Chapter Text
Nine zero nine in the morning. The digits stared back at her from the digital clock, plastered like a quiet declaration of routine. Aiah always liked mornings—not because she hated evenings, but because mornings gave her something she rarely got elsewhere: time alone.
She loved evenings too, maybe even more. But they felt... different. Mornings were peaceful, predictable. She'd lace her shoes, run through the quiet neighborhood surrounding her apartment, and let her mind clear. That was her kind of therapy. A form of respect to herself. Her little ceremony of control before the day unraveled. That’s her own courtesy.
Evenings, on the other hand, belonged to something unexpected. Something that changed everything for her about a year ago: guns. What was supposed to be a once-in-a-lifetime experience had turned into a ritual. A loud, heavy, adrenaline-filled ritual.
It doesn’t mean she’s badly addicted to it. To be honest, it is kinda her escape from the silence. Aiah thought to herself that she is weird in a way that likes living in peace but at the same time, wanna-ruin-it by hearing loud shots. A lot of different models of guns to try, weights, and identifying each noises.
Today was no different. Morning run? Done. Afternoon job hunting? Portfolio submitted. And now, she stood at her sanctuary, a familiar steel-and-concrete world that felt more like home than her apartment did. Her eyes scanned the wall lined with rifles and pistols. She was about to test her 87th gun.
Yep. She was counting. Regular na siya rito. In fact, the owner of the shooting range, Gwen, already had her memorized schedule. They were practically friends now—or as close as Aiah allowed people to get.
“Balak mo ba subukan lahat baril na meron dito?” Aiah turned her head away from the wall. She knows that no one can resist her. It will be a downfall considering that she’s paying for this habit of hers.
Smirking like she always did when caught in her element. “Definitely,” she said with confidence. “Why? Feel ko ipapa-wanted list mo na ‘ko one day.”
Gwen laughs, tolerating it anyway. She unclasped the gun that Aiah would want to try, unpinning some protection then handed it to her, “You know my rules.”
Aiah rolled her eyes playfully. “Anyway, higpitan mo nang maayos ‘yan. Malakas ang force ng shoot niyan,” Gwen added, putting on her earmuffs.
“Noted. Ano name nito?” Aiah asked, her fingers tracing the gun’s sleek body.
“AK-47 ‘yan, popular to the mass kasi easy gamitin.” Gwen said.
Aiah nodded, she knows what it is but just forgot the name, she’d been searching a lot so it wasn’t her fault, “Naalala ko nga. Relatively expensive on what I've researched. Hindi lang accurate every shot though.”
Neither of them spoke again and Aiah knew that it was her entry to test the gun. The range had individual booths separated by glass panels. Aiah made her way to the far-right corner, where a wall offered a sense of comfort and focus. Her spot. Always her spot.
She looped the gun strap over her neck and fitted her earmuffs snugly. She liked the noise, yes, but she wasn’t trying to go deaf. Safety mattered. Passion didn’t mean recklessness.
The AK-47 was a beast. Thirty rounds in three seconds. Automatic fire. Without protection, it would be chaos for anyone’s ears.
She adjusted her stance, braced the gun against her shoulder. The eyeglass protection did not bother her eyes to know where the aim she wanted to shoot so she gripped it hard then released the trigger.
Ten bullets agad per second.
Time passed. Aiah still having the great time of her night. It was really easy to use, no regret trying it even though the kickback was wild, but she expected it.
“Magbubukas na ‘ko, kalma mo lang,” Gwen remarks, leaving the shooting area to open the main door entrance upstairs.
Aiah didn’t respond, just nodded slightly. The gun she was holding was out of ammunition, she slowly pulled it down away from her shoulder. She felt a tug because of its force. She gladly thanks herself that she arrived here twenty minutes before the opening. Her reason was that what if someone might steal her spot or that someone else might use the next gun she wanted to try.
As much as she loves everything, she hates waiting. Adrenaline is her buddy.
Moments later, Gwen returned from the main door upstairs, and Aiah could hear the unmistakable sound of new arrivals.
Probably new people na susubok o mga bumabalik na customer.
Aiah ignored the arrival, minding her own business. She returned to the wall where all the guns were and picked a new one to try.
“You told me na bumalik ako, I couldn’t resist,” A female voice that sounded familiar inserts her ears, “Sinama ko na lang friend ko, she wanted to try it too.”
Aiah can already sense that Gwen is smiling, she can recall that voice. That woman was there last Monday and for some reason, flirting with Gwen.
“No need to obey my offer, Mikha,” Gwen said, “Hi! Welcome to an underground shooting range. Secluded ‘tong area and legal since may authorize, no need to worry.”
Aiah is still not looking at them and just listening. She couldn’t care less anyway.
USP-45 nabasa niya sa tag na nakadikit sa likod.
There’s already chatting from the counter that she didn’t bother to listen anymore so she got back to her spot. She’s still wearing the earmuffs and eye protection, she glances a second at them if they are wearing ear protectors too then she glances away quickly too when she confirms they are.
Aiah back to set. She locked in the first batch of the bullets then squinted her eyes to aim the point again.
She fired.
Then a gun noise.
Aiah really loves it.
After twelve rounds of bullets, Aiah can tell it was better than AK-47 because of the high-impact and accuracy of the aim. Each shot was controlled, powerful. She liked it.
She’s still learning about firearms and she couldn’t wait to try them all. Goal niya kasi one hundred.
Aiah was getting close.
She was about to remove the eyeglass protection when someone tapped her shoulder.
Without thinking who it was, she turned around.
Aiah’s eyebrows raised, not in an attitude way but confused way.
The woman standing before her was wearing a brown leather jacket, half-zipped. White shirt. Baggy pants. Straight brunette hair that framed her face effortlessly. Black sunglasses hung from the collar of her shirt. There was something striking about her. Her aura. Her posture.
She has a very defined feature on her face, simple and composed. Tall. Sharp eyed. Drowning. For some reason, Aiah finds her intimidating at first glance. Her style was cool and she would admit that they are similar.
Then she smiled.
The woman smiled.
A baddie to a sunshine real quick.
“Uh… Gwen asked me to go to you,” The woman said, confidently.
Aiah remained her head composed, “Why?” she asked, after observing the every inch corner of the latter's face, she returned to removing the thing from her eye.
“Tuturuan mo raw ako sa gun?” She continued, “I'm Stacey by the way.”
Aiah almost reacted dramatically. She doubts that she can accept the joke, she’s not feeling it right now. This should be her peaceful night's rest because she wasn’t able to order the coffee she wanted earlier, “Ask her again. I'm not a crew member here.”
“Tinanong ko na siya twice,” The woman—Stacey said, trying to meet Aiah’s gaze, “Ikaw lang naman kasama niya rito so I don't think na mali ako.”
The reply was calm, not doubting any second thoughts. Aiah scoffs quietly because of how Stacey is so sure.
Mukha ba siyang crew dito?
She’s having her time shooting.
Aiah wondered if spending too much time at the shooting range can really change others' perspective of her.
Aiah now removes her earmuffs, then sighs, “Sabihin mo sakaniya na siya mag accommodate sa ‘yo. She’s the owner.”
Stacey stood there remaining her stance as if not believing Aiah that she’s not a guide-for-gun there, “Look at the owner.”
Aiah should've avoided doing it but it was too late because after she turned to her left, Gwen was right there beside Mikha, guiding her to the other rifle that she had tried last week. And to her more surprise, Stacey standing behind her back, she’s not close but Aiah caught a glimpse of her perfume. Not too sweet but not too strong either. A balance.
“Again, regular customer lang ako dito,” Aiah glanced away, reaching the gun she just used on top of the plywood table to return it to the wall.
“Are you sure? Si Gwen na nagsabi sa ‘kin,” she repeated, firm and calm, “Guide me lang paano sisimulan then pwede mo na ‘ko pabayaan,” Stacey insisted.
Aiah’s head can literally melt right now in frustration, “Ang kulit mo ‘no?”
“I didn’t came here para pumilit ng tao na turuan ako,” Stacey replied with a hint of sarcasm and demanding.
One thing about Aiah, she can control herself as much as she wants to. A skill and a talent. But one thing for sure is Gwen is not getting away with the situation she's having right now.
Aiah shrugs, “So much to say, kunin mo na ‘to,” then throws the pistol to Stacey—luckily she catches it.
“Kagulat naman! Thanks siguro!” Stacey exclaimed, slightly startled but didn’t complain because she knew she really wanted to try it.
Aiah stepped back from her booth, slipped on her earmuffs again, and motioned toward the open spot with a hand—a silent offer for Stacey to take the other place.
Without hesitation, Stacey stepped down into Aiah’s space.
“I like it here,” she said simply, eyes fixed forward, not even glancing at Aiah—who was now mentally spiraling.
“That’s my spot,” Aiah muttered.
Stacey turned, a half-smile playing on her lips. “May pangalan ba?”
Aiah frowned, caught off-guard. She wasn’t used to people—especially the kind who didn’t come with labels or personas she could easily sort through.
“Let’s just start,” she said curtly, brushing off the tension. “Hold the gun tight.”
“Okay!” Stacey beamed, gripping the pistol with both hands, a little too excitedly.
Aiah stood by, watching as Stacey struggled to find her footing. She tried one hand, then two, adjusting her stance, peeking down the sides like she was figuring out a dance move. A quiet sigh escaped Stacey.
Aiah couldn’t help the scoff.
She stepped forward without thinking, reached for Stacey’s hands and the gun, then adjusted her grip with practiced ease. She guided Stacey’s right hand, then her left, until they were positioned properly.
“There. Squeeze it tight before firing—it’ll kick back,” Aiah explained, still holding her hands over Stacey’s.
Stacey didn’t miss a beat.
“Pwede mo na ‘ko bitawan, by the way,” she said lightly, glancing sideways at Aiah.
Aiah blinked, startled. She froze, then awkwardly let go, as if Stacey’s skin had suddenly burned her.
“Sorry,” she mumbled, barely audible, retreating to lean against the glass panel beside them.
Stacey smiles without a sound. She positioned herself just like what Aiah said then squinted her eyes to aim the red target.
3
2
1
Bang.
Aiah tracked the bullet with steady eyes. It didn’t hit the center, but it landed cleanly in the red zone.
Stacey, however, flinched—not at the sound, but at the jolt of the gun. The recoil pushed her off balance, and she stumbled sideways… straight into Aiah.
“Oh my god! Nagulat ako!” she gasped, startled and wide-eyed.
Like a scaredy-cat.
Aiah, caught completely off guard, froze. Stacey’s weight pressed against her chest, soft and sudden, her scent invading Aiah’s senses like wildfire. The perfume was maddening, sweet and warm and absolutely unforgettable. Aiah’s back was already against the glass—no room to retreat.
Stacey’s presence felt like a heatwave.
And God, why did she have to smell that good?
Aiah hated perfumes.
Realizing the closeness, Stacey quickly pulled back. “Hala, sorry!” she blurted, clearly panicking.
Aiah was still out of breath. Didn’t respond.
“Okay ka lang?” Stacey asked, then tapped her shoulder.
“No, don’t…” touch me, was what she meant to say, but the words caught halfway.
Stacey blankly stares at her, “Ha?”
“I’m okay… just continue,” Aiah finally said, voice barely holding steady. She turned away fast and dipped off the booth like it was suddenly too small to contain her.
Stacey stood there watching her leave her side and returning towards the counter, she shrugs it off then continues what she’s doing.
Then, Aiah.
Leaned by the counter, finally exhaling the breath she had not realized she’d been holding.
“Uuwi ka na?” Gwen suddenly appeared behind her tapping on her shoulder.
Aiah flinched again, “Stop tapping my shoulder!” she snapped, but not too loudly.
Gwen confusingly raises her eyebrows, “Dude, okay ka lang ba?”
“Why did you assign me para magturo sakaniya? Hibang ka ba?” Aiah hissed.
Gwen chuckled. “Sorry, I thought sabi mo gusto mo rin magturo?”
“Yeah, pero hindi ngayon,” Aiah muttered, eyes still locked on the booth, “At least inform me, jusko ka.”
Gwen looked where Aiah’s gazing at. Stacey is still at the booth shooting the pistol to the target. And now it clicked.
“Is the gay tension, tension-ing?” Gwen glances back smirking at Aiah who’s probably losing her mind.
Aiah scowled, “What?”
“Don’t tell me pinagamit mo sakaniya spot mo?”
“Aalis na ‘ko,” Aiah quickly responded. Spinning on her heel.
Aiah heared Gwen giggled when she ran upstairs. She was fuming, really. How did she let that newcomer use that spot smoothly without arguing about it?
Outside, she exits the building and quickly jumps onto her big bike.
The polluted air didn’t even get through her nose when before wearing her helmet, she smelled something.
Aiah sniffed her hand. Nothing. She sniffed the helmet. Nothing.
Then when she reached out to her white jacket, brought her sleeve closer.
Then she realized.
Stacey’s perfume lingered on to clothes like it belonged there.
Aiah groaned, staring into the gray sky. “You’re kidding,” she whispered.
Aiah arrived at her apartment in a bad mood—tonight was the first time in her life she didn’t enjoy the night at all. She hadn’t even gotten her usual dawn coffee because the line at her go-to coffee shop was ridiculously long. On top of that, her firing gun night got messed up.
Still, she loved it in a way—she added two more guns to her list.
That makes 88 in total, just 12 more to go.
She hung her house and bike keys on the stem plant attached to the wall near her door and headed straight to her room, not even bothering to turn on the lights despite the darkness.
Aiah quietly opened her closet to change into a silk nightdress.
She could still smell the woman's perfume on her jacket.
She rummaged through her closet with her hands, but since she was too lazy to turn on the light, she couldn’t see the clothes properly. Frustrated, she gave up and closed the closet.
Ngayon gabi lang ako nairita sa lahat. Aiah whispered to herself.
She dropped her body onto her bed and lay on her stomach. She hadn’t eaten yet. Aiah didn’t know why she wasn’t hungry.
She placed her arms near her face to get comfortable, but she got distracted again—by the scent of the perfume.
That smell just wouldn’t leave her.
If her nose could describe it, it would say it smelled like a baby’s natural scent mixed with the freshness of nature. Everything about it was natural—no sharp notes, nothing that could give you a headache. It was the kind of scent that didn’t irritate you. That’s how she would describe it. Super simple, and for some reason...
Aiah sniffed again and breathed through it, because despite hating perfumes, she actually really loved this one.
She wondered where the girl bought it.
Aiah had already forgotten her name, but one thing she knew—the scent would never leave her.
Naalala niya pa paano sila kalapit kanina sa isa't isa. Aiah whines quietly because it keeps repeating on her head.
“Sino ka ba?” Aiah frowned.
The next night came, and Aiah skipped her usual routine.
Her inbox was bombarded with scheduled job interviews—three, to be exact. Which wasn’t a lot considering she’d only submitted that many. The results?
Just okay.
And by “okay,” she meant two of them had gone down in flames, while the last one? Barely decent. She’d walked out of those buildings with nothing but a half-hearted hope and a mental note to try again tomorrow. If those didn’t work out, then on to the next.
She was used to it by now—rejection. The sting of it had numbed over time. If she hadn’t saved some money from her previous job—the one that collapsed three months ago—she might not even be here. Living, surviving, functioning.
So, to clear her head after that emotionally taxing day, she went back to the only place that gave her a strange sense of calm.
The shooting range.
“Gwen?” she muttered, stepping into the familiar space, eyes scanning for the usual face behind the counter.
Empty.
She glanced at the range panels—still, no one. But something caught her attention. Guns. Lying there on one of the booths.
Worse? They were in her booth.
“Himala, you came back,” a voice greeted casually.
Gwen emerged from a corner, tugging her gloves off like she’d been waiting.
“As if I won’t,” Aiah muttered, sighing as her eyes returned to her occupied station. “Bakit may gamit doon sa place ko?”
Gwen didn’t miss a beat. She cast a quick glance in the direction and began walking back toward the counter. “Favorite ng favorite customer mo.”
Aiah furrowed her brows, confused. “Favorite customer ko? Sinasabi mo diya’n.”
Before Gwen could elaborate, a sharp click of heels echoed behind them.
“Oh, ayan na pala,” Gwen said, her tone casual but laced with something else.
Aiah turned around slowly, bracing herself.
Black heels. Familiar pants. Then, a soft pink shirt. Her gaze met a face she wasn't prepared to see again.
A moment of stunned silence hit Aiah like a memory dump. She watched as Stacey walked in, just as relaxed and confident as ever. That same woman. The one who threw Aiah’s composure off without even trying.
Her life briefly flashed before her eyes.
That woman.
Is here.
She shot a death glare at Gwen. “Why did you allow her to use mine? I told you habang wala ako, ‘wag mo ipagamit.”
Gwen just laughed. “Wala akong choice, ‘no. She insisted,” she said with a shrug. “Also… hinanap ka pa niya kahapon. Wala ka kasi.”
Before Aiah could even open her mouth to respond, a hand landed on her shoulder.
“Uy, nandito ka na!”
Aiah nearly choked on air.
That voice. That same voice from a few days ago.
And that hand—it had a way of claiming space on her body without asking, yet somehow didn’t feel threatening.
She turned to face her out of politeness.
“Bakit wala ka kahapon? I was looking for you eh.”
Aiah swallowed her urge to say, none of your business. Instead, she muttered, “Busy.”
“Ah, okay… So ngayon pwede mo na ‘ko turuan! Tara,” the woman chirped before spinning around and heading toward the panels like it was an order, not a request.
She didn’t even ask if Aiah was free. Just assumed. Aiah stared at her, debating between walking out or giving in.
She was this close to walking.
“Sige na, Aiah, go. I will cover your payment for your suffering,” Gwen said with a grin.
That got her.
It was a sweet deal. No payment, no guilt for spending what little she had left on this “habit.” Just pure mental release.
“Wait for my revenge talaga, Gwen,” she muttered, eyes squinting in mock threat as she held up two fingers for an eye-to-eye signal.
“Nakakatakot naman?” Gwen scoffed, clearly unbothered.
Aiah walked ahead, her steps heavier than usual. She didn’t know if the people around her were just taking advantage of her reluctant kindness, or if she was just always the one who ended up doing things she didn’t want to do.
“You’re holding it wrong,” she muttered as soon as she got close. The woman in pink startled. “Huwag mo hahawakan sa taas, sa baba mo lang alalayan.”
“Aren’t you so trained?” the woman teased. “Akala ko hindi ka crew member dito?”
Aiah stayed focused. “Magpapaturo ka or not? Kasi I will get my spot back.”
“Ang grumpy mo lagi. Sige na, hawakan mo kamay ko.”
Aiah froze.
“What?” she asked, as if she’d misheard.
“Like last time, hinawakan mo kamay ko para sa tamang hawak ng baril.”
“No, I’m allergic.” The words came out of her mouth before she could stop them.
The woman laughed, and it was different.
Aiah had heard laughter from others before—casual, simple—but this one was something else. Her eyes disappeared into half-moons, whisker-like dimples formed at the edges of her cheeks. Most people hated those.
But somehow, it looked good on her.
Strangely good.
And for a second, Aiah couldn’t help but think—She kinda looks like that cat from that old game... Talking Angela.
“Allergic? Funny ka rin pala,” she replied.
Aiah fought back a smile. “What’s… your name again?”
“...Stacey,” she said, raising a brow. “Nakalimutan mo na ako agad? Damn, I'm really that easy to forget.”
“I…” Aiah paused. She couldn’t tell if Stacey was hurt or just being sarcastic. Either way, she replied, “You are.” A half-hearted jab.
A lie, though.
Stacey had left a mark. Not just her face, but her scent—still clinging to Aiah’s jacket from two days ago.
How could she forget?
She remembered everything else but her name.
A misstep she wouldn’t admit.
“Nandito ka ba lagi?” Stacey asked, adjusting her grip and finally firing a shot. This time, she didn’t flinch.
Aiah watched the bullet land. “Hmm.”
“Bakit?” Stacey pressed.
“You have a lot of questions,” Aiah replied, her voice low.
“Hindi ako sanay na walang kausap. So, bakit nga?”
Aiah hesitated.
There were two reasons she came here.
One, she was trying to complete her personal goal—hold and fire 100 different guns.
Two, she simply loved the skill it took.
“I don’t know,” Aiah said, remaining her eyes on the target that Stacey’s eyeing. “I love ruining my peace.”
“Interesting reason,” Stacey nodded, reloading her mini rifle. “Ako kasi sanay na ‘ko sa ingay kaya I got interested when Mikha invited me to come here.”
That piqued Aiah’s interest. She didn’t think asking back would be satisfying, but screw it—she was already here. “What do you mean by sanay?”
Stacey let go of the rifle, managing to hit one of five targets. Not bad for a beginner. Aiah didn’t comment. “Dj ako,” she answered, turning to face her.
“Bar?” Aiah asked instinctively.
Stacey laughed. “Kapag Dj, bar agad? Grabe na talaga.”
“Well, I couldn’t think of any. Music doesn’t interest me,” Aiah said bluntly.
Stacey gasped. “Seryoso ka ba? Girl, music is everything!”
“I meant is—I like listening but not to the point na kilala ko lahat ng artists or even song titles,” Aiah clarified. She didn’t know why she was explaining herself, but somehow, she felt like she had to.
“What the heck, ang rare mo naman,” Stacey scoffed.
Aiah shrugged. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“Hindi ako sa bar nagde-dj,” Stacey said, leaning against the wall.
“Saan?”
Stacey hesitated.
Aiah noticed.
“Confidential, sorry,” Stacey whispered, hand over her lips like it was a secret.
Aiah rolled her eyes. “Well, I will remain thinking that you’re a DJ in a bar.”
“No issue,” Stacey grinned. “Ano name mo? Hindi ko pa alam.”
Aiah opened her mouth—then paused.
Giving her real name felt too easy. Too vulnerable.
So she lied.
“Ai,” she said.
Stacey raised her eyebrows. “Ha? Eye? Like mata?”
Aiah cracked a smile for the first time, amused by her own mischief. “Ai. A and I.”
“Ah! Parang si Ai Ai na comedian,” Stacey said, nodding like she’d figured out a puzzle.
“Hmm,” Aiah only mumbled in response, fighting the growing warmth creeping up her cheeks.
Stacey stared at her for a moment—just long enough to make Aiah uncomfortable—before finally breaking into a smile. It wasn’t teasing, or flirty, or anything dramatic. Just a soft, genuine smile. And of course, Aiah had no idea what to do with that. She averted her gaze quickly, pretending to focus on the nearest wall like it suddenly became the most interesting thing in the room.
“Okay, Ai! Balik ko na ‘tong rifle,” Stacey said, already moving to disassemble the gun with practiced ease. She took a step back from the booth, stretching briefly as she added, “Kailangan ko na rin kasing umalis.”
Aiah should’ve just nodded and let it go.
But then their shoulders brushed—barely, just for a second—and the scent hit her again. Shit.
Aiah was wearing a different jacket now. Green. The white one from two days ago was still draped at the edge of Aiah’s bed, untouched, unwashed, almost like it had claimed territory in her room. She kept telling herself it was just laziness. That she hadn’t brought it down to the laundry because she was busy or distracted or just plain tired.
But deep down she knew—she didn’t want to let go of it.
Ito na naman tayo, Aiah muttered to herself mentally, feeling the start of another spiral.
Despite herself, she found her feet trailing after Stacey, heading toward the wall of mounted guns. They stopped side by side, scanning the selection, though Aiah’s eyes were unfocused.
She wasn’t even sure why she was doing this anymore. What was the goal? Mastery? Validation? A personal challenge?
Ego? No. Happiness? Definitely not. Satisfaction? Maybe.
“Cool mo. Nasubukan mo na pala ibang baril dito?” Stacey asked beside her, setting the rifle back into its slot and locking it in place with a casual flick.
The question was harmless, maybe even admiring—but Aiah’s mind was too caught in its own chaos.
Trying to impress someone?
“No!” she blurted out, louder than she meant to. It came out so abruptly that Stacey paused and looked at her, eyebrows raised in confusion.
“Huh?” Stacey asked.
Aiah blinked, realizing what just happened. Nice, idiot. Very smooth.
“Wait—huh? Yes, I did. Sorry,” she stammered, finally correcting herself.
Stacey just grinned, clearly amused, and gave a small nod. “Grabe, kalma sa paghawak ng baril, Ai,” she chuckled softly, the sound light and disarming. “Una na ‘ko. Balik ako tomorrow kapag may time.”
She turned on her heel without waiting for a response. Aiah didn’t say anything—she couldn’t. She just watched her walk away, eyes trailing after the steady, confident rhythm of Stacey’s steps as she made her way to the counter where Gwen was stationed.
There was something about the way Stacey moved. Not showy or dramatic, just… intentional. Like she had nothing to prove and yet still managed to draw attention without trying.
That was the thing about her—she didn’t even know people were watching.
And Aiah hated how curious that made her feel.
“Thanks, Gwen! Sabihan ko si Mikha,” Stacey called out, waving as she finished her payment.
Aiah felt her pulse quicken.
Stacey was leaving—turning away, stepping further from the counter and closer to the stairs—and Aiah couldn’t breathe right. Her hands were clenched at her sides, not from nerves of the gun range this time, but from the tight coil of panic in her chest.
She was still arguing with herself.
Should she let it go?
Should she just walk away and ignore the tug in her brain?
But no—there was something she needed to know. Not emotionally deep, not intellectually groundbreaking, but irrationally persistent.
She wanted to know what Stacey’s perfume was.
That scent had clung to her since their last encounter—like a whisper, like a hug she couldn’t forget. It wasn’t heavy or floral or anything overly luxurious. It was just soft. Comforting. Like powder and warm skin. Like something you couldn’t forget even if you tried.
And Aiah had tried. Several times. But here she was, standing frozen, still thinking about it.
Just ask. Wala namang mawawala.
But the words caught somewhere between her throat and her pride. Stacey had almost reached the door upstairs. It happened—Aiah didn’t even feel her lips move, but the sound was already hanging in the air.
“Hey...” she called. Gwen is witnessing this but she will deal with that later.
Stacey turned around instantly, blinking at her, a bit surprised. “Uy, bakit?”
Aiah bit her tongue. Back out now. Say something else. Anything else. But her mouth didn’t get the memo.
“I’m just curious,” she said, voice flatter than intended, “What’s your perfume?”
There was a beat of silence. They both stared at each other, neither of them expecting that to be the question. Not a thank-you, not a casual goodbye, not even a sarcastic joke.
Aiah mentally braced herself for the downfall. She could already feel her sanity breaking apart like glass—she was seconds away from crawling into the nearest hole.
“Perfume?” Stacey echoed, eyebrows furrowing as if Aiah had just asked her for her blood type. Then she tilted her head and smiled, genuinely puzzled. “I don’t use perfume.”
It hit Aiah like a sniper bullet.
No perfume?
No. Perfume?!
She blanked out. Completely.
Standing right there, feet rooted to the spot, brain crashed. She couldn’t think, couldn’t speak, couldn’t blink.
If Stacey wasn’t wearing any perfume then what the hell was that scent?
That soft, addicting, baby-powder-like fragrance that followed her around like a second skin?
Like the freaking Babyflo.
Aiah couldn’t move.
She didn’t know whether to cry, laugh, or throw herself into the nearest gun locker. Because this wasn’t fair. This woman—this living contradiction of confidence and chaos—just naturally smelled like that?
God help me.
Aiah stared after her, dazed, as Stacey gave her one last smile and walked out the door—unknowingly leaving a crisis in her wake.
“Mukha kang tanga diya’n,” Gwen’s voice pierced through her thoughts like a thorn snapping her out of a trance. Aiah groaned internally. Of all people to notice her very public spiral, it had to be Gwen.
She didn’t even bother looking back. “How much would I pay that red-haired to make you shut up?” she muttered, voice low with exasperation.
But Gwen wasn’t the type to back down—especially not when she was winning whatever invisible game they were always playing.
“How much would I bet that you had been smelling her?” Gwen shot back with a mischievous grin, arms crossed like she had just caught Aiah red-handed in a crime of the heart.
Aiah paused. The audacity. The nerve.
She wasn’t even smelling Stacey! That was just a coincidence. Accidental brush of shoulders, ambient air, residual jacket scent—none of that counted as intentional. And even if it did… how the hell was she supposed to tell the difference between perfume and someone’s natural scent anyway? She wasn’t a bloodhound!
Before she could form a halfway decent protest, the front door chimed—several new customers walking in, bringing a burst of cold air and distraction with them. Aiah sighed, clenching her jaw as she stomped her way back to her booth, heavy-footed like a sulking kid.
Stacey was messing her up.
Mentally, emotionally, maybe even existentially.
See? I asked and may nawala. Sanity ko. Aiah whispered to herself. She checked her phone allowing to know what time it is—early than she expected.
Her eyes read 9:09 pm.