now.
And Colet? Still nothing.

Aiah almost feels bad. Almost.

“So,” Jhoanna tries one last time, smiling, “is this your first time in Manila?”

Aiah watches Colet visibly hesitate.

She could say no. She should say no. But if she admits she’s been here before, Jhoanna might ask why—and that’s a conversation Colet is clearly not ready to have.

Aiah is about to combust.

At last, Colet answers. “…Yeah.”

Aiah chokes. Mikha bites down on her fist, shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter.

Colet Vergara. A liar.

Jhoanna nods, oblivious. “Oh, that’s nice! I can recommend a few places to check out while you’re here.”

Colet nods stiffly. “Yeah. That’d be cool.”

Aiah kicks Mikha under the table.

Mikha winces but doesn’t stop grinning.

Because this is, without a doubt, the funniest thing that’s happened in weeks.

Aiah has to give Jhoanna credit.

She’s really trying.

Unfortunately for Colet, Jhoanna has no idea she’s making this so much worse.

“So,” Jhoanna says, resting her chin on her palm, “how long are you staying?”

Colet freezes.

Aiah watches the panic flicker across her face. Because Colet doesn’t have a plan. And more importantly—she doesn’t know how to answer without exposing herself.

A beat of silence.

Then—

“…Not long.”

Jhoanna raises an eyebrow. “Like… a few days?”

“…Yeah.”

Aiah almost loses it. Mikha has to press a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing.

Jhoanna narrows her eyes slightly. And for the first time, she turns to Aiah—suspicion forming in her gaze.

What’s her deal?

Aiah pretends to sip her drink.

Mikha? Useless. She’s seconds away from cackling.

Jhoanna turns back to Colet. “So, if it’s just a few days, I guess you already have plans lined up?”

Colet blinks. “Huh?”

Aiah bites her lip.

Jhoanna tilts her head. “Your itinerary? You’re only here a short time, so I’m guessing you already know what you want to do?”

Colet’s face goes blank.

Aiah can practically see the gears in her brain short-circuiting. Because Colet has no plans. She came here on impulse. And now she’s trapped.

Jhoanna’s suspicion deepens. She turns to Aiah again.

Who is this person you brought to dinner?

Aiah shrugs unhelpfully.

Jhoanna sighs, returning to Colet. “Okay, then what do you want to do while you’re here?”

Colet panics.

She doesn’t have an answer.

And Aiah is having way too much fun watching her suffer.

So, of course, she helps.

“Well,” Aiah starts, grinning, “Colet did say she was curious about certain things in Manila.”

Mikha wheezes.

Jhoanna blinks, clueless. “Like what?”

Colet kicks Aiah under the table.

Aiah barely flinches, still smiling.

Jhoanna looks between them again. She’s definitely catching on now.

“…Am I missing something?”

Aiah feigns innocence. “What? No.”

Jhoanna narrows her eyes at her.

Aiah takes a sip of her drink to avoid laughing.

Colet, meanwhile, looks like she wants to disappear.

And Mikha?

Mikha is having the time of her life.

Because this, by far, is the most entertaining dinner she’s ever attended.

The moment they step out of the restaurant, Colet grabs Aiah’s arm and drags her away.

“Whoa—hey!” Aiah laughs, stumbling to keep up. “Where’s the fire?”

Mikha, hanging back with a smug grin, calls after them. “I’ll just be over here enjoying the aftermath.”

Colet ignores her, hauling Aiah into a quiet corner of the parking lot before finally letting go.

And that’s when Aiah sees it.

Colet Vergara—cool, composed, nothing fazes me Colet—

Is losing her mind.

Aiah crosses her arms, thoroughly entertained. “So, how was dinner?”

Colet throws her hands in the air. “WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?”

Aiah grins. “A meal. With friends. And also your complete emotional breakdown.”

Colet groans, dragging a hand down her face. “Aiah, I was not built for that level of awkwardness.”

Aiah snickers. “Oh, I noticed.”

Colet jabs a finger at her. “And you—you were making it worse on purpose!”

Aiah shrugs, unapologetic. “You made it too easy.”

Colet groans again, pacing like she’s about to combust. “I swear, if I ever listen to you again—”

Aiah cuts in, grinning. “So you’re admitting you were here because of Jhoanna?”

Colet freezes.

Aiah waits.

Colet opens her mouth. Closes it. Sighs.

“…Shut up.”

Aiah bursts out laughing.

Colet slumps against the wall, defeated. “She kept looking at me like she was trying to solve me.”

Aiah tilts her head. “To be fair, you were acting insanely weird.”

Colet glares. “I panicked, okay? She caught me off guard.”

Aiah smirks. “She is pretty, huh?”

Colet scoffs. “Not the point.”

But Aiah catches the tiny pause.

Oh, that’s interesting.

She leans in, grinning. “So… what now?”

Colet sighs. “I don’t know.”

Aiah nudges her shoulder. “You could actually get to know her. Like, as a normal person. Instead of short-circuiting every time she looks at you.”

Colet grumbles. “Easier said than done.”

Aiah’s eyes gleam. “Want me to set something up?”

Colet’s eyes widen in horror. “No. Absolutely not.”

Aiah gasps. “Wait. Are you scared?”

Colet scowls. “Aiah.”

Aiah beams. “You are!”

Colet covers her face with her hands. “I hate you.”

Aiah just laughs, slinging an arm around her.

“Relax, Colet. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Colet lets out a long-suffering sigh.

“Oh, I don’t know,” she mutters. “Maybe I make a complete fool of myself again.”

Aiah pats her back cheerfully. “Well, at least this time, I’ll be there to witness it.”

Colet groans.

This is going to be a disaster.

Jhoanna sits in her car, hands gripping the steering wheel as she replays the dinner in her mind.

Something doesn’t add up.

She’s met a lot of people in her life. She’s spent years reading between the lines, navigating social interactions, knowing when someone is being weird on purpose or just… awkward.

And Colet?

Colet is awkward.

Painfully, almost suspiciously awkward.

Jhoanna exhales, tapping her fingers against the wheel.

Colet Vergara.

The name rings a bell, but not in a personal way. She’s never met her before, and yet, there she was—sitting across from her at dinner, looking like she’d rather be anywhere else in the world.

And Aiah?

Aiah had been far too entertained.

Which can only mean one thing.

Jhoanna narrows her eyes.

They’re hiding something.

She grabs her phone, opening her chat with Aiah.

Jhoanna: Okay. What’s her deal?

Aiah’s reply comes almost instantly.

Aiah: Whose deal? 🤔

Jhoanna rolls her eyes. Classic Aiah—playing dumb.

Jhoanna: Your friend. Colet. Who barely spoke two words at dinner. Who looked like she was malfunctioning every time I asked a question.

Jhoanna: She’s never been to Manila? Really?

A pause.

Then—Aiah’s response.

Aiah: What’s it to you? 😉

Jhoanna blinks.

Oh.

Oh.

She sets her phone down, staring at the dashboard as the realization slowly settles in.

Is that what this is?

Was Colet acting weird… because of her?

Jhoanna frowns, replaying the dinner in her head—every hesitation, every stiff answer, every glance Aiah and Mikha exchanged like they were sharing some inside joke.

And now Aiah’s texts?

Jhoanna clicks her tongue.

This is interesting.

And Jhoanna Robles does not like unanswered questions.

Colet is not in love.

Let’s get that straight.

She’s not in Manila because she’s hopelessly infatuated or secretly pining for Jhoanna Robles.

She’s just… curious.

That’s it. Just curiosity.

Except—

If it’s just curiosity, then why does she completely short-circuit at dinner?

Why is she still thinking about the way Jhoanna looks at her—like she’s trying to figure her out?

And why does it feel like she’s signed up for something she’s not entirely prepared for?

Colet slumps onto Aiah’s couch, rubbing her temples while Mikha and Aiah watch her like she’s their favorite new TV show.

“I hate this,” Colet mutters.

Aiah smirks. “Welcome to the club.”

Mikha grins. “I’d say you’re handling it better than I did, but… you’re really not.”

Colet groans, throwing her head back. “Shut up.”

Mikha laughs, dropping onto the couch beside her. “So, what’s your next move?”

Colet glares. “I don’t have a ‘next move.’”

Aiah raises an eyebrow. “So what, you’re just gonna avoid her?”

Colet huffs. “No.”

“Then?”

Colet sighs, rubbing the back of her neck. “…I don’t know yet.”

Mikha smirks. “Well, you better figure it out soon.”

Colet frowns. “Why?”

Mikha stretches, looking far too pleased with herself. “Because Manila girls move fast.”

Aiah snorts.

Colet groans. “I hate it here.”

Aiah grins. “You said that already.”

Colet shakes her head, muttering, “I just need to not short-circuit next time. That’s my only goal.”

Mikha chuckles, patting her back. “Good luck with that, Vergara.”

Colet scowls. “Stop saying my last name like that.”

Mikha grins. “What, like it’s the start of a rom-com?”

Aiah bursts out laughing.

And Colet?

Colet is seriously reconsidering every life decision that’s led her here.

The next day, Aiah is halfway through sorting her closet when the doorbell rings.

Mikha, sprawled across Aiah’s bed with zero intention of actually helping, raises an eyebrow. “Expecting someone?”

Aiah frowns. “No.”

On the floor, Colet mutters as she half-heartedly organizes books. “If that’s my impending doom, just tell them I’m not here.”

Aiah rolls her eyes and heads for the door.

The last person she expects to see standing outside?

Jhoanna Robles.

Coffee in one hand. Annoyingly knowing smirk on her face.

“What are you doing here?” Aiah asks, instantly suspicious.

Jhoanna grins. “What, I can’t check on my best friend who’s abandoning me for good?”

Aiah narrows her eyes. “You never visit me voluntarily.”

Jhoanna lifts the coffee like an offering. “I come bearing gifts.”

Aiah crosses her arms. “You want something.”

Jhoanna sighs dramatically. “Can’t I just want to help you pack?”

They stare at each other for a long beat.

Then—

“It’s about Colet, isn’t it?” Aiah deadpans.

Jhoanna doesn’t even flinch. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Uh-huh. Sure.” Aiah steps aside.

The moment Jhoanna enters, Mikha’s amused gaze meets hers immediately.

“Lim.”

“Robles.”

Meanwhile, Colet looks up from the floor—then freezes.

Jhoanna’s eyes flicker to her.

Casual. Way too casual.

“Oh, hey, Colet. Didn’t know you’d be here.”

“Yeah. I—uh. Yeah.”

Colet grabs the nearest book and starts pretending to read it. Upside down.

Mikha bites her knuckle to keep from laughing.

Aiah drags Jhoanna into the kitchen before Colet’s suffering gets any worse.

She sets her coffee on the counter, turning to Jhoanna with raised eyebrows. “Okay. What do you want to know?”

Jhoanna smirks. “So you’re admitting I’m here for intel?”

Aiah scoffs. “Jhoanna, you’re not subtle. Just say you’re curious.”

Jhoanna sighs, leaning against the counter. “Fine. I’m curious.”

“About what exactly?” Aiah asks, sipping her coffee.

“Don’t act innocent. Who is she?”

“Colet? My friend from Cebu. Mikha’s childhood best friend.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

Aiah grins. “Ah. You mean—‘who is she to you?’”

“Stop being annoying and just tell me.”

Aiah laughs. “What’s it to you, Jho?”

Jhoanna hesitates. Shrugs. “She’s just… interesting.”

“You sure that’s all?”

“You tell me.”

Aiah chuckles, savoring this way too much. “So… she’s just interesting, huh?”

“Don’t start.”

“I didn’t start anything. You came here, remember?”

Jhoanna sips her coffee, weighing her words. “…She was just acting weird.”

“Weird how?”

“Like she was malfunctioning.”

“She was nervous,” Aiah says simply.

Jhoanna pauses. “Because of me?”

Aiah grins. “What do you think?”

“You’re enjoying this way too much.”

“Maybe.”

“Alright, spill,” Jhoanna presses. “Who is she really? Why did she come to Manila with you? And why does she look like she wants to vanish every time I talk to her?”

Aiah hums, dragging it out before answering.

“She came here because she was curious.”

“Curious?”

“Curious about you.”

Jhoanna just stares at her, expression unreadable. Processing.

Then—finally—she exhales, leaning back against the counter.

“…Huh.”

“That’s all you’re gonna say?” Aiah prods.

“What do you want me to say?”

“Something like, ‘Wow, Aiah, I had no idea I had such an effect on people—’”

Jhoanna scoffs. “I’m aware of my effect on people.”

Aiah laughs. “Okay, Mikha Lim.”

“Shut up.”

Aiah shakes her head, grinning into her coffee.

Because despite the cool, unaffected front Jhoanna is putting up?

She’s definitely thinking about it now.

The night settles, and Aiah’s apartment is quieter now.

Mikha has made herself at home in Aiah’s room, claiming she’s “resting” (but really just scrolling on her phone), while Aiah finishes up packing the last of her clothes.

That leaves Colet and Jhoanna alone in the living room.

No distractions.

No Aiah making things worse.

No Mikha watching like she’s enjoying a soap opera.

Just them.

Jhoanna leans back on the couch, scrolling through her phone like she has all the time in the world. “So. Did you finally recover from dinner?”

Colet, who has been staring at one of Aiah’s bookshelves just to look busy, exhales.

“…Barely.”

Jhoanna smirks. “Figured.”

Colet hesitates, then risks a glance at her. “You noticed?”

Jhoanna raises an eyebrow. “Colet, you looked like you were being interrogated for a crime you didn’t commit.”

Colet groans, covering her face with her hands. “God, that bad?”

Jhoanna chuckles. “You barely spoke. At one point, you just nodded for like, three straight minutes.”

Colet winces. “Yeah… I panicked.”

“Why?” Jhoanna asks, her voice light but her gaze sharp.

Colet freezes. She could lie. She could deflect. But Jhoanna is watching her too closely now.

Finally, she exhales.

“…I don’t know.”

“You don’t?” Jhoanna tilts her head.

Colet rubs the back of her neck. “Look, I… I came here with Aiah because I was curious about Manila.”

Jhoanna hums, unconvinced.

Colet sighs. “And—maybe, also a little curious about… you.”

Jhoanna blinks. Then slowly, a smirk spreads across her face.

“Oh?”

Colet groans. “Do not make this a thing.”

Jhoanna laughs. “Too late.”

Colet shifts uncomfortably. “It’s not that deep, okay? I just…” She exhales. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

“You weren’t expecting me?” Jhoanna’s eyebrow arches.

“Not like that,” Colet says quickly. “I mean—I’ve heard about you. From Aiah. I just didn’t think…”

She trails off.

Jhoanna waits, curious now.

Colet finally looks down at her hands, voice quieter. “I just didn’t think I’d actually like talking to you.”

Jhoanna pauses.

Because that—that she doesn’t expect.

For once, she doesn’t have a quick comeback. Because she knows what people think about her. She knows how most of her interactions go—easy, playful, surface-level.

And yet, here’s Colet Vergara—someone who had clearly made up her mind before even meeting her—
Admitting she was wrong.

A small smile slips onto Jhoanna’s lips.

“Well,” she murmurs, “you didn’t really give me a chance at dinner, did you?”

Colet chuckles, shaking her head. “Yeah, I kinda screwed that up.”

Jhoanna tilts her head, watching her carefully. “So… what now?”

Colet hesitates.

Then, finally, she meets Jhoanna’s gaze and shrugs.

“I don’t know,” she admits. “Guess we’ll just figure it out.”

Jhoanna smirks. “Guess we will.”

And just like that, the tension shifts.

Not gone—

But lighter.

Something new.

Something undecided.

And for the first time that day, neither of them minds.

Chapter Text

Aiah has been mentally preparing for this night.

But she doesn’t factor in one additional variable.

Because amidst the chaos of her friends, Mikha, and Sheena—there’s also Colet.

And if the atmosphere is already charged before, adding Colet into the mix?

That just makes things twice as interesting.

The gathering is in full swing when Colet arrives.

She slides into an empty seat beside Aiah, casually reaching for a drink.

“Sorry I’m late. Had to convince myself I wouldn’t regret this.”

Aiah snorts. “You regret it yet?”

Colet scans the room—Jhoanna, Maloi, Stacey, Sheena, and Mikha all deep in conversation, laughter spilling over the music.

She shrugs. “Jury’s still out.”

Aiah grins. “Don’t worry. You’ll survive.”

Colet raises an eyebrow. “Will I?”

Before Aiah can answer, Jhoanna’s curious gaze lands on Colet.

“So,” Jhoanna leans forward, smirking. “Colet, you’re late.”

Colet meets her eyes, unfazed. “Yup.”

Jhoanna takes a slow sip of her drink. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

Expression unreadable, Colet shrugs. “Didn’t expect to be here either.”

Aiah, sensing a new layer of tension forming, clears her throat. “Anyway! Drinks, anyone?”

Maloi, watching like a spectator at a boxing match, grins. “Nah, I wanna see where this goes.”

Aiah groans.

Mikha, clearly entertained, nudges Colet. “You good?”

Colet nods casually. “Yeah. Just didn’t think I’d be meeting the rest of the Mikha Lim Fan Club tonight.”

Maloi chokes on her drink.

Stacey wheezes.

Jhoanna raises an eyebrow, amused. “Oh, you think this is a fan club?”

Colet shrugs, taking a sip. “I mean, you all did date her.”

Mikha, grinning, rests her chin on her hand. “And yet, look who won in the end.”

Aiah elbows her. “Oh my God, shut up.”

Mikha laughs, unbothered.

As the night stretches on, the conversation softens.

Somehow, Colet eases into the group dynamic without much effort.

She and Jhoanna even manage to hold a normal conversation—without Colet short-circuiting.

(Progress.)

And Aiah?

She sits back, watching it unfold—realizing, for the first time, that her worlds have somehow merged without her meaning to.

And she kind of loves it.

The night winds down, but Colet and Jhoanna?

They’re just getting started.

It begins when Jhoanna notices a book sticking out of Colet’s bag.

She raises an eyebrow. “You read this?”

Colet, lifting her drink, glances at the cover. “Yeah. Why?”

Jhoanna smirks. “Didn’t think you’d be into overrated fiction.”

Colet pauses mid-sip.

Slowly, she sets her glass down. “Overrated?”

“Yeah,” Jhoanna leans back. “Overwritten, predictable, way too focused on unnecessary angst.”

Colet scoffs. “First of all, that angst is literally the emotional core of the book.”

Jhoanna rolls her eyes. “It’s excessive.”

“It’s earned,” Colet fires back. “You just have no patience for slow emotional build-ups.”

“I have no patience for dragging out obvious conclusions.”

“Oh my God. You’re one of those people.”

Jhoanna raises an eyebrow. “And what does that mean?”

Colet leans forward, eyes narrowing in playful challenge. “You like things neat and wrapped up. No room for depth or real consequences. Just vibes and fast conclusions.”

“Excuse me?”

“You probably think a story’s only good if it has a plot twist every three chapters.”

Jhoanna gasps, offended. “I am not—”

“You totally are.”

“I just appreciate efficient storytelling!”

“Oh, so now depth is inefficient?”

Mikha, watching from a distance, nudges Aiah. “Are they… flirting or fighting?”

Aiah sighs. “Honestly? I have no idea.”

The debate drags on for five more minutes, neither backing down.

Finally, Colet sits back, shaking her head. “Aiah was so wrong about us being similar and getting along.”

Jhoanna smirks, holding her gaze. “Good. That would’ve been boring.”

And just like that, the energy shifts.

The teasing edge lingers—

But underneath it, something else simmers.

Something undecided.

Something neither of them will admit out loud yet.

And something Jhoanna is still thinking about long after Colet flies back to Cebu.

Chapter Text

The Manila trip is short but eventful, and now, as Aiah, Mikha, and Colet make their way through the airport, reality settles in.

Aiah is going home.

Not just for a visit. Not just for a break.

She is going back for good.

And this time, she isn’t looking back.

Colet, unusually quiet all morning, finally sighs as they reach their gate.

“I can’t believe I let you two talk me into this trip.”

Aiah smirks, adjusting the strap of her carry-on. “You literally booked the flight on your own.”

Mikha stretches lazily, grinning. “I’d say no regrets, right, Colet?”

Colet shoots her a dry look. “I’d say some regrets.”

Aiah snorts. “What’s the worst that happened? You just had a civil conversation with Jhoanna.”

Colet groans. “Don’t say her name.”

Mikha perks up immediately. “Ohhh. Are we at the ‘we don’t say her name’ phase now? That’s interesting.”

Colet ignores her, choosing violence instead by shoving her elbow into Mikha’s side.

Mikha grunts. “See? This is why people think you have a crush.”

Colet rolls her eyes. “For the last time, I do not have a crush.”

Aiah and Mikha exchange a look.

Then, simultaneously—

“Sure.”

Colet groans again. “I hate both of you.”

Aiah grins. “Don’t worry. You’ll survive.”

Colet slumps in her seat, muttering, “Not if I throw myself out of this plane first.”

Mikha chuckles, nudging Aiah. “I missed this.”

Aiah smiles. “Me too.”

The flight back to Cebu is uneventful, but the weight of everything settles heavier the moment they land.

Aiah isn’t leaving again.

This is it.

And as she steps out of the airport with Mikha beside her, that reality fully sinks in.

They drive in comfortable silence, the city lights blurring past.

Aiah rests her head against the window, watching familiar streets pass by.

Mikha steals glances at her every now and then, fingers tapping absently against the steering wheel. “You okay?”

Aiah sighs, closing her eyes for a second. “Yeah. Just… thinking.”

“About what?”

Aiah hesitates, then turns to her, voice quieter. “I guess… just how different everything feels now.”

Mikha nods like she understands. Because she does. “Yeah.”

For a moment, there’s only the hum of the engine and the city stretching out ahead of them.

Then Mikha exhales, gripping the wheel a little tighter before speaking.

“Move in with me.”

Aiah blinks, turning her head fully now. “Mikha—”

Mikha keeps her eyes on the road, but her voice is steady, sure. “I just—I'll always miss you. Even if you’re here, even if I know I’ll see you, I think I’ll still miss you. And I don’t want to.”

Aiah swallows, her heart suddenly too loud in her chest.

“So stay with me,” Mikha continues, softer now. “Move in with me. Let’s make this real.”

Aiah doesn’t respond right away. Because this isn’t a joke. It isn’t a flippant suggestion.

Mikha is serious.

And maybe, just maybe, Aiah has been waiting to hear those words without even realizing it.

She turns back to the window, hiding the small, overwhelmed smile tugging at her lips. “You’re really down bad, huh?”

Mikha huffs a quiet laugh. “Yeah.”

Aiah finally looks at her, eyes warmer now. “But I think I like that about you.”

Mikha reaches over, intertwining their fingers gently, her grip warm, reassuring.

“So?” Mikha murmurs, quiet hope in her voice.

Aiah squeezes her hand back.

And just like that, the answer is already there.

A few days later, Mikha casually says, “Come with me to see Ama and Angkong.”

It isn’t a big occasion—no formal invitation, no grand setup.

Just another visit, something Mikha does regularly.

But as they drive toward her grandparents’ house, Aiah realizes…

This is big.

Because this is Mikha’s family.

And now, Aiah is part of it too.

The house is just as she remembers—grand yet warm, traditional yet lived in.

Mikha pulls into the driveway like she belongs there, parking in her usual spot.

Aiah glances at her, suddenly nervous. “Are you sure they won’t mind me tagging along again?”

Mikha gives her a look. “Babe, they literally love you.”

Aiah scoffs. “You say that like they’ve known me for years.”

“Maybe it just doesn’t take them long to know when someone’s special,” Mikha smirks, stepping out of the car.

Aiah rolls her eyes, but her cheeks warm anyway.

Mikha notices.

And grins.

Ama greets them at the door, immediately taking Aiah’s hands in hers.

“Ah, Aiah! I'm so glad to see you again,” she says warmly, squeezing her hands.

Aiah smiles, relieved. “Thank you po, for welcoming me again.”

Angkong, sitting at his usual spot in the living room, nods approvingly. “We’re glad your visit wasn’t just a one-time thing.”

Aiah laughs softly, taking a seat beside Mikha on the couch.

Mikha, completely at ease, leans back with a lazy smirk. “Told you they liked you.”

Aiah nudges her. “Shut up.”

Ama chuckles, pouring tea for them. “You two are cute. Are you finally together?”

Aiah chokes, then slowly, shyly nods her head.

Mikha, grinning, just sips her tea like this is a normal question.

The visit is simple—tea, conversation, laughter.

Ama shares stories from her youth, Angkong offers business wisdom that Mikha pretends to ignore (but Aiah knows she secretly listens to).

And at some point, as the afternoon stretches on, Aiah finds herself settling in.

Like she belongs there.

Like she isn’t just visiting.

Like maybe, just maybe—this is home too.

As they’re leaving, Ama pulls Aiah aside one last time.

She pats her hand gently, gaze kind yet firm. “You take care of our Mikha, okay?”

Aiah blinks, surprised.

Before she can respond, Ama adds, “She acts strong, but she needs someone who sees her for who she really is.”

Aiah swallows, her grip tightening around Ama’s hand.

“I will po,” she promises softly.

Ama smiles. “Good. Then I expect you to come back often, okay?”

Aiah nods, glancing at Mikha—who waits for her by the car, watching with something unreadable in her expression.

And just like that, Aiah realizes—

She isn’t just in Mikha’s life.

She’s becoming part of her world.

The apartment is barely lived in.

Boxes still pile against the walls, furniture half-arranged, the scent of fresh paint lingering in the air.

It isn’t perfect yet.

But it’s theirs.

And as Mikha stands in the middle of the dimly lit living room, watching Aiah struggle to rip open a box with her bare hands, the weight of it all finally settles in.

They’ve actually done it.

They’ve moved in together.

“Are you seriously trying to rip that open?” Mikha asks, amused.

Aiah scowls at the stubborn tape, huffing. “It’s sealed like a damn vault.”

Mikha chuckles, stepping forward. “Move.”

She grabs a box cutter from the counter and, with one smooth motion, slices the tape clean.

The flaps pop open instantly.

Aiah glares. “Show-off.”

Mikha grins. “You love it.”

Aiah rolls her eyes, but a smile tugs at her lips anyway.

And for some reason, that makes Mikha’s chest feel a little too full.

They spend the next hour half-unpacking, half-procrastinating.

Mikha puts on music, Aiah lights a candle to make the place feel homey, and somehow, most of the boxes stay untouched.

Eventually, they end up on the couch, legs tangled together, a forgotten takeout container between them.

The room is dim, only the city lights filtering through the window, painting shadows on the walls.

It’s quiet.

It’s warm.

It’s the most at peace Mikha has ever felt.

She exhales, leaning her head back against the couch. “You know…”

Aiah turns, waiting.

Mikha lets out a soft chuckle, shaking her head.

“If you’d asked me a few months ago if I had plans of settling down, I would’ve laughed in your face.”

Aiah raises an eyebrow, intrigued. “Yeah?”

Mikha nods, smirking at herself. “I would’ve said, ‘Where’s the fun in that?’”

“And now?” Aiah presses gently.

Mikha tilts her head toward her, meeting her gaze.

Now… this feels like everything.

This apartment, this moment, Aiah—

This is where she belongs.

Instead of answering right away, Mikha reaches for Aiah’s hand, tracing her knuckles lightly. Then, with quiet certainty:

“Now, I get it.”

Aiah smiles softly. “Yeah?”

Mikha nods, squeezing her hand. “Yeah.”

The city outside is alive, traffic and laughter faint through the open window.

But inside?

It’s just them.

Aiah yawns, leaning her head against Mikha’s shoulder. “Are we supposed to unpack?”

Mikha smirks, pressing her chin to the top of Aiah’s head. “We could. Or…”

Aiah lifts her head, suspicious. “Or?”

“Or we leave it for future us and just enjoy the fact that we pulled this off.”

Aiah huffs a laugh. “Future us is gonna hate present us.”

“Probably.”

Silence stretches, warm and easy, until Aiah finally sighs, defeated.

“…Alright. No unpacking.”

Mikha grins. “That’s my girl.”

Aiah groans, shoving her face into Mikha’s shoulder. “Why did I move in with you again?”

Mikha chuckles, looping an arm around her waist. “Because you love me.”

“I regret everything,” Aiah muffles into her hoodie.

Mikha laughs. “Liar.”

The bedroom is just as unfinished.

Pillows in a pile, mattress on the floor, bedframe still bare.

“…We don’t even have a proper bed,” Aiah mutters.

“Luxury is a mindset,” Mikha says, flopping down without hesitation.

“That’s literally just a broke person excuse,” Aiah snorts, climbing in beside her.

Mikha grins, pulling her close. “Then let’s be broke together.”

Aiah laughs softly, but when Mikha buries her face into the crook of her neck, the teasing fades into something quieter.

Something real.

“This feels right,” Mikha murmurs against her skin.

Aiah swallows, her chest tightening. “Yeah. It does.”

Mikha pulls back just enough to meet her eyes. “You’re really here.”

Aiah smiles. “I’m really here.”

The night stretches on—pillow fights, whispered jokes, the comfort of just existing together.

Eventually, their breathing evens out, neither in a hurry to sleep.

Aiah traces lazy circles against Mikha’s arm. “This is weird,” she murmurs.

Mikha hums, half-asleep. “What is?”

“That we’re actually here.”

“You got commitment issues, babe?”

Aiah scoffs, pinching her side. “Shut up.”

Mikha chuckles, pulling her closer. “It’s not weird. Just new.”

Aiah exhales, softer now. “You’re not gonna get tired of this?”

Mikha stills.

She pulls back just enough to see Aiah’s face, her eyes steady.

“Aiah,” she murmurs, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

Her voice drops.

“I spent my whole life getting bored too easily, leaving before anyone could leave me first.”

Aiah swallows. Her heart aches.

“But you?” Mikha continues, gaze unwavering. “I’ve never wanted to stay anywhere as much as I want to stay here—with you.”

Aiah feels something catch in her throat.

Because Mikha isn’t just saying it.

She means it.

And Aiah believes her.

Mikha smiles faintly. “So no, I’m not gonna get tired of this. I don’t think I could if I tried.”

Aiah’s fingers curl around hers. “…Okay.”

Mikha tilts her head. “Okay?”

Aiah nods, smiling. “Okay.”

And for the first time, she isn’t scared of falling.

The furniture store is overwhelming—endless aisles of sofas, shelves, dining sets, and decor too perfect for actual humans.

Mikha thrives.

Aiah? Already drained.

“Why do we need three kinds of lamps?” she mutters, arms crossed as Mikha compares two nearly identical floor lamps.

“Ambiance, babe.”

Aiah rubs her temples. “We need a break.”

“You’re just scared of commitment.”

“Excuse me, I moved in with you,” Aiah deadpans.

“Exactly,” Mikha grins. “Which means you get to suffer through home decor shopping with me.”

Aiah groans into a throw pillow. “This is torture.”

Mikha laughs, tossing the pillow back. “Okay, okay. One last section.”

“Thank God,” Aiah mutters.

They turn a corner—and nearly collide with someone.

Dani freezes mid-step, eyes widening.

Mikha blinks, unbothered. “Oh. Hey.”

Aiah stiffens, glancing between them.

Dani looks from Mikha to Aiah. “You’re… still together?”

“Yeah?” Mikha replies easily.

Dani laughs softly, shaking her head. “Wow. Didn’t see that coming.”

Aiah shifts, unsure.

Mikha stays completely at ease.

“So what, you moving?” Dani gestures to the furniture around them.

“Nah,” Mikha says casually, glancing at Aiah. “Just getting things for our new home.”

Dani blinks. Once. Twice.

Then her lips curl, not in disbelief or judgment—but in genuine amusement.

She tilts her head at Aiah. “You’re really something.”

Aiah blinks, caught off guard.

There’s no mockery, no bitterness. Just… acknowledgment.

And somehow, that means something.

Mikha grins, slipping an arm around Aiah’s waist. “Yeah, she is.”

Aiah huffs, nudging her. “Let’s go.”

Dani smiles faintly, stepping aside. “See you around, Mikha.”

Mikha lifts two fingers in a lazy salute before following Aiah toward the checkout.

Neither of them looks back.

Because for the first time, Mikha isn’t running from anything.

And for the first time, Aiah isn’t doubting it.

Chapter Text

Morning light filters softly through the bedroom window, casting a golden hue over the half-unpacked boxes still sitting in the corner.

Aiah blinks awake, stretching lazily, the scent of something warm and familiar pulling her from sleep.

She turns over.

Mikha’s side of the bed is empty.

The faint sound of clinking plates and the smell of coffee and eggs drift from the kitchen.

Aiah pads out of the bedroom, rubbing sleep from her eyes.

Mikha stands by the stove, barefoot in an old band shirt, flipping eggs with the kind of confidence that makes it look like she knows what she’s doing.

(Aiah is fairly certain she doesn’t.)

Mikha glances over her shoulder, grinning. “Look who’s finally awake.”

Aiah yawns. “Why are you awake before me?”

Mikha smirks, pouring coffee into two mugs. “What, I can’t surprise my girlfriend with breakfast?”

Aiah snorts, settling onto a chair. “Let’s see if it’s actually edible first.”

Mikha gasps dramatically. “You wound me, babe.”

Aiah just smiles, watching her move around the kitchen.

And for a second, she lets it sink in.

This is her life now.

This is real.

Mikha Lim, making breakfast for them in their home.

Not a game. Not a fling.

Just them.

Mikha sets the plate in front of her with a proud smirk.

“There. Love, effort, and just a little bit of burned edges.”

Aiah chuckles, shaking her head as she picks up a fork.

She takes a bite.

Then pauses.

Mikha leans in, grinning. “Good, right?”

Aiah chews slowly.

“…Not terrible.”

Mikha groans. “Not the reaction I was hoping for.”

Aiah laughs, shaking her head.

Then—softly, naturally, effortlessly—

“I love you.”

Mikha freezes.

Aiah doesn’t even realize she’s said it out loud until she sees the look on Mikha’s face.

Wide-eyed, lips slightly parted—like she’s been caught completely off guard.

For the first time, Mikha Lim is speechless.

Aiah, heart racing, bites her lip. “What, no smart comeback?”

Mikha blinks. Then—a slow, growing grin.

“Say it again.”

Aiah rolls her eyes, but her smile is soft. “You’re annoying.”

Mikha steps closer, hands braced on Aiah’s chair, trapping her in.

“Say it again,” she murmurs, grinning.

Aiah exhales, looking up at her.

Then, finally—without hesitation—

“I love you, Mikha Lim.”

And just like that, Mikha leans in and kisses her.

The breakfast goes cold.

The coffee sits untouched.

But neither of them cares.

Because for the first time—there are no games, no running, no hesitation.

Just love.

And Aiah has never meant anything more.

Later that day, the chaos crew arrives.

Jhoanna is the first one through the door.

Followed immediately by Maloi, Stacey, and Sheena, their luggage in tow—fresh off their flight from Manila, way too eager to see what Aiah’s new life with Mikha actually looks like.

And right behind them?

Gwen.

And Colet.

And suddenly, Aiah realizes she’s made a mistake.

She should never have invited all of them at the same time.

Maloi whistles, impressed. “Damn, Mikha. You really locked it down, huh?”

Mikha, completely unfazed, throws an arm around Aiah’s shoulder. “Of course. Have you met her? She’s perfect.”

Aiah groans. “Mikha.”

Stacey grins. “Honestly? Can’t believe it’s real.”

Sheena sips her drink, nodding. “Feels like we should be taking bets on how long it lasts.”

Aiah narrows her eyes. “You guys are actual menaces.”

Mikha smirks, squeezing Aiah’s waist. “It’s okay, babe. They’re just jealous.”

Maloi cackles. “I promise you, we are not.”

Jhoanna, arms crossed, smirks at Mikha. “You treating her right?”

Mikha nods, dead serious. “Always.”

Jhoanna holds her gaze for a second.

Then nods approvingly. “…Good.”

Just like that, the tension melts away.

Across the room—

Colet barely settles in when someone slides into the seat next to her.

Jhoanna.

Colet stiffens immediately. “Why are you sitting here?”

Jhoanna sips her drink, casual. “Why, does it make you nervous?”

Colet scowls. “I take it back. You’re not interesting at all.”

Jhoanna smirks. “Sure, Colet.”

Gwen, watching from a distance, mutters to Aiah, “Are they always like this?”

Aiah sighs. “Unfortunately, yes.”

Mikha chuckles beside her. “You set them up for this.”

Aiah rolls her eyes. “I didn’t think it would actually work.”

Mikha nudges her. “You’re dangerous, babe.”

Aiah smirks. “You love it.”

Mikha leans in, whispering, “Yeah. I do.”

The night stretches on—bickering, laughter, teasing, the kind of chaotic energy only old friendships can bring.

And as Aiah looks around at the people who’ve been with her through everything, she realizes—

She isn’t choosing between her past and her future.

She has them both.

And it’s perfect.

Later that night, they find themselves in a bar int he city.

The place is dim, music low, conversations overlapping.

They’ve only come out for a drink to celebrate—nothing more.

But trouble always has a way of finding Aiah.

The guy at the bar is persistent. Not aggressive, just insistent enough to be annoying. He’s mistaken her earlier politeness as an invitation to linger.

Aiah is about to excuse herself when she feels someone slide up beside her, an arm draping casually around her shoulders.

“Hey, babe, sorry I couldn’t find a parking spot quickly.”

Aiah freezes.

She turns her head. Mikha is smirking, effortlessly smug, clearly enjoying herself.

The guy blinks, stepping back. “Oh, uh—”

Mikha raises an eyebrow, pulling Aiah closer. “Something wrong?”

The guy hesitates, then shakes his head quickly. “No, sorry, I didn’t realize—”

He doesn’t finish. He mumbles something about getting back to his table and disappears.

Silence lingers as Aiah turns to Mikha, caught between disbelief and amusement.

“You did it again,” she mutters, raising an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

Mikha shrugs, unbothered. “What can I say? It’s a good line.”

Aiah rolls her eyes. “You just like playing the hero.”

Mikha’s smirk softens into something quieter. “No,” she murmurs. “I just like being the person you turn to.”

Aiah’s breath hitches.

Because there it is in her eyes—something soft, unmistakable.

No pretense. No fake act.

This time, it’s different.

Because this time, they’re real.

Aiah swallows, looking away with a small shake of her head. “You’re so annoying.”

Mikha chuckles, pressing a kiss to her temple. “And yet,” she teases, “you love me anyway.”

Aiah exhales, pretending to be exasperated.

But the small, fond smile tugging at her lips betrays her.

Yeah.

She really does love Mikha Lim. With everything she has. With everything she is.