Archive of Our Own

Manila, 2008

Mikha paused in the doorway, adjusting the strap of her canvas tote as she took in the bright, humming office for the first time.

She wasn’t dressed like most of the other women there. No sharp pencil skirts or crisp blazers. Instead, she had on a slightly oversized white graphic tee tucked into dark skinny jeans, her sleeves pushed up to her elbows. A lightweight olive-green bomber hung loosely on her shoulders, and her well-worn white sneakers squeaked softly against the polished floor.

Her thick black-framed glasses kept slipping down the bridge of her nose, and she pushed them up with a shy, practiced gesture as she glanced around. Her hair was pulled into a neat ponytail, a few strands already working themselves loose, framing her face.

The canvas tote at her side looked like it was crammed full—probably a water bottle and a spiral-bound notebook poking out—a telltale sign that this new girl was as practical as she was casual.

There was an ease to her, like someone who might’ve biked into work that morning or could just as easily sprint across a soccer field after clocking out. Nerdy and a little quiet, yes, but undeniably comfortable in her own skin.

And across the office, Aiah caught sight of her.

She paused mid-sip of her iced coffee. The sunlight pouring in through the office windows hit the new girl just right—and before she could stop herself, her heart did a small flip.

“Sino yan?” she whispered, leaning toward her desk neighbor, Stacey.

Stacey followed Aiah’s gaze, one brow arching. “New sports writer, I think. I heard she’d be starting today,” Stacey replied, smirking. “May morning entertainment ka na.”

“Gaga,” Aiah hissed, feeling heat creep up her cheeks. She sat up straighter as the new girl glanced her way, then quickly looked back at her laptop as if the article on the screen was the most fascinating thing in the world.

Maloi, seated across the table and forever tuned into the office gossip frequency, peeked over the divider. “Invite natin for lunch, you want?” she teased.

Aiah kicked Maloi under the desk. “Baliw, wag!” she protested—but even she could hear the dreamy softness in her own voice.

—

Mikha sat in the small HR office, hands folded in her lap as the HR manager went over company policies. The whole thing felt a bit surreal—like she was still half-asleep and dreaming—but she nodded along politely, trying to focus on the paperwork and orientation slides.

Through the glass wall behind the HR desk, Stacey and Maloi kept passing by in the hallway. First they simply glanced in, pretending they weren’t looking. Then they did it again, this time making absolutely zero effort to hide their curiosity.

Each time they appeared, Stacey would raise her brows and grin, making an exaggerated heart with her hands. Maloi followed suit a second later, mouthing a very obvious “ang cute niya!” before nudging Stacey in delight.

Mikha, feeling their eyes on her, glanced up once—just long enough to catch them ducking away like guilty teenagers.

Meanwhile, at a nearby cubicle, Aiah tried to keep working but kept looking up too. Stacey and Maloi, clearly enjoying themselves, finally scurried back to her desk, their hands already flapping in giddy excitement.

“Pssst,” Stacey whispered across the divider as soon as they were seated. “Kita mo ba yung smile? Super cute!”

Maloi gave a thumbs-up and leaned close to Aiah. “Bagay kayo, Aiah,” she teased under her breath.

Aiah fought a grin, feeling her face grow warm despite herself. “Oh my God,” she muttered, returning her eyes to her computer screen—though she honestly thinks Maloi is a hundred percent correct.

They are bagay.

Once HR was finished with the paperwork and handed Mikha her ID, a bright knock on the doorframe broke the quiet.

“Hey, you must be Mikha,” Jhoanna greeted with a warm smile. Dressed in smart casual—a tailored blazer over a simple blouse—she looked every bit in charge without seeming uptight. “I’m Jhoanna. Ready for the grand tour?”

Mikha nodded, quickly tucking her pen into her tote as she followed Jhoanna into the hall.

“Don’t worry,” Jhoanna added in a friendly tone, hands sliding into her pockets as they walked. “Chill lang naman kami sa office. Medyo magulo at first, but we get things done—eventually.”

As they passed the fashion and lifestyle team’s area, Stacey and Maloi immediately perked up, making zero effort to hide their interest. Stacey wiggled her brows at Mikha while Maloi mouthed a very obvious “ANG CUTE NIYA!”

Jhoanna glanced over, unimpressed in a teasing sort of way. “And those two? That’s Stacey and Maloi. Writers. Pero professional fangirls din,” she joked, earning a mock gasp of offense from them.

Mikha fought a small smile as they continued, feeling the office come alive around her—energetic but welcoming.

A few steps later, they reached Aiah’s desk. Aiah looked up just in time to see them approaching, and Mikha felt a little jolt when their eyes met.

Jhoanna paused with an easy grin. “And this is Aiah—our fashion editor,” she said, leaning casually against the cubicle divider. “She’s been here a while, so if you need help figuring out who to bother for what, she’s your girl.”

Aiah gave Mikha a friendly smile—warm and bright as sunshine. “Hi! Welcome,” she said, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“Hi po,” Mikha replied, her voice a touch shy but sincere.

Jhoanna chuckled, already moving again. “Alright, come on. Let’s show you your desk before these guys distract you too much,” she said with a wink.

As Mikha followed Jhoanna down the hall, Aiah couldn’t help leaning back in her chair just a little too far, trying to catch one last glimpse of her.

Stacey noticed first, smirking over her monitor. “Ingat,” she whispered loud enough for Maloi to hear. “Mababali leeg mo niyan, sige.”

Aiah hastily straightened up and grabbed the nearest pen like she’d been working the whole time. “Okay lang, cute siya,” she muttered—a little too fast.

“Mm-hmm,” Maloi chimed in, eyes twinkling. “Sabi ko nga diba, bagay kayo.”

Aiah groaned, rubbing her face to hide the ridiculous grin she could feel spreading. “Stop. I have a no-dating-coworkers rule, remember?”

“Uh-huh,” Stacey teased, propping her chin on her hands. “And that rule survived how long last time? Three seconds?”

“Hey, it’s serious,” Aiah insisted, pointing a stern finger at them. Except her tone was too light and her cheeks too pink for anyone to believe her.

She stole one last look toward the hall where Mikha had disappeared—and felt that familiar little flutter in her chest all over again.

“Okay,” she thought, suppressing a smile as she turned back to her screen. “Rule number one: no crushing on the new girl.”

Spoiler: she already failed.

—

Jhoanna led Mikha toward the sports corner of the office, hands casually tucked into her pockets as she gestured to different teams they passed.

“That,” she said with a light grin, “is Colet and Sheena. Resident erotic columnists natin.”

Mikha glanced over at two women leaning across their cubicles, mid-conversation. Colet was laughing at something Sheena had just said—probably one of their usual wildly candid and inappropriate stories.

“Hi!” Sheena called with a wink when she noticed Mikha looking. “Welcome to the madhouse!”

“Don’t worry,” Colet added warmly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, “you’ll fit right in. And if you ever need very honest advice about anything,” she teased, dragging the last part out suggestively, “our inbox is always open.”

Mikha felt her cheeks warm as she nodded, laughing softly. “Thanks. Good to know,” she replied, and Jhoanna chuckled too, moving them along before Colet and Sheena could get carried away.

“Those two,” Jhoanna muttered playfully, “specialize in making sure our readers feel safe and satisfied—emotionally and otherwise.”

A few steps later, they finally reached a tidy cubicle adorned with pinned-up sports photos and tournament schedules. Gwen was already at her desk, flipping through her notes, her short hair tucked behind one ear.

“Hey, you must be Mikha,” Gwen greeted her with a friendly, easy smile. “Glad you’re here. Medyo matagal na kaming short-handed—we could use someone who knows their stuff.”

Jhoanna clapped a gentle hand on Mikha’s shoulder. “This is your corner of the world. Gwen will show you the ropes.”

Mikha set her tote on the chair and took a breath—feeling for the first time that morning like she belonged.

Gwen pulled up a chair next to Mikha’s new desk and began showing her the schedules. “So, this one’s a junior soccer tournament,” she explained, sliding a color-coded list across the table, “and ito yung profile ng bagong captain of the women’s basketball team. Oh—and we might pitch an interview with the track star from UP if you’re interested.”

Mikha nodded along, jotting down notes, slowly feeling the rhythm of the sports team.

And then there was a suspicious shuffle behind them.

Stacey breezed by with an empty mug and an exaggerated yawn. “Time for more coffee,” she announced to no one in particular.

Two minutes later, Maloi “casually” appeared at the water dispenser, humming loudly as she filled a glass that took way too long to fill.

And then there was Aiah—hands in her pockets, gaze fixed suspiciously on the ceiling like she wasn’t looking for anything in particular as she passed. Except she miscalculated the spacing and accidentally stubbed her toe on the edge of Gwen’s chair.

“Aray!” she squeaked before she could stop herself.

Mikha and Gwen both looked up at her in surprise.

“You okay?” Gwen asked, brow raised.

“Y-Yeah,” Aiah replied quickly, face pink as she gave a small laugh. “Okay lang! Just…forgot chairs exist,” she mumbled, and limped off toward the pantry before anyone could say anything more.

Stacey and Maloi were already snickering by the water cooler, whispering loudly enough that even Mikha could catch bits of it.

“Smooth,” Stacey hissed.

“Very graceful,” Maloi giggled.

The office pantry was tiny—just a cramped corner with a counter, a water dispenser, and an old coffee machine that took forever to brew—which was exactly the excuse Stacey, Maloi, and Aiah were looking for.

Aiah was leaning against the counter, hands stuffed in her pockets, cheeks still warm as she stared at the door like Mikha might walk by at any second.

“Ang cute niya sa salamin niya,” she whispered to the two of them with a goofy grin, biting back a giggle.

Stacey immediately covered her mouth, eyes bright with mischief. “I know, right? That shy, nerdy look? Tapos her glasses? Ugh. Sobrang cute!”

Maloi leaned in too, pretending to check the water level in the kettle. “Seryoso. Bagay sa kanya,” she agreed, then nudged Aiah playfully. “Ayaw mo ba talaga sa kanya? Akin nalang.”

“Ingay mo!” Aiah hissed, swatting at her. “And also…dibs!”

She was grinning ear to ear—and they were all leaning into one another, whispering and giggling like teenagers, making a big show of stirring their mugs just to buy themselves more time.

“Nag dibs pa talaga,” Stacey teased as she “accidentally” took forever tearing a sugar packet open. “Hindi naman halatang ang tagal nating nagkakape, diba?”

Maloi laughed softly. “Okay lang yan. Magre-refill pa nga ako,” she said, topping off an already-full glass.

Aiah peeked toward the pantry door one more time—heart skipping a beat—and whispered, “Tama na nga, baka mahuli pa tayo.”

But none of them moved right away, all too caught up in the thrill of sharing this ridiculous little secret crush together.

When they finally decided they’d stalled long enough, the three of them stepped out of the pantry—only to find Mikha and Gwen standing just a few feet away.

Aiah froze for a heartbeat, then offered a quick, too-bright smile. “Hi!” she blurted at the exact same time Stacey and Maloi chimed in with their own nervous “Hi!”

Mikha glanced up, blinking in surprise. Gwen gave them a polite nod.

And before anyone could say another word, the three girls exchanged a panicked look and scampered off down the hallway together, stifling giggles as they went.

Mikha just stared after them, brow slightly furrowed. “...What was that about?” she asked Gwen.

Gwen chuckled, shaking her head as she pulled up a chair. “Ewan. Ganyan talaga sila,” she assured her.

—

By the time the trio reached their desks, they were still breathless with laughter.

Maloi had barely sat down when Colet leaned over her cubicle wall. “Hi, Loi!” she called out, one brow arched playfully. “Nabasa mo na ba ’yung latest column ko?”

Maloi winked. “Hindi,” she shot back, leaning on her elbows.

That was when Stacey poked Maloi in the side. “What’s up with you two?” she whispered, grinning like she already knew the answer.

Maloi could only shrug, cheeks pink. “Wala,” she replied too quickly—and they all dissolved into quiet giggles again.

And a few cubicles away, Mikha was still looking mildly confused as Gwen smiled to herself and went back to discussing the schedule.

These girls are weird.

—

By noon, Gwen was packing up her things when she glanced at Mikha. “Hey,” she asked casually, “my girlfriend and I were gonna try that new café across the street. Sama ka?”

Mikha looked up from her notes and gave a polite smile. “Ah, no thanks. Nagbaon ako,” she replied, patting her tote.

Gwen nodded easily. “Okay, next time,” she said before heading out with Sheena.

Meanwhile, a few desks away, a very different conversation was unfolding.

Stacey was leaning halfway across the divider, eyes wide. “You have to ask Mikha out for lunch,” she told Aiah.

“Bakit ako?” Aiah hissed back, glancing nervously toward Mikha’s direction.

Maloi chimed in immediately, pointing at her like she’d been waiting for this all morning. “Kasi ikaw yung may gusto?!”

Aiah groaned and covered her face. “That’s exactly why I shouldn’t do it,” she muttered. “That’s like… a disaster waiting to happen!”

“Exactly,” Stacey agreed, utterly unhelpful.

Maloi was already grinning. “Come on. Imagine mo—one-on-one lunch, tanungin mo siya anong favorite utensil niya,” she whispered, waggling her brows.

Aiah peeked over the cubicle wall at Mikha—who was calmly unpacking her lunch bag—then immediately ducked back down. “She already brought food,” Aiah argued in a low whisper. “Baka ma-bother lang!”

“Then offer to eat here,” Maloi shot back.

Stacey nodded quickly. “‘Hey, can we join you?’ Ganyan. Super casual!”

“Or,” Maloi added dramatically, “you could just trip and drop your coffee next to her desk. Instant icebreaker.”

Aiah groaned. “Oh my god,” she whispered. “You two are the worst help.”

“You mean the best,” Stacey corrected, grinning.

The two of them kept tossing increasingly ridiculous ideas back and forth—all while making very obvious “go on!” hand gestures—and Aiah sat there feeling her heart race a little faster. 

Yup. Screw the rule.

Mikha was too cute. 

But not today. Not yet. 

“Let’s go na nga,” Aiah finally huffed, pushing her chair back.

Maloi and Stacey pouted in unison like they’d practiced it.

“Boo,” Maloi whined. “You’re disappointing us, Ai.”

“Ang hina naman ng manok namin,” Stacey added dramatically, shaking her head as they started gathering their things.

Aiah just groaned, swatting at them as they laughed and followed her toward the door.

That was when Jhoanna poked her head out of her office, catching them mid-escape. “Stace,” she called in that breezy-but-in-charge tone of hers. “Kain ka na. Kain na kayo.”

Stacey gave a quick nod. “Sige, boss,” she replied brightly.

“Yikes,” Aiah teased as they shuffled into the hall. “Favorite ni bossing ’yan?”

Stacey made a face. “Yuck,” she shot back—but even as she said it, she was pulling her phone from her pocket.

Maloi peered over her shoulder and smirked as Stacey quickly typed out a message before they hit the elevators.

“Eat ka na rin hehe,” the screen read.

Maloi nudged her playfully. “Sabi mo yuck,” she whispered.

Stacey just grinned and tucked her phone away. “Baka kasi magutom,” she replied airily—earning an eye-roll and a chuckle from both Maloi and Aiah as they finally disappeared around the corner.

—

They had barely sat down at the café—a cozy spot with hanging plants and mismatched chairs—when the topic of conversation immediately returned to the only thing they’d been thinking about all day: Mikha.

Aiah had just unwrapped her sandwich when Stacey, eyes gleaming with mischief, dropped the first question.

“So… what do you think your first date would be like?”

Aiah looked up like a deer caught in headlights. “Can I eat muna?”

“No,” Maloi said, dead serious. “This is more important.”

Aiah sighed dramatically, but a smile tugged at her lips anyway. “Fine. First date? Siguro... somewhere tahimik. Not too crowded. Para we can talk, like, really talk.”

“Oh my god, she wants to get to know her,” Stacey squealed, already clutching her iced latte like it was a wedding bouquet.

Maloi clapped. “Bookstore café. May plant wall. Tapos Mikha wears a hoodie and glasses. You’re dying the whole time but pretending to be chill.”

Aiah laughed. “I’ll be like, ‘so... ano bang sports mo ngayon?’ Tapos she’ll adjust her glasses and say something smart and sporty and I’ll just… die.”

Stacey pretended to faint onto the table. “A love story sponsored by decathlon.”

They burst into laughter, already spiraling.

“Okay, okay,” Maloi said, wiping tears from her eyes. “Next. First kiss. Go.”

Aiah bit her straw. “Ugh. Somewhere random. Maybe after an event. Biglaan. Like we’re walking, and I say something dumb like, ‘ang galing mo dun ah,’ then she just… kisses me.”

Stacey gasped. “Kinikilig ako, tangina. Did that just come from your imagination?”

“Hindi,” Aiah said, dramatically placing a hand over her chest. “From my heart.”

They all screamed into their drinks.

Maloi slapped the table. “Tapos after nun, she pulls back and says, ‘tagal ko nang gusto gawin yun.’”

“STOP,” Aiah cried, half-laughing, half-melting into her seat.

Stacey fanned herself. “I’m sweating. Okay, okay—big question: sino magpo-propose? ”

Maloi grinned like she already knew the answer. “Feeling ko ikaw.”

Aiah nodded solemnly. “Oo. Ako nga. I’ll plan this whole romantic thing—rooftop, fairy lights, handwritten letter, music, everything.”

“But?” Stacey asked, smirking.

“But I’ll panic,” Aiah admitted. “Forget the whole speech. I’ll cry halfway and just go, ‘pakasalan mo na lang ako please.’”

They erupted again. “ANG WEAK NG DELIVERY!” Stacey cried through laughter.

“ANG LAKAS NG INTENT!” Maloi countered, wiping her eyes.

“Okay, okay,” Stacey said, catching her breath. “Wedding plans. Let’s go.”

“Beach wedding,” Maloi said instantly. “Golden hour. Intimate. You walk down the aisle barefoot in a white jumpsuit. Mikha’s crying.”

“And I’m crying,” Aiah added.

“And we’re crying,” Stacey said, gesturing to herself and Maloi. “Because love is alive and you’re the proof.”

They leaned into each other, hysterical, until a couple from the next table glanced over. Not that they cared.

“And the kids,” Maloi said, regaining composure. “Name ideas. Go.”

Aiah buried her face in her hands again. “Why are we naming kids na agad? Hindi pa nga kami friends!”

“Manifestation,” Stacey said. “So? Girl name?”

Aiah peeked up, cheeks sore from grinning. “Hmm… something cool. Like Riley.”

“Oooh,” Maloi nodded. “Sporty! Tapos yung boy… maybe Eli? Or something nerdy and soft like Milo.”

Stacey beamed. “Eli and Riley. Tapos may dog named Mikmik.”

Aiah groaned. “You two are out of your minds.”

“You’re welcome,” Maloi said proudly.

—

The three of them strolled back to the office, plastic cups in hand, still riding the high of caffeine and collective delusions. The sun was a little too bright, their laughter a little too loud for the sidewalk—but they didn’t care.

“So kung may first date na, may first kiss na, may beach wedding na,” Maloi said, squinting up at the sky like she was planning the seasons, “kailan ang first away niyo?”

Aiah groaned. “Wala nga! Hindi pa nga kami nagkakausap ng maayos!”

“Exactly,” Stacey said, grinning. “That’s why this is the perfect time to plan your fake first fight.”

Aiah rolled her eyes. “Fine. What are we fighting about?”

Maloi didn’t miss a beat. “You forgot your anniversary.”

Stacey gasped. “Oooh. Ganda nun.”

Aiah made a face. “How would I forget our anniversary? Ako nga yung nag-propose!”

“Precisely,” Stacey said, waving her hand. “That’s what makes it extra painful. Mikha thinks she’s the forgetful one, pero turns out, ikaw pala. Plot twist.”

Maloi grinned. “Tapos Mikha just gets really quiet for a week. Doesn’t even pack you baon.”

“Oof,” Aiah said, laughing. “Cruel.”

“And she doesn’t say anything. Just leaves your favorite hoodie on your chair one day. Silent treatment pero may longing.”

Stacey was already acting it out. “You walk into the apartment. Dim lights. She’s on the couch, watching some old Olympic highlights, all cold and distant.”

Aiah covered her face. “You two need help.”

Stacey ignored her. “You try to hug her, she doesn’t move. Tapos you whisper, ‘sorry…’ and she says, ‘ilang taon mo na akong nakakasama, pero di mo maalala?’”

“AHHHH!” Maloi screamed, nearly dropping her drink. “I’m getting goosebumps!”

Aiah laughed so hard she had to pause and lean on a parked car. “This is the most emotionally damaging fake scenario I’ve ever heard.”

Maloi was fanning herself. “I want them to be happy but also I want drama.”

“And since we’re being honest,” Stacey said, dead serious now, “I made a list of Mikha’s potential red flags.”

Aiah blinked. “Wait—what?”

“She wears glasses, right?” Stacey began, pulling out her phone. “That means she probably doesn’t reply fast. Kasi may tendency to remove glasses, lie down, and forget her phone exists.”

“That’s not a red flag,” Aiah said, incredulous.

Stacey kept going. “She looks like the type to eat yogurt and forget to text you good morning.”

Maloi nodded solemnly. “Or reply with ‘ok’ even when your message is three paragraphs long.”

“She probably would choose a sports channel over romcoms.”

“She’s hot,” Maloi agreed, “but emotionally unavailable. Maybe.”

Aiah was already wheezing. “Why are you people like this?”

“Because we love you,” Stacey said with a straight face. “And we’re emotionally invested in your fictional relationship.”

They finally reached the elevator, still laughing, cheeks aching, stomachs full of caffeine and delusion. As they stepped inside, Aiah leaned her head on the wall and muttered, “I swear, pag narinig ni Mikha kahit isang sentence sa mga sinabi niyo, I’m resigning on the spot.”

Maloi grinned. “Too late. We’re already naming your seventh child.”

—

A stretch of quiet finally settled over their desks—keyboards clicking, coffee mugs cooling, everyone finally looking like they were earning their paycheck for the day.

That lasted all of thirty minutes.

Stacey pushed her chair back with a sigh. “CR muna tayo,” she whispered across the divider.

Maloi looked up from her monitor and nodded instantly.

Aiah barely glanced up. “Mamaya na ’ko,” she murmured, eyes glued to her screen. “Still editing.”

Stacey shot her a knowing look. “Fine, bahala ka,” she replied breezily as they slipped out of their chairs.

By some cosmic luck, as soon as they pushed into the bathroom, they spotted Mikha at the sink, sleeves pushed up, water running as she rinsed her hands.

Stacey and Maloi exchanged a quick conspiratorial glance before sliding into their roles like pros.

“Oh! Hi, Mikha!” Stacey greeted a little too brightly as they breezed in.

Mikha glanced up in the mirror and smiled politely. “Hi,” she replied, reaching for a paper towel.

Maloi was already leaning against the counter like they weren’t up to anything at all. “So,” she began casually, “you play any sport ba?”

Mikha paused. “Uh… volleyball,” she answered, sounding a bit curious as she dried her hands.

“Oooh,” Stacey chimed in, turning on the tap like she actually needed to wash her hands too. “Varsity or hobby lang?”

“Varsity nung college,” Mikha replied with a small shrug.

“Uy, galing,” Maloi nodded approvingly. “Saan ka nga pala nakatira? Malayo ba dito?”

Mikha tossed the used paper towel into the bin, “Makati lang.”

“Ahhh,” Stacey nodded like she was filing that information away forever. Then—going for the kill—she flashed a big smile. “Hey, we usually do drinks after work minsan. Free ka tonight?”

Mikha looked a bit caught off guard, rubbing the back of her neck. “Ah, sayang. Busy ako tonight,” she said sheepishly.

Maloi exchanged a glance with Stacey before shrugging breezily. “Ay, okay lang! Next time,” she replied quickly.

“Definitely,” Stacey added with a wink.

“See you back outside,” Mikha smiled, pushing the door open with her shoulder and leaving them alone in the empty bathroom.

As soon as it swung shut, Maloi groaned and pressed her hands to her face. “We tried,” she said dramatically.

Stacey clucked her tongue. “Manok natin is too busy tonight,” she teased as they fixed their hair in the mirror.

And somewhere just a few desks away, Aiah was blissfully unaware of her friends’ failed reconnaissance—busy editing the last few lines of her article, oblivious that Stacey and Maloi were already plotting Plan B.

—

By the time the clock was inching toward the end of their shift, everyone was already half-zipped into their bags, screens dimming one by one.

That was when Colet sauntered over to their cluster of desks, hands tucked into the pockets of her blazer.

“Loi,” she greeted casually, leaning against the divider. “Dinner?”

Maloi glanced up, lips already quirked into a grin. “May dinner out kami ng girls eh,” she replied, jerking a thumb toward Stacey and Aiah.

“Ah,” Colet nodded easily. “Next time, then.”

And just like that, she was off, heels clicking as she disappeared around the corner.

Stacey and Aiah exchanged glances—eyebrows raised.

“Is she…” Aiah began slowly, closing her laptop, “into you or something?”

Maloi tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and gave a careless shrug, a wicked little smile tugging at her lips.

“Everyone’s into me,” she said airily, like it was simply a fact of life.

Stacey burst out laughing. “Ay, ang kapal!”

“Hoy,” Maloi shot back, grinning. “Don’t be jealous.”

Aiah just shook her head, chuckling as she slung her bag over one shoulder.

“Careful,” Stacey teased as they headed for the elevators. “That ego won’t fit sa pinto mamaya.”

Maloi gave them a wink as she pushed the button. “Pwede kayong maki-hawak,” she offered with mock grandeur—and all three of them broke into laughter again, the day’s teasing carrying them out into the hallway like a bright, buzzing secret only they shared.

—

Mikha’s first week was finally over. Finally.

It was Friday—the golden hour of office life. And somehow, she’d survived.

She had submitted two sports articles—one on an up-and-coming high school volleyball star and another on the lack of funding for women’s basketball teams. When she handed them in, Jhoanna had simply skimmed the top paragraphs, nodded once, and muttered: “Galing mo talaga.”

No edits. No comments. Just that.

It felt surreal. A bit intimidating. But also? Really, really good.

Gwen, ever cool and reserved, had warmed up just a little by Thursday. They shared lunch on Wednesday and discovered a mutual love for ‘90s women’s tennis—but Gwen mostly only wanted to talk about sports and Sheena, in that order.

And sometimes, when things were quiet, Colet would casually drift over to their corner of the office, arms folded, a smirk already on her lips. Mikha quickly learned this usually meant two things:

1. Colet was bored.
2. She had a new idea that might get her fired.

That Friday afternoon, with the clock inching past four, Gwen and Mikha were quietly organizing next week’s athlete interview list when Sheena showed up, iced tea in hand, Colet trailing behind her like a storm cloud of bad decisions.

“Okay,” Sheena said, dropping into the spare chair between them, “final list for Jhoanna. We need to narrow it down to three titles. Help us.”

Gwen raised a brow. “Do I want to know?”

“No,” Mikha replied before Sheena could, already bracing herself.

Colet pulled a folded sheet from her back pocket like it was a sacred scroll. “Okay,” she began, clearing her throat dramatically. “Option one: ‘Is It You or Is It Lazy Sex? How to Tell if Your Partner Deserves a Second Round.'”

Gwen blinked. “Solid opener.”

“Option two,” Sheena chimed in, grinning, “'Masturbation Myths Busted: You’re Not Gonna Go Blind, Babe.’”

Mikha nearly choked on her water. “I—wait, that’s actually educational.”

“Thank you,” Sheena beamed. “We’re here to serve.”

“Option three,” Colet continued, flipping the paper. “'Kinks You Didn’t Know You Had Until Someone Whispered It in Your Ear at 1 AM’”

Gwen tilted her head thoughtfully. “Catchy. Mahaba, pero catchy.”

“I vote that one,” Sheena said. “It’s chaotic. It’s real.”

“We’re also considering,” Colet added, “'When the Lights Are Off But You’re Still Cringing: Performance Anxiety and How to Be Chill.’”

Mikha was blinking rapidly. “Do your readers actually ask for this stuff?”

“All the time,” Sheena said, proud. “They love this column.”

“You’d be surprised,” Colet added, grinning. “Sometimes women just need to hear, ‘Hey, that weird thing you like? Totally fine. Also, here’s how to ask for it without panicking.’”

Gwen nodded. “Honestly? Makes sense.”

“I didn’t expect to learn this much about you guys in a week,” Mikha muttered, half-laughing.

Sheena gave her a playful wink. “Don’t worry. By next week, you’ll be naming our titles too.”

Mikha snorted. “Not unless you start writing about volleyball kinks.”

Colet’s eyes lit up. “Say less.”

“Please,” Gwen said quickly, holding up her hand. “Say way, way less.”

They all cracked up, laughter filling the corner of the office—the kind of easy, end-of-week joy that only came after surviving five long days together.

—

When Colet leaned casually against Mikha’s desk toward the end of the shift and gave her best “friendly coworker” smile, Mikha looked up from her screen, slightly puzzled.

“Hey,” Colet began, twirling a pen between her fingers. “We’re grabbing drinks after work. Sama ka?”

Mikha hesitated politely. “Ah, I don’t really drink eh. Sorry,” she replied with a sheepish smile.

“Aw,” Colet said with an exaggerated sigh, pushing off the desk. “Next time, ha?”

“Next time,” Mikha promised, going back to her notes.

A few minutes later, Colet sauntered back toward Maloi’s desk. Stacey and Aiah were nowhere in sight—they’d disappeared into the bathroom a good fifteen minutes ago under the noble pretext of “freshening up,” which really meant they were inside laughing, retouching makeup, and making sure they’d look extra gorgeous for their weekly shopping date.

Maloi spun lazily in her chair as Colet plopped herself on the edge of her desk.

“Ano, pumayag?” Maloi asked, arms crossed.

“She doesn’t drink daw,” Colet replied, leaning in like she was sharing some dark secret.

Maloi groaned in defeat. “Ah, okay. No Mikha, no dinner date with me,” she declared dramatically.

Colet chuckled, then straightened up. “Fine, I’ll try harder,” she promised—though before they could strategize further, the bathroom door swung open.

Out came Stacey and Aiah—hands full of lip balms and powder compacts—giggling like they hadn’t just disappeared for fifteen minutes.

And just like that, Colet shot up. “BRB,” she muttered, already sprinting toward her next ridiculous plan.

Stacey’s brow arched. “Tina-try niyo siguro yung kinks sa article niya, no?” she teased loudly, grinning like a smug cat.

Maloi burst into laughter as Aiah doubled over, hands pressed to her mouth to stifle her own fit of giggles.

“Hoy, grabe,” Aiah managed between laughs. “Walang patawad!”

And across the office, Mikha glanced up briefly at the sound of their laughter, wondering—not for the first time—what on earth these girls were always up to.

—

Monday hit like a brick.

Gwen was off doing an interview at some sports clinic across town, leaving Mikha to juggle the last three assignments on her own. It wasn’t too bad—Mikha liked keeping busy—but the deadline was close enough to make her hyper focused.

She’d been in the zone for nearly two hours when, out of nowhere, her computer froze.

First one error popped up.

Then two.

Then twenty three.

And then the screen went blank.

“Tangina, what?!” Mikha hissed under her breath, clicking frantically at her mouse.

Nothing.

With a long sigh, she pushed back her chair and glanced around the office for help. Colet was nowhere to be seen. Stacey and Maloi were deep in some animated debate by the water cooler.

And then she saw Aiah—sitting at her desk across the aisle.

Aiah was hunched over her phone, clearly playing some game—probably sudoku, she saw her playing last time—brow furrowed in concentration.

But the second she noticed Mikha looking in her direction, Aiah hastily locked her phone, pulled up a blank document on her screen, and began “typing,” hands moving across the keyboard as if she’d been writing a very important article all along.

Mikha paused, lips twitching. On her monitor, all Mikha could see was a string of nonsense:

aksksjdiasjhdjsahsuaiqbmikhacutecanidateyouforeverplease

ahausiaiahqpaisimikhalimhuhuhuumikhalimmmmmhpsjsiwba

Aiah was so obviously pretending that Mikha had to bite back a smile as she walked up.

“Hey,” Mikha began softly.

“Hey!” Aiah replied a bit too brightly, straightening up as if she hadn’t been caught red-handed. “Need anything?”

Mikha held up her hands in a sort of sheepish shrug. “My computer crashed. Pwede pa-help?”

Aiah’s eyes lit up—part relief, part nerves. “Oh! Yeah, sure,” she said, already hopping up from her chair. “Let’s take a look.”

Before they crossed the short distance back to Mikha’s desk, Aiah quickly minimized her screen—her fake typing still there—and hoped Mikha hadn’t noticed.

Aiah followed Mikha back to her desk, heart thudding for a hundred different reasons—mostly because this was the first time they were alone together like this. No Gwen. No Maloi and Stacey.

Just her and Mikha.

And a computer that had decided to ruin its own day.

“Okay,” Aiah murmured, sliding into Mikha’s chair like she belonged there. “Let me just take a look…”

She had absolutely no idea what she was doing. None. Zip. But she couldn’t very well admit that—not when this was finally her chance to look cool, helpful, and competent.

Aiah bent over Mikha’s desk slowly as she fussed with the mouse, trying to look busy and, well, impressive. The snug fit of her skirt was an afterthought when she got dressed this morning—but as she felt Mikha’s gaze flicker in her periphery, her lips curved into a smug little smile.

Mikha noticed all right.

Out of instinct, Mikha glanced away quickly, ears heating. Then—after a second—she glanced back. And then glanced away again, more flustered this time, hands tightening on the back of her chair.

Aiah could feel it—the tension in the air like a held breath—and it was making her hands clumsy.

She clicked the mouse once.

Then twice.

Left click. Right click.

And when that didn’t work, she started clicking both at the same time, as if sheer willpower could fix whatever was wrong.

Then she started typing. Ctrl + shift whatever. Ctrl + shift everything.

Mikha was standing behind her stiff as a board. “Um,” she began, voice careful.

Aiah glanced back up at her with a big, what-do-I-do-now grin—and then, feeling utterly out of options, smacked the top of Mikha’s monitor.

The screen immediately flashed back to life.

For one perfect second, they just stared at the now-functional desktop in mutual disbelief.

Then Mikha laughed—a short, delighted sound—and Aiah let out a breath she didn’t even realize she was holding.

“Woah,” Mikha chuckled, rubbing the back of her neck. “It worked!”

Aiah straightened up, hands on her hips like this was all part of her plan. “Of course it did,” she replied smoothly, trying to keep the grin off her face. “Sometimes you just have to… get physical.”

Mikha glanced at her with a glimmer in her eyes—amused, charmed, maybe just a tiny bit flustered—and Aiah felt her heart do a ridiculous somersault.

And for a moment, neither of them could look away.

Aiah was just about to say something.

Something brave. Something flirty. Something like “Hey, do you wanna have lunch?” 

Or maybe even “I’m free tonight if you want to spend the rest of our lives together.”

Her lips parted. Her courage queued up.

And then—

The door burst open.

“GUUUURLS!” Gwen’s voice rang through the room, followed by the sharp thud of her tote bag hitting her desk.

Aiah flinched. Mikha blinked, startled.

Gwen strode in, slightly sweaty, hair a bit windswept from the heat outside, and her notebook already open in one hand. “Sorry I’m late. Oh my god. You will not believe this athlete’s diet plan. Like, walang rice?! Sino ba ’tong mga nagti-training ng ganito?!”

Aiah blinked, still hovering in front of Mikha’s desk like someone who’d just been caught mid-love confession by a thunderstorm.

Mikha gently slid back into her chair, a little flustered, biting back a grin.

“Anyway,” Gwen continued, dropping into her chair like she hadn’t just walked in on a moment, “I got quotes, I got stats, I got a story. Also, can I eat this banana on your desk, Mikha? I haven’t had breakfast.”

Mikha laughed under her breath, shaking her head. “Go ahead.”

Aiah took a subtle step backward, brain short-circuiting, mouth now very much closed.

“Okay. I’m just gonna—” she muttered, motioning vaguely toward nowhere, before retreating back to her own desk like she hadn’t just tried to profess her love between a broken monitor and a very confusing banana-related interruption.

Across the room, Stacey and Maloi were watching through narrowed eyes like the gossip mongering  girlies they were.

Stacey elbowed Maloi. “Pustahan, she was this close to asking Mikha to marry her.”

Maloi snorted. “She probably would’ve blacked out and proposed with a paperclip.”

Back at her desk, Aiah sat down, stared at her blank screen, and muttered under her breath:

“Next time. Definitely next time.”

—

By late afternoon, the three of them had gathered at Stacey’s desk like they were planning a heist—heads close together, voices hushed, eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Okay,” Stacey began, spinning her chair toward them like she was hosting a game show. “Operation Seduce Mikha: Step One. What do we do?”

Maloi propped her chin on her hands. “Obviously, we need to set them up alone. Like, force them into a situation. Maybe you accidentally lock yourselves in the supply closet together?”

Aiah groaned. “Supply closet? Anong movie ‘to? I want this to be cute, not traumatizing!”

Stacey was already scribbling imaginary notes on her palm. “Okay, okay, more wholesome. Maybe you drop your pen near her chair and then do the whole slow lean-down thing. Very subtle. Very—what’s that word—sensual?”

Maloi nodded eagerly. “And hold eye contact for, like, three seconds too long. Let her wonder if you’re looking at her lips.”

“Guys,” Aiah whined, hands covering her face. “I’m gonna choke if I do that. Sobrang obvious!”

Stacey waved her off like a fairy godmother. “That’s the point, baks. You want her to know you’re into her. Subtlety is for people who are not trying to make her fall in love.”

Maloi smirked. “And then after that, you accidentally brush hands when you pass papers. Spark. Electric tension. Boom—she’s yours forever.”

Aiah bit back a grin despite herself. “And what if my hands are cold? What if I drop the papers and look like an idiot?”

“Exactly,” Stacey and Maloi chorused.

Before they could spiral further into their ridiculous scheming, they heard soft footsteps.

Mikha was suddenly passing by on her way to the bathroom.

Time froze.

All three of them snapped their heads up in perfect, synchronized panic—like they’d practiced this for years—and sang out in unison, sugary sweet and way too loud:

“Hiiiiiiiiiiii!”

Mikha paused, eyes going a bit wide. “Hi?” she replied, clearly sensing something was up.

And then she disappeared around the corner.

The moment they heard the bathroom door close, Stacey, Maloi, and Aiah melted back into their chairs.

Stacey grabbed Maloi’s arm. “Anyway—Step Two,” she whispered fiercely, as if they hadn’t just scared Mikha. “You gotta make sure you always ‘happen’ to be where she is.”

Maloi nodded seriously. “The pantry. The copier. The hallway. Get your timing right and look busy—but approachable.”

Aiah was already nodding along now, eyes determined. “Okay. Okay. Timing. Approachability. What else?”

Stacey exchanged a knowing glance with Maloi.

“Flirt,” they said together.

Aiah groaned again, but this time she was laughing. “God help me.”

And they kept plotting—just as Mikha, innocent and unsuspecting, emerged from the bathroom on the other end of the hall, completely unaware that three very dedicated, very ridiculous wingwomen had made it their mission to give her a once in a lifetime love affair.

As the three of them hunched together like they were planning a bank heist, Colet breezed past their cluster of chairs.

“Pssst, Colet!” Stacey hissed, loud enough for the entire floor to hear. “Lika nga!”

Colet paused, one brow lifting as she shifted her papers. “Ano?”

Stacey waved her closer like she had the juiciest secret in the world. “Diba close kayo ni Mikha?”

Colet gave a small shrug. “Not really. Nag-uusap kami, oo. Pero not BFF level.”

That was all Aiah needed.

“Pero,” she jumped in, leaning over her desk like she was on a mission, “anong mga hilig niya? What’s she into?”

“Um,” Colet thought for a second, tapping a pen against her chin. “Sports?”

Aiah, Stacey, and Maloi all groaned at the same time.

“SYEMPRE SPORTS!” Stacey exclaimed, hands in the air.

“WHAT ELSE?!” Aiah demanded, sounding both desperate and amused.

Maloi gave Colet a pleading look. “Anything not sports. Please!”

Colet laughed at their melodrama. “Well… she drinks a lot of iced coffee. Super into photography, too—nagdadala pa nga ’yan ng maliit na camera minsan. Hmm, mahilig siya sa mga puzzle games. Sa phone niya lagi may Sudoku or something.”

Stacey snapped her fingers. “That’s something! Aiah, i-add mo ’yan sa listahan mo!”

Aiah nodded so seriously it was like she was transcribing the secret formula to immortality. “Sports. Iced coffee. Photography. Puzzles. Okay, okay… that’s doable.”

Maloi grinned wickedly. “O baka gusto mo bilhan siya ng puzzle game na may picture niyo together.”

Aiah let out a half-groan, half-laugh. “Maloi, ’wag mo nga akong i-pressure!”

“Pero,” Stacey teased, leaning closer with a wink, “aminin mo—gagawin mo rin ’yan.”

And Aiah just covered her face with her hands, groaning and laughing at the same time, completely, utterly whipped.

Then Stacey looked up again, clearly not satisfied with Colet’s intel. “Colet,” she drawled, wiggling her brows, “bigay ka pa nga ng other date ideas na related sa hilig ni Mikha.”

Colet paused, lips quirking into a wicked little grin.

“Hmm,” she pretended to think hard, shifting her weight on one hip. “One date muna with Maloi.”

That earned a chorus of gasps and squeals.

Maloi clutched her chest like she’d been shot. “Hoy!” she protested, but her ears were turning pink.

Aiah burst into laughter. “Aba, Colet—sumasapaw!”

Stacey smirked. “Ayieee, Maloi, you heard her!”

Maloi groaned and covered her face with both hands, though she was clearly enjoying the attention. “Grabe kayong lahat!”

Colet winked as she pivoted to leave. “Dinner’s still up for grabs, Loi,” she called over her shoulder, striding away before anyone could fire back.

As soon as Colet disappeared around the corner, Stacey spun back toward Aiah and Maloi, hands dramatically flat on the desk.

“You have to ask her out TONIGHT,” she declared, eyes gleaming like a mastermind.

Aiah bit her lip. “Tonight?! Grabe naman, ang bilis!”

Maloi nodded eagerly. “Oo nga. Strike habang mainit pa—bago pa may makasingit na iba!”

Stacey clapped once for emphasis. “Exactly!”

But then she froze, her eyes going wide as a lightbulb practically appeared over her head.

“WAIT,” she hissed, leaning in. “Is she even single?!”

That made both of them stop in their tracks.

Aiah blinked. “Shit. Oo nga no?”

Maloi groaned, rubbing her face. “How the hell did we miss this question?!”

Stacey gestured wildly. “Ano, so all this time pinagpaplanuhan natin ’to tapos baka may jowa pala si bading?!”

Aiah’s eyes flickered toward Mikha’s empty desk. “Wala naman akong nakikitang picture,” she murmured, suddenly overthinking everything.

“Pero baka private siya,” Maloi whispered back. “Baka secret girlfriend na volleyball player or model. Or worse—an ex na hindi pa nakaka-move on?!”

Stacey clutched her chest like she’d been personally betrayed. “Lord, wag naman sana!”

And just like that, their grand seduction plan had hit its first speed bump—and they were already leaning into each other again, spinning up their next ridiculous, spy-level mission:

“Step one,” Stacey whispered. “Find. Out. Her. Relationship. Status.”

Aiah nodded solemnly. “Time to do some very casual stalking.”

Maloi smirked. “And if she’s taken…”

They all exchanged a look, gears already turning.

“…Aagawin,” Stacey said, lips twitching. “Pero kung single?”

Aiah grinned despite herself, her heart beating faster.

“Kung single,” she echoed, “kakagatin agad.”

”Okay,” Stacey whispered as she rolled her chair back toward her computer, fingers already poised on the keyboard like an undercover operative. “If she’s single, lalaban tayo. If not… well, may plan B. Time to do some stalking.”

“Friendster,” Maloi hissed, leaning in.

Aiah clapped her hands once in agreement. “Friendster, oo nga!”

Within minutes, they had Stacey’s clunky old desktop browser pulled up and were feverishly clicking through profile names.

“Anong last name ni Mikha?” Stacey muttered.

“Lim,” Aiah supplied. “Mikha Lim.”

“Eto,” Maloi whispered like she’d just uncovered a national secret. “Alam na alam ha.”

And there she was—Mikha Lim on Friendster, profile photo wearing a sporty hoodie and a shy smile.

They exchanged triumphant looks.

“Public pa ‘yung profile niya,” Stacey breathed. “Let’s see…”

By that afternoon, they’d roped in reinforcements.

Colet leaned against Stacey’s desk, arms crossed, grinning like a proud accomplice as she scrolled past Mikha’s photos. “Cute siya diyan ah,” she commented, waggling her brows at Aiah.

“Hoy,” Aiah groaned, cheeks going pink. “Focus!”

“I am focusing,” Colet teased. “On helping you score a date.”

“You too,” Stacey reminded her. “Tulong ka!”

And then—as if on cue—Sheena appeared, carrying her coffee and immediately jumping into the conspiracy like she was born for this.

“Oooh, who are we stalking?” she asked, perching on an empty chair.

Aiah hissed, “Mikha!”

“Oh,” Sheena cooed. “Bet mo ba? Akala ko sa article lang ako pwedeng sumulat ng seduction tips. Tara, game!”

And just like that, they had an entire team of girls crowding around one glowing Friendster profile.

When Gwen wandered past—arms full of notes and already looking tired—Sheena grabbed her sleeve. “Bebe, come here!”

Gwen looked at them like they were up to something—which, of course, they were.

“Gwen,” Stacey began sweetly, “you’re close to Mikha diba? Single ba siya?”

Gwen groaned immediately. “Oh my god. Why do you always do this?”

Maloi was already grinning. “Walang malisya, Gwen. Research purposes!”

“Ugh,” Gwen huffed, rubbing her face. “I dunno, okay? We just talk about sports. Don’t drag me into this!”

“Pero may nababanggit ba siya na girlfriend? Boyfriend? Crush?” Colet pressed, waggling her eyebrows.

Gwen hesitated, eyes flicking away. “Wala,” she muttered finally.

“Wala?” Aiah perked up.

Gwen groaned even louder this time. “WALA NGA. Happy?”

And with that one glorious word—“wala”—all five girls squealed like they’d just won the lottery.

“Single siya!” Stacey crowed, already spinning back toward her computer.

“Okay,” Maloi said, clapping her hands together. “This is it. The universe is telling you something, Aiah!”

Aiah stared at Mikha’s tiny profile photo on the screen—sporty, nerdy, cute as hell—feeling her face grow warm all over again.

“God help me,” she mumbled, but she was already smiling.

And around her, her ridiculous, meddling, perfectly supportive friends just grinned like they were only getting started.

—

A week passed.

And still—no big move.

Aiah had plenty of chances. Shared elevators. Passing her desk. The awkward small talk when they ended up making coffee at the same time. But every time, her courage just evaporated faster than a deadline.

So instead?

She resorted to lurking on Mikha’s Friendster like a lovesick teenager.

Late at night, while supposedly “researching,” Aiah would scroll through Mikha’s photos one by one.

The one with the hoodie, hands tucked into pockets—kiss.

The one playing volleyball on some grassy court—kiss.

The one holding a guitar and grinning at whoever was behind the camera—extra kiss.

Each time she clicked, she’d actually lean toward the monitor and blow a tiny kiss at the screen like it was some secret ritual.

“Lord, kung hindi siya para sa’kin…pilitin natin,” she’d mutter after, face burning.

And then there was her number, saved in Aiah’s phone like some holy grail “AaMikha Lim.”

She’d managed to snag it just two days ago—all casual and smooth (well, mostly).

“Hi, Mikha,” she’d called across their desks, sounding breezy. “Can you call me real quick? Na-misplace ko phone ko eh.”

Mikha looked up and smiled—a small, polite smile that somehow had Aiah’s stomach doing a backflip.

“Sure,” Mikha replied, already dialing.

And then—

Her phone buzzed loudly in her pocket.

Aiah froze for one ridiculous second before fumbling for it like she really had no idea it was there the whole time. “Oh, there it is,” she laughed, sounding exactly as smooth as a train wreck.

Mikha chuckled, shook her head, and went back to her work—completely unaware that on the other end of that ringtone was someone who would spend the next several nights making heart eyes at her Friendster photos like a teenager who hadn’t quite grown up yet.

—

Aiah was in her own little world.

Back at her desk earlier that afternoon, she’d pulled up Mikha’s Friendster profile again—just “checking,” of course—when she stopped on that photo of Mikha in the hoodie, smiling like some lowkey celebrity.

And without thinking, Aiah puckered up and actually sent a kiss at her monitor.

She wasn’t expecting Stacey and Maloi to come up behind her at exactly that moment.

“AY! Wala na baliw na!” Maloi squeaked, hand flying to her mouth.

“OMG,” Stacey gasped, eyes gleaming with mischief.

Aiah jumped like someone had thrown ice water on her. “Walang nakita! WALA!”

Stacey arched a brow. “Pa-rehab na ba tayo?”

Maloi was already doubled over laughing.

That was the day they decided they’d never let her live it down.

That night, after work, the three of them Stacey, Maloi, and Colet—dragged Aiah out to a bar as “payment” for Colet’s intel on Mikha. Drinks kept coming, the music was loud, and as the evening wore on, so did Aiah’s filter.

“Guys,” she groaned, slumping against the table, hands cradling her cheeks. “Seryoso, ang cute talaga ni Mikha. Ang cute cute cute. Parang baby, parang teddy bear. Gusto ko matulog sa kili-kili niya.”

Stacey rolled her eyes, swirling what was left of her drink. “I swear, gusto ko rin kayong magkatuluyan ha. Pero, pwede ibang topic naman?”

“Nooo,” Aiah whined, going full clingy-drunk. “Lord, sana siya na lang talaga. Ang lambot siguro nung cheeks niya. Gusto ko pisilin. Tapos halikan. Tapos—”

“That’s a kink, if you ask me,” Colet cut in, eyebrows wagging as she raised her glass.

Aiah shot her a look. “Anyway,” she continued dreamily, “ang cute niya talaga. Hindi ko kaya. Lord, siya na, please!”

That was when Stacey finally grabbed the phone out of Aiah’s hands.

“Grabe, ang ingay mo,” Stacey muttered, thumbs already typing.

“Hoy, anong ginagawa mo?!” Aiah squeaked, reaching across the table—too late.

“Walang gumagalaw, di ka naman gumagalaw,” Stacey smirked, hitting send. “There. Nag-hi na ako.”

And just like that, Stacey’s one-word message—Hi.— was sent straight to Mikha.

The entire table exploded into a mix of shrieks, groans, and laughter.

“Ano ba?!” Aiah panicked, hands clapping over her face like she could hide forever.

“Finally!” Maloi whooped, leaning into Colet.

And Colet just smirked, toasting her glass toward Stacey like they’d just won some ridiculous drinking game.

The four of them froze.

No one even dared to sip their drinks anymore—all eyes were locked onto Aiah’s phone like they were waiting for it to reveal the winning lottery numbers.

And then—

Ping!

A notification.

“OMYGOD,” Stacey whispered, hands clapping over her mouth.

Maloi squeaked like someone had stepped on her tail.

Colet practically lunged across the table.

Aiah’s heart did a full somersault as she unlocked the phone.

And there it was—plain and innocent as anything:

Mikha: Who’s this?

For one beat too long, nobody spoke.

And then Stacey burst into laughter. “Ay sus! Alam mo kasi, baks—we can’t just say ‘Hi’ like you’re some mysterious stranger!”

Aiah groaned, face already buried in her hands. “Tangina, what do I do?!”

Maloi grabbed the phone before Aiah could stop her, thumbs already poised over the keyboard. “Sabihin mo— ‘Crush mo.’”

“Hoy!” Aiah yelped, trying to snatch it back.

“Joke lang,” Maloi cackled, finally handing the phone over. “Ikaw na. But seriously, reply!”

Colet was grinning like this was the most entertaining thing she’d seen all week. “No pressure,” she teased. “Pero bago matapos ang gabi, dapat may reply ka na, ha?”

Aiah stared at the blinking cursor like it was going to jump up and bite her.

“Bakit kasi ‘Hi’ lang sinabi mo,” she muttered to Stacey. “Wala man lang pangalan!”

Stacey put up her hands in mock defense. “Basta move one na ‘yun! Bahala ka na sa next!”

And so there they were, all four of them gathered around Aiah as she slowly typed—deleted—typed again, and deleted once more, hearts racing like teenagers.

—

Mikha was sprawled comfortably on her couch, hair pulled back into a loose bun, a bowl of cereal balanced in her lap.

The house was quiet—just the faint murmur of the TV as she flipped lazily through channels, looking for anything that might catch her interest. Nothing really did.

With a sigh, she grabbed her new puzzle box from the coffee table and carefully pried the lid open. Tiny pieces spilled into her hands like confetti, the cardboard scent still sharp and new.

This was exactly what she needed after a long day—a bit of silence, a simple puzzle to work on, maybe even doze off halfway through. No deadlines. No small talk. No one was crowding her with questions. Just her, the puzzle, and some bad late-night television humming in the background.

She had just started turning the first pieces face-up, fingers moving in that focused, practiced way of hers, when—

Ping!

Her phone buzzed on the couch cushion.

Mikha paused.

That was odd—who was texting her this late?

Wiping her hands on her shorts, she grabbed the phone and swiped the notification open.

And there it was a simple, out-of-nowhere:

Hi.

Mikha frowned. No name. Just a number she didn’t recognize.

For a second, she just stared at it, thumb hovering over the screen.

“Who’s this?” she finally typed, casual and polite—though a tiny part of her was curious.

—

Aiah was hunched over her phone like it was a live bomb.

Stacey kept nudging her knee under the table. “Ano na?! Bilis!!”

Maloi had her hands pressed together like she was praying for a miracle. “She’s gonna fall asleep!”

Colet raised her glass. “Pustahan, 50 pesos na magti-type ‘yan tapos buburahin din!”

And sure enough—

“Wait, wait, wait,” Aiah muttered, typing and deleting, typing and deleting. Her thumbs moved in rapid, indecisive bursts:

Hey, it’s Aiah from work.

Delete.

Hi Mikha, it’s me.

Delete.

Heyyy, shawty!! It's me!!!

Delete.

Her friends were going nuts.

“Oh my god,” Stacey groaned. “Para kang nagme-message sa crush nung high school!”

Maloi grabbed the phone, shrieking, “Akin na nga!”

“Hoy!” Aiah yelped, yanking it back, face red as a tomato. “Ang kulit niyo!”

“You’ll never send that if you don’t get help,” Colet teased, leaning over to peek. “Or do you want me to do it?”

“No!” Aiah cried, eyes wide. “I swear I can do this!”

And just when they thought she’d give up entirely, she took a deep breath, eyes narrowing like she was about to jump into icy water, and started typing with purpose:

Aiah: Hi Mikha, it’s Aiah from the office. Sorry for texting so late. :)

The girls all read over her shoulder in hushed, excited silence as she hit send.

“FINALLY,” Stacey whispered, leaning back with a victorious grin.

Maloi fist-pumped the air like they’d just scored a game-winning goal. “Ayos!”

And Colet smirked into her drink. “Ayan, sabi ko sa inyo—kayang-kaya niya!”

Meanwhile, Aiah’s hands were still trembling as she stared at the screen, heart thudding like it was going to jump straight into her drink.

“Lord,” she muttered under her breath, eyes glued to the phone. “Please make her reply before I die.”

And the table went right back to leaning in like a jury waiting for a verdict, everyone’s nerves buzzing just as loud as the bar around them.

But before they could even lean back, buzz-buzz—Aiah’s phone lit up.

“Oh my god,” Stacey gasped, grabbing Maloi’s arm.

Maloi squeaked.

Colet nearly choked on her drink.

And there it was—plain as day:

Mikha: Hi, Aiah. What’s up?

For a second, all of them just stared at the screen in absolute disbelief.

“She replied?!” Maloi hissed, eyes too wide.

“Ang bilis!” Stacey whispered in awe.

Aiah felt her face flush so hot she thought she might catch fire. “Ano na ‘to?!” she squeaked, hands trembling as she gripped her phone like it might vanish.

Colet leaned in, grinning wickedly. “See? Hindi nga siya busy!”

“You have to reply,” Maloi urged, hands already clasped together like she was praying to every god in the universe. “Ngayon na!”

Stacey nodded so hard her hair bounced. “Oo, mabilis para natural lang. Parang wala kang planong i-Hi siya kanina!”

Aiah stared at the phone like it was going to bite her. “Anong isasagot ko?!”

Maloi waved her hands. “Chill lang. Casual lang. Just say you were wondering what she’s up to!”

“Or ask her if free siya this weekend,” Colet suggested with a wink. “Smooth na ‘yun!”

Aiah was already typing and deleting again, heart racing, hands clammy.

Meanwhile, Stacey was doing her best life coach impression. “Kaya mo ’yan, baks. Breathe muna!

Aiah: Hi again. Realized I never introduced myself properly earlier. Haha.

Stacey and Maloi leaned in close but Aiah was too busy grinning at her phone to even notice.

Mikha: Haha it’s okay. Thanks again for fixing my computer pala. I think I haven’t thanked you yet.

Aiah: “Fixed” is a strong word. Pretty sure I just scared it into working. Hahaha

Mikha: True. Maybe my computer just likes you.

That one line was enough to make Aiah kick Stacey’s chair under the table, cheeks pink. Stacey just raised a brow like “you’re welcome.”

Aiah: Or maybe your computer just knows who the coolest person in the office is.

Mikha: Haha wow. My computer’s a fan.

“Ang landi!” Maloi screamed.

Aiah: Guess that means you’ll have to text me whenever it breaks again. 24/7 IT support.

Mikha: Noted. Thanks, IT Support.

Aiah: Hahaha. Happy to help. Your computer’s my #1 fan now.

Mikha: Careful, baka maging jealous ako :(

Aiah stifled a squeak, her fingers flying across the tiny keypad.

Aiah: Jealous type ka pala? Hahaha

There was a pause, long enough for Stacey to lean over with a raised brow. “Ano na? Dead air?” she whispered. But then—

Mikha: Maybe. Hehe. Anyway, gotta sleep. We have work tomorrow.

Aiah’s heart did a tiny flip. Work. Tomorrow. That meant seeing Mikha again in a few hours. 

Aiah: Right rightt. See you in the office.

Aiah pressed send, then bit her lip like she’s holding in a scream. The girls stared at her like they’re waiting for the grand finale.

And then—

Mikha: Night night :)

That did it.

Aiah’s eyes went as big as saucers.

“Night night,” she squeaked to herself like it was some kind of secret spell.

Then she dropped her phone face-down on the table, hands flapping, squealing like a kettle about to boil over.

“Night night?!” Stacey echoed, grinning.

“Night night!!!” Maloi shrieked along with her.

And poor Colet could only laugh as Aiah basically vibrated in her seat, her face bright red and hands covering her mouth.

“She said NIGHT NIGHT,” Aiah managed to gasp between giggles, rocking back and forth like someone had given her too much sugar.

Stacey reached across to poke her. “Hala baks, congrats! Gumalaw ka na!”

But Aiah was too far gone—too busy memorizing every letter of that tiny, perfect reply.

—

The next morning, the office was a very different landscape.

Stacey, Colet, and Maloi trudged in like survivors of some natural disaster—bloodshot eyes, tangled hair, sunglasses still on.

Stacey was groaning into her hands at her desk.

Maloi was draped across hers like a dying swan. And Colet was gagging dramatically every time someone walked past with a takeout container that smelled even vaguely of fried food.

“Never drinking that much again,” Maloi muttered into her purse.

Stacey whimpered in agreement.

And then—

Aiah breezed into the office like she was stepping out of a commercial.

Freshly showered, hair brushed into soft waves, cheeks glowing like someone had personally installed ring lights under her skin.

“Morning,” she sang, voice bright.

Stacey pushed her sunglasses up just enough to squint at her.

Maloi slowly raised her face, eyes mere slits.

And Colet didn’t even bother looking up—she just groaned.

“Wow,” Stacey croaked, voice rough. “Blooming siya, oh.”

Maloi made a noise that was halfway between a grunt and a dying seal. “Ano ’to, new skincare?”

Aiah just grinned—a real, can’t-hide-it kind of grin—humming softly as she tucked her purse into her desk and powered up her computer like she had all the energy in the world.

“Baka may nag good morning,” Colet drawled without looking up.

Aiah paused—and then the pink in her cheeks deepened just a little more.

Stacey caught it instantly.

“Hala,” she said, sitting up straighter despite the hangover. “Uy, namumula!”

Maloi perked up too, wincing at her own loudness but grinning anyway. “So nag good morning nga?”

Aiah just shrugged, trying to look innocent—and failing.

And as they teased her, Aiah felt her phone buzz in her pocket again.

She bit back a smile as she glanced at the screen.

And it was Mikha.

She squealed—loud and high-pitched—loud enough that Stacey and Maloi both winced and shushed her at the same time.

“Ano ba?!” Stacey hissed, rubbing her temple.

“Ingay naman,” Maloi groaned.

But Aiah was too giddy to care. “Si Mikha!!!”

She unlocked her phone eagerly, eyes bright—

And then her smile froze as she read the message:

Mikha: Hi. Sorry. Please tell Gwen I can’t make it to work today. I don’t have her number pala. And Jhoanna’s on leave. Thanks.

Aiah blinked.

And blinked again.

That was it?

The squeal she’d let out hung awkwardly in the air.

Stacey raised a brow. “Ano na? Kinilig ka na naman diyan?”

Aiah slowly set the phone down like it had personally betrayed her.

“Wala,” she mumbled—face suddenly red for a different reason.

Maloi smirked, propping her chin on one hand despite her pounding head. “Akala mo sweet message, noh?”

And sure enough, Stacey burst into a scratchy laugh. “Ano ’yun—work excuse pala!”

Aiah groaned and slumped onto her chair, covering her face with both hands as they cackled at her.

“Okay lang yan,” Maloi teased. “At least may reason ka i-text siya again!”

And that thought was enough to make Aiah peek out between her fingers, one eye still hopeful.

Still pink-cheeked but recovering, Aiah took a deep breath and picked up her phone again.

Her thumbs hovered for a moment before she typed:

Aiah: Are you okay?

She hit send, then stared at the screen like it might explode.

Behind her, Stacey and Maloi were watching like hawks.

“Hoy,” Maloi whispered, “may pa-are you okay na siya.”

“Sus, papansin talaga,” Stacey teased, voice scratchy but full of amusement.

Aiah shot them a warning look—but she couldn’t hide the tiny smile tugging at her lips as she refreshed her inbox.

And there they sat, all three of them waiting for Mikha’s reply like it was the most important thing in the world.

But no reply came.

The minutes dragged on. Then hours.

Aiah worked like a robot—typing, editing, sending emails—but it was like all the color had drained from her world. The cheerful hum of the office, the usual banter from Colet and Sheena, Gwen’s sports updates—none of it made her smile.

Her friends noticed.

“Miss ko na siya,” Aiah mumbled at one point, staring blankly at her phone screen as if willing it to light up.

Maloi snorted, half-laughing, half-exasperated. “OA mo, baks!”

Stacey leaned over with a teasing grin. “Grabe ka. One day lang wala, ganyan ka na?”

But Aiah just sighed, chin propped on her hand, thumb hovering over the keypad like maybe—just maybe—Mikha’s message would pop up if she stared hard enough.

She checked her phone every chance she got:

At her desk.

In the pantry.

On the way to the restroom.

Each time the screen stayed stubbornly blank, the same old background, the same tiny clock ticking away—and no miracle notification.

And through it all, she kept thinking: Lord, kahit short reply lang.

By late afternoon, Stacey and Maloi were watching her in pure amusement as she unlocked her phone for the millionth time.

“Girl, baka wala siyang load,” Stacey teased.

But Aiah barely heard them anymore—too busy hoping, waiting, wishing.

—

A few weeks passed.

And there hadn’t been a single new text from Mikha.

No more casual back-and-forth. No more silly IT-support jokes. Nothing.

And Aiah?

Aiah was losing her damn mind.

She kept telling herself it was ridiculous—they weren’t even close, for crying out loud!—and yet she couldn’t help it.

Every morning she still woke up hoping to see Mikha’s name pop up on her phone.

Every time someone walked past her desk, she glanced up, heart skipping a beat before she realized it wasn’t her.

And every now and then, Stacey or Maloi would catch her blankly scrolling through Mikha’s old Friendster photos like they were relics.

“Baks, tigil mo na ’yan,” Stacey scolded one afternoon, plucking the phone right out of her hands. “Mabuang ka diyan.”

“I can’t help it,” Aiah groaned, dragging a palm down her face.

Maloi chuckled, leaning back in her chair. “Grabe. One night texting pa lang, in love ka na agad.”

And it was true—Aiah didn’t even know much about Mikha beyond what she’d seen at work and a handful of photos.

But it didn’t matter.

She was hooked.

And she had it so bad that even the sound of Mikha’s name—when someone so much as mentioned it—was enough to send her stomach into little flips.

“Ewan ko,” Aiah mumbled into her hands. “I just feel like… I really like her.”

Stacey smirked. “Kahit di mo siya kilala talaga?”

Aiah groaned, slumping further into her chair.

“Exactly,” she sighed. “And I’m losing my mind.”

—

And then it finally happened.

One random Tuesday afternoon, Aiah was halfway through editing a draft when Jhoanna’s voice cut across the office.

“Mikha, Aiah—can you come to my office for a sec?”

Aiah’s heart did a double-take.

Mikha.

With her.

In the same room.

She hurriedly grabbed her pen and notebook—hands suddenly clammy—and rushed toward Jhoanna’s door.

And then she froze as Mikha appeared right beside her in the hallway.

Mikha nodded hello, all casual in her usual sporty zip-up and those glasses that had started starring in all of Aiah’s daydreams.

Aiah swallowed.

Mikha reached for the doorknob.

And so did Aiah.

And their hands brushed.

Time stopped for that ridiculous half-second as warm fingers held warm fingers.

Aiah felt her whole body light up like someone had just plugged her into a socket.

“Sorry,” Mikha murmured quickly, pulling her hand back, her ears tinged pink.

But all Aiah could do was blink and scream internally—

OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD

By the time they were inside Jhoanna’s office, her brain was pure static.

Jhoanna was already leaning against her desk, looking between them with a casual smile.

“Glad you’re both here,” she began. “I want you two to collaborate on something special.”

Aiah snapped back to reality—sort of.

“You know that famous athlete slash fashion icon who’s starting to make noise in the country? The one who just did that big magazine cover last week?”

Mikha’s brow furrowed thoughtfully. “Ah, yes. Daniella?”

Jhoanna nodded. “Exactly. We just scored an exclusive interview with her. Sports and style. Perfect fit for you two.”

And as Mikha lit up at the thought of working on a big sports feature—and as Jhoanna kept briefing them on the details—Aiah was still sitting there like someone who’d survived a close encounter with a goddess.

Every word was washing over her.

Every glance Mikha threw her way was making her hands feel weirdly tingly.

And when Jhoanna finally wrapped up with, “You two make a good team,” all Aiah could do was give the most enthusiastic nod of her life—hoping Mikha couldn’t feel her heart crawling its way out of her mouth.

—

The day of the interview finally arrived, and the energy in the small studio was buzzing.

Lights set up.

Makeup people bustling.

And at the center of it all—Daniella, the country’s darling Olympic sprinter and model, glowing in a casual tracksuit that somehow looked straight off a runway.

Mikha was setting up her recorder and double-checking her questions, her face its usual calm and focused—but Aiah?

Aiah was on a different kind of mission.

This is it, she told herself as she straightened her blazer and practiced her most charming smile. Show Mikha you can do this. You can be smooth. Super smooth.

And as Daniella greeted them with an easy grin “Hey, you must be the team from Editor’s Cut. Ready to get started?”

Aiah jumped in first.

“Of course,” she said, voice bright and warm, one hand gesturing to the couch. “We’ve been looking forward to this all week. Have a seat—let us know if you need water or anything. Feeling okay before we dive in?”

Mikha shot her a quick glance—half-surprised, half-amused—and Daniella chuckled. “Aw, you two are sweet. I’m good. Thanks.”

Aiah gave Mikha a tiny I-got-this wink before turning her attention back to Daniella as they settled in.

And to Aiah’s delight, the conversation flowed like water.

Mikha started with insightful sports questions—training routines, mindset before races—and Daniella was happy to dive into all the nerdy details.

Meanwhile, Aiah jumped in seamlessly with style questions that kept Daniella laughing:

“What’s your go-to outfit when you’re not sprinting past everyone?”

“How do you feel about this new trend of bold colors?”

“You always look so confident in front of the camera—any pre-photoshoot rituals we need to know about?”

And Daniella responded easily, hands gesturing as she spoke, clearly enjoying the lighter, fun angle.

Every so often, Aiah would catch Mikha’s eye—and see her smirk or hide a small grin—and it felt like winning a prize every time.

By the end of the interview, Daniella was in such a good mood that she grabbed her digi cam and snapped a photo with both of them.

“Let’s do this again sometime,” she joked as they wrapped up, waving as her team led her off.

And when the door finally swung closed behind the superstar, Mikha exhaled, turning to Aiah with the hint of a smile tugging at her lips.

“You were good,” Mikha said simply.

Aiah could barely keep the grin off her face.

“Learned from the best,” she replied—and this time, the charm felt easy.

“Coffee tayo,” Mikha said casually as they gathered up their stuff.

And just like that—

Aiah’s whole chest went crazy.

For a split second she thought she’d misheard. “Coffee?” she repeated, voice just a bit too high.

Mikha glanced up, a tiny smile on her lips. “Yeah. My treat.”

And that was all it took.

Aiah felt her heartbeat jump straight into her throat.

She nodded so fast she could’ve given herself whiplash.

“Game,” she managed, hoping she still sounded like the cool, put-together version of herself she’d been practicing all day.

Mikha slung her laptop bag over her shoulder and gave a little shrug toward the door. “Let’s go?”

Aiah followed like she was on autopilot—hands clammy, ears warm, heart thudding loud enough she was sure someone could hear it.

And as they left the studio together, side by side, she caught herself grinning like an idiot—already wondering if this was going to feel like a real date, or at least the perfect start of one.

—

The café was one of those tiny, tucked-away spots with mismatched mugs, wooden tables, and indie music humming softly in the background.

They found a corner by the window.

Mikha ordered a plain Americano.

Aiah went for a vanilla latte—mostly because it gave her hands something to do.

For a moment they just sat there, stirring their drinks.

And then Mikha glanced up.

“So,” she began, casual and easy. “Why’d you go into writing?”

That broke the ice.

Aiah relaxed a bit, leaning her chin into her palm as she thought.

“Oh man. I was one of those kids who was glued to magazines,” she said. “My mom kept buying me fashion and lifestyle mags and I’d cut them up for collages. It kind of never stopped. Ikaw?”

Mikha took a slow sip of her coffee before answering.

“I grew up watching my cousins play sports. Never thought I’d play myself, but writing about them? That felt right. Sports stories, the kind that make people feel something, you know?”

Aiah felt her smile soften. “That’s really cool.”

Mikha nodded, then grinned a little. “Plus my tito would’ve thrown a fit if I decided to do accounting like him.”

That pulled a loud laugh from Aiah—one that echoed in the quiet café.

And to Aiah’s surprise, Mikha laughed too—a bright, genuine laugh that wrinkled her nose and showed her dimples.

That sound hit Aiah like a freight train.

Marry me marry me marry me, her brain screamed.

“Oh my god,” Aiah chuckled, cheeks warm. “That’s the first time I’ve heard you laugh like that!”

Mikha blinked, then looked a tiny bit shy. “Really?”

“Really,” Aiah grinned. “You always seem so serious at work. Parang may basketball game ka palaging pinaghahandaan.”

Mikha ducked her head and laughed again—softer this time.

And they just kept going.

They traded stories about their favorite articles.

Mikha’s proudest moment was an interview with a female college basketball player who was breaking records but stayed so humble.

Aiah’s favorite? A fashion profile she wrote about a local designer who sewed all her clothes by hand.

And then Mikha leaned back with a thoughtful sigh. “You ever wish you wrote something different? Something big?”

“Always,” Aiah said without missing a beat. “You?”

Mikha’s eyes went a little dreamy. “I’d love to do one of those big human-interest pieces. Something that follows an underfunded athlete through training and family stuff. Something real.”

Aiah was captivated—partly by the idea, mostly by Mikha, hands wrapped around her coffee, telling her what she loved.

And through it all, Aiah kept sneaking in little jokes just to see Mikha smile—like when she teased, “Uy, baka next article mo ganyan na, may MMK soundtrack pa.”

And Mikha just laughed again, not holding back this time.

By the end of their second cups, Aiah wasn’t sure if she was dizzy from the caffeine or the sound of Mikha’s laugh still humming in her chest.

When they finally stood up to leave, her heart felt too full— so full that she thought, maybe, just maybe, this was the first of many coffees together.

—

The article with Daniella went live a few days later—clean layout, sharp photos, smart questions.

Jhoanna had only a few minor revisions, mostly tightening a couple of Mikha’s sports questions and tweaking one of Aiah’s intros. They submitted the final version, high-fived briefly at their desks, exchanged “good work,” and that was that.

And then—nothing.

No flirty follow-up, no lingering glances.

Just light small talk when they’d pass each other in the halls.

Maybe a quick “coffee ka?” in the pantry, maybe a polite “see you tomorrow.”

That was it.

And it started to wear on Aiah in the most frustrating way.

One afternoon, as the office buzzed with the usual noise of keyboards and muted gossip, she finally cornered Stacey and Maloi by the pantry—stirring her coffee like she was trying to mix up her own thoughts.

“Alam niyo,” Aiah began with a sigh, voice low and tired, “maybe I should just move on.”

Maloi froze mid-chip, eyes going huge.

Stacey whipped around so fast her ponytail nearly smacked her in the face.

“What?!” they blurted in unison.

Aiah just gave a tired shrug.

“After nung interview, okay kami. Civil. We talk minsan. Pero nothing more,” she explained. “Baka nasa work-zone lang talaga kami.”

Maloi frowned. “Baks, baka nahihiya lang siya? Baka di pa niya gets na may crush ka sa kanya?”

Stacey nodded quickly. “Exactly. Hindi naman lahat smooth as you.”

Aiah chuckled dryly, rubbing her face. “Paano kung ganun nga talaga? Casual lang siya, chill. Ayoko naman pangunahan.”

There was a pause as they all glanced at each other, and the water dispenser bubbled quietly between them.

Finally, Maloi reached out and squeezed Aiah’s hand.

“Baks,” she said softly, “if you want to wait, wait. Pero if you feel like you gotta let it go, support kami.”

Stacey gave a big nod. “Walang pressure. You know what they say, bahala na si Batman.”

Aiah let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

“Thanks,” she murmured, feeling a tiny bit lighter even if her heart was still aching.

After a few beats of quiet, Colet wandered into the pantry, mug in hand.

She paused at the doorway, eyes flicking between the three of them—Stacey perched on the counter, Maloi leaning against the water dispenser, and Aiah staring into her coffee like it was telling her secrets.

“Wow,” Colet drawled, arching a brow. “Tahimik kayo ah. Weird.”

Stacey groaned and straightened up. “Wala, baks. Rest mode,” she said with a lazy shrug.

Maloi nodded a little too quickly. “Busy kami. Busy-busy-han,” she teased, winking at Colet as if that would explain the strange mood.

Colet’s eyes narrowed, clearly not buying it. “Sus,” she laughed, stirring her drink. “Out of character kayo.”

And just like that, the three of them exchanged a quick, guilty look—the kind that definitely didn’t help their case.

Colet sipped her coffee, smirking. “Chika nga,” she said, leaning against the counter like she had all day. “Ano ba ’yun? May bago ba tayong chismis o may drama na naman?”

Maloi gave an exaggerated sigh and shot Stacey a pleading look. “Baks, ikaw na nga,” she muttered.

Stacey cleared her throat. “Wala, Colet. Nag-uusap lang kami about…” she glanced at Aiah, who was very obviously pretending to read the coffee label on her mug. “…office stuff,” Stacey finished lamely.

Colet chuckled, entirely unconvinced, and took a slow sip of her drink. “Hmm. Okay,” she said with a grin. “Pero ’pag may bago, isali niyo rin ako, ha?”

And with that, she gave them a cheeky wink and sauntered out of the pantry—leaving the three girls in a brief, amused silence before Maloi finally burst into a quiet laugh.

When they finally emerged from the pantry, the mood had lightened—at least for Maloi and Stacey, who were back to their usual teasing.

But as they rounded the corner to their desks, Aiah noticed that Mikha wasn’t at hers.

Her chair was tucked in.

Monitor sleeping.

Headphones coiled neatly on top of her notebook.

Aiah paused for a moment, thumb still wrapped around her coffee mug.

And then she felt that familiar ache in her chest.

Fine, she thought, stealing herself. Time to move on.

After all, they still worked together.

That was the important part.

And if anything, this was proof of what she’d known deep down all along—why you never let intense feelings brew toward a colleague.

It never ends neatly.

She glanced once more at Mikha’s empty chair before turning back to her own screen and forcing herself to focus on her inbox—hoping the ping of new emails would drown out the tiny, stubborn part of her heart that still wished Mikha would walk by and catch her eye.

—

A few days passed, slow and uneventful.

And Aiah kept her promise—at least on the surface.

She focused on her deadlines, knocked out drafts, and hardly ever glanced toward Mikha’s desk anymore.

When they ran into each other by the copier or the pantry, she kept the chat light and breezy, polite—the kind of easy friendliness you’d have with any other coworker.

Maloi and Stacey noticed too.

No more Mikha’s profile sitting bookmarked in Aiah’s browser.

No more random sighing or daydreaming at her desk.

And most of all, no more bringing up Mikha unprompted.

Outwardly, Aiah was just Aiah the workmate—professional, present, unbothered.

And inwardly?

Every time Mikha smiled at her from across the room, a tiny part of her chest still fluttered.

Every quiet glance she stole when Mikha was too focused to notice reminded her that forgetting wasn’t going to happen overnight.

But still, she was determined.

And maybe, if she kept this up long enough, she’d finally become Aiah again—not the hopelessly in love, desperately yearning girl, daydreaming about kissing someone a few desks away.

—

It was a Thursday.

The office was colder than usual—the kind of damp chill that only comes with a heavy downpour outside. Thunder rumbled in the distance while rain lashed at the windows, making everyone in the newsroom move a bit slower than they normally would.

Gwen and Mikha were out for an interview across town.

And in the pantry, it was just Maloi, Stacey, and Aiah huddled around mugs of coffee like they could soak up the heat.

They were swapping thoughts on up-and-coming street-style brands and tossing around article ideas when, eventually, Stacey shot Aiah a sideways look, smirking.

“So,” Stacey began, dragging out the word, “kamusta kayo ni Mikha mo?”

Aiah immediately scoffed, rolling her eyes as she stirred her coffee a little too fast. 

“Please,” she huffed. “I’m over her.”

Maloi raised a brow. “Oh, talaga?”

Before Aiah could double down on her denial, a familiar voice cut through the clinking of mugs.

“You’re over me?”

They all froze.

Mikha stood in the doorway, hair damp and clothes a bit darkened by rain, one brow arched.

The three of them looked at her like they’d been caught robbing a bank.

And then Mikha, deadpan as ever, added, “When were you… under me?”

Aiah felt every drop of her blood rush to her face.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck

Her hands gripped her mug so tightly she thought it might crack.

Shit shit shit shit shit

Maloi coughed.

Stacey opened her mouth like she was going to say something—then thought better of it.

And Mikha?

Mikha just stood there, water droplets sliding off her jacket, lips twitching into the faintest, most dangerous stare.

“Okay, bye,” Stacey squeaked, grabbing Maloi’s wrist as they disappeared into the hall like their lives depended on it.

And then it was just Mikha and Aiah—the rain outside the window louder than ever.

Aiah’s hands were trembling around her coffee mug.

She kept her eyes fixed on the floor.

“It’s not what you think,” she blurted before she could stop herself, voice too quick, too tense.

Mikha paused mid-step, damp jacket creaking as she turned.

Her brow furrowed, and there was honest confusion in her eyes. “…What do you mean?”

Aiah swallowed, wishing the pantry tiles would just swallow her whole.

“Nothing,” she muttered, a helpless little laugh slipping out. “Just—forget it.”

But Mikha was already looking at her more closely now—as if sensing there was a story she hadn’t been told.

And that was the most dangerous thing.

“You’re acting weird,” Mikha said slowly, tilting her head. “And Stacey looked like she’d seen a ghost. What’s going on?”

Aiah’s heart thudded in her chest.

Her fingers felt wet against the mug.

“I just…” she started, then stopped.

And Mikha was still watching—genuinely concerned, genuinely curious—and that was what did it.

Aiah took a breath and forced a smile. “Nothing,” she repeated, sounding anything but casual. “Really. Wala yun.”

And even as Mikha held her gaze for a moment longer, Aiah knew Mikha hadn’t suspected a thing before—not until now.

Mikha took one slow, deliberate step closer, until Aiah could see tiny rain droplets still clinging to her lashes.

“Ahh,” Mikha said, lips twitching into a sly smile. “You’re hiding something, ha!”

Aiah felt her pulse jump.

She gripped her mug so tight her knuckles went white.

“Wala,” she protested, voice higher than she intended.

But Mikha wasn’t backing off.

She rested one hand casually on the counter, leaning in just enough that Aiah caught a whiff of her perfume—clean and rain-fresh—and could hardly remember how to breathe.

“Sure ka?” Mikha teased, head tilting, dark eyes glinting with curiosity. 

Aiah felt heat creep up her neck.

This was dangerous.

Too close. Too much.

KISS MO NA AKO SIGE NA PLEASE

“W-wala nga,” she squeaked, forcing a laugh and quickly averting her gaze.

Mikha paused, gaze lingering on her face a moment longer before finally stepping back with a light chuckle.

“Okay,” she drawled, hands sliding into her pockets as if she were satisfied just knowing she’d flustered her. “But I’ll remember this.”

And just like that, she sauntered toward the door, damp hair swaying slightly as she disappeared down the hall—leaving Aiah clutching her mug like a lifeline, face burning and heart thudding loud in her chest.

Aiah was just about to sink into one of the chairs, hoping to will her heartbeat back to something close to normal, when—

Mikha’s sneakers squeaked against the linoleum as she suddenly walked back in, eyes bright with a look that could only be described as a lightbulb moment.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Mikha said, an incredulous grin spreading across her face.

Aiah froze mid-breath.

“You…” Mikha paused in the doorway like she couldn’t believe what had just clicked in her brain.

Her gaze locked on Aiah, sharper now, more certain.

“…Do you like me?”

The world felt like it paused—

the hum of the office AC,

the rain outside,

the blood thudding in Aiah’s ears.

And Aiah, wide-eyed, lips parting like she was going to speak—but absolutely nothing came out.

Mikha took one careful step in, clearly waiting for her to say something.

“You do, don’t you?” she pressed gently, eyes searching.

Aiah could feel her face burning, hands going clammy all over again.

And all she could do was stand there—caught, exposed—with nowhere to hide and a million feelings spilling silently between them.

“Okay, fine!!” Aiah blurted, hands flying up in surrender as if she were cornered. “I have the biggest crush on you. Okay?”

Mikha blinked, lips parting as if she’d forgotten how to breathe.

“Because you’re always so cute!” Aiah barreled on, voice louder and more aggressive with every word. “And so composed! And so nerdy! And I love your glasses! And your bad posture is adorable! So there—I have a crush on you. I said it. Happy?”

Aiah was breathing like she’d just sprinted across the office, face hot, hands trembling, every nerve buzzing.

And Mikha—still standing in the doorway, damp hair clinging to her cheek—just stared at her, mouth slightly open, eyes shining like this was the best news of her life. Better than any olyimpic championship, even.

“You…” Mikha’s voice was soft, a little breathless. “You really like me?”

Aiah felt a nervous laugh bubble up but it died in her throat as she nodded once—quick, sharp.
“Y-yeah. I really do.”

For a moment, neither of them moved, the silence between them deeper than the rain outside.

And then Mikha smiled—small at first, then warmer, her whole face lighting up.

“I didn’t know,” Mikha murmured, and took one small step closer.

“You hide it really well,” she added, voice gentler now—eyes never leaving Aiah’s.

And Aiah could only stand there, heart pounding loud enough for the both of them.

“I kept trying to…ask you out,” Aiah admitted, voice small now, hands fidgeting with the hem of her skirt. “Pero nahihiya talaga ako.”

Mikha’s brow lifted, a soft laugh catching in her throat. “Wait,” she said, looking genuinely amused, “is that why you randomly texted me that one time?”

Aiah groaned, half-embarrassed, half-relieved that Mikha had picked up on it. “Yeah,” she muttered. “And why I kept, like… slowly picking things up in front of you.”

Mikha broke into a grin—the kind that reached all the way to her eyes. “Well,” she drawled, tucking a damp strand of hair behind her ear, “that…I noticed.”

Aiah’s face went red. “God,” she groaned, covering her face with both hands. “I’m so pathetic, aren’t I?”

“Hindi naman,” Mikha said, voice warm. “It’s kind of flattering.”

Aiah peeked at her through her fingers. “Okay,” she huffed, half-embarrassed, half-defeated. “Glad I could give you an ego boost. Congrats.”

She dropped her hands and took a shaky breath. “Anyway, it’s okay if, like, you don’t feel the same. We work together. I’ll recover. Crush lang ‘to.”

Mikha’s brow quivered at that. “Okay. Crush lang.”

Before Aiah could stammer a reply, Mikha pulled out her phone and thumbed at the keypad for a few beats. Then she held the screen up, facing it toward Aiah.

Aiah blinked.

“What’s that?”

“Look at your name in my contacts,” Mikha said, grinning.

And there it was on the screen—

AAAiah Office <3

Aiah’s jaw dropped.

“Huh?”

Her eyes darted from the phone screen back to Mikha, utterly confused—heart skipping so wildly she thought it might just burst.

Mikha was shy, laughing awkwardly and scratching the back of her head like she wasn’t sure what to do with her hands.

“Uh,” Mikha mumbled, cheeks pinking up. “I mean… yeah. That’s been your contact name for a while.”

Aiah stared at her, lips parted, still trying to catch up. “You—what? Why?”

Mikha let out a breathless chuckle, looking everywhere but directly at her. “I kinda…have a crush on you too.”

OH MY GOD OH MY GOD WHAT THE HELL WHAT THE HELL WHAT THE HELL

That one admission sent a warm, dizzying rush through Aiah. “You liked me this whole time?” she blurted.

Mikha nodded, finally daring to glance at her. 

“Mm-hmm,” she murmured, a shy grin tugging at her mouth. “But you always seem so busy—or you’re always with Stacey and Maloi. Di ako makasingit. And...I didn't want to ask you out through text. Parang hindi genuine.”

SO CUTE SO CUTE SO CUTE. Note to self: wag pansinin si Stacey and Maloi

And Aiah could only stand there, mouth opening and closing like a fish, the weight of everything that had been unspoken between them swirling in the small pantry like the rain outside.

She was just about to say something—this time with a bit more courage rising up in her chest—when a sharp voice cut through the quiet pantry.

“Guys, meeting muna tayo!” came Jhoanna’s voice from down the hall, summoning everyone like she always did.

Aiah let out a tiny breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

Mikha, though, was still looking at her, eyes bright and a little nervous all at once.

“Usap tayo ulit later, ha?” Mikha said softly, a shy grin tugging at her lips as she pushed her glasses up her nose—slowly, like she knew exactly what it did to Aiah.

And then—

Mikha held out her hand toward her, palm up and waiting.

Aiah’s heart did a lap around her digestive system. She was dying.

She glanced at Mikha’s face—hopeful, playful—and before she could overthink it, she slid her fingers into Mikha’s warm hand.

Mikha’s grin only grew. The kind of grin that would let everyone see how pleased she was. Championship level smugness.

—

Jhoanna was standing at the front of her office, voice all business as she went over the monthly report.

“Four percent lower ‘yung sales natin compared to last month,” she said, arms crossed and brow serious. “We need to do better. But,” she paused, glancing at Stacey with a small smile, “good job, Stace. Crowd favorite ‘yung fashion ethics na article mo. The rest of you… step up.”

Maloi rolled her eyes dramatically and leaned over toward Aiah. “Papansin talaga si Jho kay Stacey, no,” she whispered.

But Aiah was a million miles away.

Her knee was bouncing under the chair. Her hands still tingled like they could feel Mikha’s fingers between them. She was hardly hearing anything.

Sales? Who cares about sales?

All she could think was—We held hands!!!

Her heart was pounding so loud she was sure someone would call her out.

And then she glanced across the table—

And there was Mikha, back perfectly straight, pen moving carefully across her notebook like nothing world-changing had just happened.

Like she hadn’t just completely altered the trajectory of Aiah’s life with one shy, perfect gesture.

And Aiah had to bite back a grin so big her cheeks hurt.

—

As soon as Jhoanna dismissed them, Stacey and Maloi were on Aiah like a pair of bloodhounds.

“Hoy,” Stacey hissed, grabbing her elbow as they shuffled out into the hall. “Anong nangyari sa pantry?! Ang tagal niyo!”

Maloi was already grinning wickedly. “Girl, we saw you holding hands.”

Aiah just shrugged, lips twitching like she was trying to hide a secret smile. “Wala,” she said breezily.

Stacey’s jaw dropped. “WALA?!”

“Wala talaga,” Aiah replied, infuriatingly calm.

Maloi narrowed her eyes. “Hoy, wag mo kaming ginagago, bading!”

Aiah could feel their eyes boring into her—and it felt so good to keep the whole thing tucked safely to herself for now.

“Wala nga,” she teased, shrugging again.

Stacey groaned and hooked an arm around her neck. “Pag ikaw hindi umamin, wala kang kasama for dinner!”

“Okay lang,” Aiah replied, grinning outright now as they walked back to their desks.

And as she sat down, heart still light and hands still a little warm from earlier, she thought—Mine. That’s all mine for now.

—

As Aiah was setting her phone down, Mikha happened to pass by her desk—hands in her pockets, gaze on the floor.

“Hi,” Mikha offered, soft and a little breathless.

Aiah glanced up and broke into a grin. 

“Hi.”

And then neither of them moved.

They just…stood there, looking at each other.

Both giggly, both a little pink in the face, as if the whole world had disappeared except for the tiny space between them.

Finally, Aiah took a small step closer. 

“Can I…?” she teased, reaching up before Mikha could react and gently sliding her glasses off her face.

Mikha blinked up at her, eyes suddenly bigger without the frames—and Aiah felt her heart speed up and slow down at the same time.

Then, laughing, she perched the glasses on her own nose. “How do I look?”

Mikha bit her lip, gaze locked on her like she was the most fascinating thing in the room.

And for a moment too long, they just stared—Mikha leaning in ever so slightly, Aiah forgetting that anyone else even existed—until Mikha finally murmured, voice soft and a little breathless,

“Really, really cute.”

Okay, it’s over. I’m winning at life.

Out of the corner of her eye, Aiah caught movement.

Stacey and Maloi were literally jumping behind the nearest cubicle like they’d just witnessed a soap opera kiss. They were squealing into their hands, whispering rapidly—eyes huge and glowing.

Mikha finally noticed too and let out a soft, breathless laugh, rubbing the back of her neck.

“Hi,” she said to them, voice caught halfway between shy and amused.

They just squeaked louder.

Mikha hesitated for a second, then cleared her throat awkwardly. “Pwede… I mean, uh,” she glanced at Aiah like she was gathering every bit of her courage, “can I, like, have Aiah for lunch?”

Stacey and Maloi didn’t even bother answering with words—they just squealed at an even higher pitch, clasping each other like they were going to pass out.

And Mikha laughed again—this bright, unguarded sound—looking back at Aiah with that sweet, hopeful smile.

Aiah could feel her face heating up as she handed back Mikha’s glasses.

“Yes na yan,” she grinned, heart thumping wildly.

The two of them disappeared into the elevator—shoulders brushing, hands almost touching—Stacey and Maloi clung to each other like they’d just survived the most stressful romcom finale of their lives.

“Grabe,” Stacey sighed dramatically. “Nagka-love life na si Aiah, di pa tayo nakapag-diet.”

Maloi nodded solemnly. “Priorities.”

And from somewhere near the pantry, Colet’s voice floated out:

“Uy, may bago na akong article idea—‘Polygamy and PH Levels!’”

Jhoanna poked her head out of her office, one brow raised. “Sales muna, girls. Sales muna.”

—

By the end of the week, the office had settled into its familiar rhythm—phones ringing, keyboards clacking, deadlines inching closer.

But there was a new lightness in the air.

Aiah and Mikha sat just a little closer. Shared coffee breaks that lasted a few minutes too long. Stole glances across their desks that nobody but Stacey and Maloi ever noticed—mostly because they wouldn’t stop looking.

And every time Mikha stopped by Aiah’s desk, Stacey and Maloi would do an exaggerated cough, or whip their heads around like they hadn’t been spying the whole time.

“Subtle talaga,” Aiah teased one afternoon.

“Wala kami ginagawa,” Maloi said—exactly as she was leaning over to read Aiah’s phone screen.

And Mikha?

She just laughed and pulled up a chair like she belonged there.

Across the room, Gwen was pointing at her laptop, whispering to Sheena about a new column idea.

Sheena gave her that slow, fond smile before brushing a stray strand of hair from Gwen’s face—“You work too hard,” she murmured, voice low enough that only Gwen could hear.

Jhoanna walked by, catching the gentle exchange, and paused long enough to lean against Stacey’s desk.

“Stace,” she said, lips twitching in amusement, “mukhang inspired tayo lately, ah?”

Stacey glanced up, face pinking immediately.

“Um, yes, boss,” she replied too quickly—earning a wink that left her a flustered mess as Jhoanna strolled back to her office, humming.

And then there was Colet and Maloi in the pantry, their hands brushing as they reached for the same coffee mug.

“Ay,” Colet laughed, “sorry sayo na.”

“Sabi mo eh,” Maloi teased, already pulling Colet close enough to kiss her cheek—and Colet just grinned, utterly charmed.

Somewhere behind them, Aiah and Mikha were still sharing whispered jokes and gentle looks; Gwen and Sheena were swapping soft, knowing smiles; Stacey was trying to hide the goofy grin Jhoanna had left on her face; and Maloi was leaning into Colet like they had all the time in the world.

From her office, Jhoanna peeked out one last time, hands tucked into her pockets—“Sales muna,” she called out playfully.

And everyone groaned in unison—except for Stacey and Maloi, who never really listened to anything except their own delusions.

—

When everyone settled back into work, Aiah couldn’t help stealing glances at Mikha across the office—especially at those black-rimmed glasses perched perfectly on her nose. Something about them made Aiah feel absolutely ridiculous, like Mikha could rob her blind and she’d probably say thank you, then offer to carry the bags too—and maybe even leave her a tip just for looking that cute.