Chapter Text
VINYL BREW CAFE
In the early 2000s, when Manila still hummed with the static warmth of cassette tapes and scratched CDs, Cubao Expo had a peculiar kind of charm.
The place smelled faintly of cigarette smoke, old wood, and rainwater drying on concrete. Indie record stalls lined the narrow alleys, selling everything from pirated CDs to rare vinyl pressings that collectors argued over like sacred artifacts. Jeepneys rattled along Aurora Boulevard nearby, their radios blasting Rivermaya, Eraserheads, or sometimes a distorted copy of Parokya ni Edgar’s “Halaga.”
And tucked in one of the quieter corners of the Expo sat a café called Vinyl Brew.
It was small enough that the scent of freshly ground coffee beans wrapped around every customer like a quiet embrace but what made Vinyl Brew different from the dozens of other cafés sprouting around Manila at the time was the side wall.
Shelves full of vinyl records like classic OPM albums, foreign bands, even those secondhand records that crackled when played. Beside them was an old and vintage Technics turntable, slightly worn but maintained properly by the woman who owns it, named Mikha, the owner of the café.
And the woman who owned it.
Mikha Lim had a reputation, a dangerous one. At twenty-five, Mikha carried herself with the effortless confidence of someone who knew she was attractive. She wasn’t that tall, but she had presence. Mid-length red hair that framed her face just enough to make her look rebellious without trying. A sharp jawline softened by a smile that could melt most women’s defenses and eyes that looked like they knew secrets you hadn’t even admitted to yourself yet.
Her style leaned toward cool but undeniably femme. Low-rise dark jeans that hugged her hips and fitted baby tee with faded prints of singers like Nelly or Britney. Sometimes it’s a cropped denim jacket. Or a silky blouse left unbuttoned just enough to hint at mischief and almost always a silver chain necklace resting against her collarbone.
If she wasn’t inside the café, she could usually be found leaning casually against the wall with a Nokia 3310 tucked in her back pocket and a cigarette between her fingers.
Another thing about her? Is that Mikha Lim didn’t chase women. Women chased her but she never kept them long.
Take Trina, for example.
A law student from Ateneo who started coming to Vinyl Brew every Thursday evening who always wore structured blazers and carried a thick Motorola pager clipped to her belt, her expression always is serious until Mikha leaned over the counter and greeted her with that slow, knowing smile.
Three weeks later, Trina had confessed she thought Mikha was “different.” Four weeks later, Mikha had already stopped answering her calls.
Then there was Patricia, a model from an ad agency nearby. She had the kind of beauty that turned heads everywhere she went. Long legs, glossy hair, oversized sunglasses even indoors.
She once spent an entire afternoon sitting on the counter at Vinyl Brew while Mikha played The Corrs on the turntable and poured her iced coffee into a transparent cup.
Patricia lasted exactly two weeks. After that, Mikha simply lost interest.
And then there was Kiara, a drummer from an indie band that performed at underground gigs in Malate.
Kiara was fiery, loud, reckless. She and Mikha had dated for three chaotic months filled with midnight drives, cheap beer, and arguments that ended in laughter.
Kiara called Mikha a heartbreaker when they finally ended things. Mikha didn’t deny it.
None of these relationships lasted. None of them were meant to. Mikha liked things simple with no expectations, no attachments and fortunately, no one getting too close. That had always been the rule.
Until Aiah entered Vinyl Brew two years ago.
Mikha still remembered the day, it was raining. Not the gentle drizzle Manila sometimes got, but the loud, impatient kind that flooded the streets and made jeepney drivers curse under their breath. She remembered how the café had been nearly empty that afternoon.
Mikha was sitting on a stool behind the counter, lazily flipping through a stack of records, when the door creaked open then a girl stepped inside. She looked drenched. Not completely soaked, but close enough that raindrops clung stubbornly to her long hair and the sleeves of her simple pastel cardigan.
She carried a worn canvas tote bag and clutched a folded umbrella that had clearly seen better days.
“Sorry,” she said softly, stepping inside. “Are you hiring?” Her voice had been gentle and calm like someone who didn’t rush even when the world around her did.
Mikha looked up and for the first time in a long while, she forgot what she was about to say.
Aiah wasn’t the kind of woman Mikha usually noticed because she dressed simply. A plain white blouse, slightly oversized, a knee-length skirt, and comfortable flats instead of heels. No flashy accessories except a thin silver bracelet and a small cross necklace resting against her collarbone.
But there was something about her, something warm, something bright, the kind of presence that made a room feel calmer just by existing in it.
Mikha had hired her on the spot, not because she needed another barista but because something about Aiah made her curious.
----
Two years later, Aiah had become the quiet heart of Vinyl Brew. Customers adored her. She remembered people’s orders without writing them down. She greeted everyone with the same soft smile. She played the turntable carefully, always wiping the records before placing them down.
And when she laughed?
It was light, the kind of sound that made people look up without realizing why.
Mikha hated how much she noticed it. She noticed the way Aiah tucked loose strands of hair behind her ear while concentrating. The way she hummed softly along to Eraserheads songs while making coffee.
The way her eyes softened whenever someone mentioned their family and honestly? It annoyed Mikha because unlike every other woman she had ever met… Aiah never flirted with her.
Not once. Not even accidentally.
Mikha flirted with everyone like it was practically muscle memory with a teasing comment here, a playful wink there and it worked every time.
Except with Aiah.
“Ma’am Mikha,” Aiah would say politely whenever Mikha leaned too close over the counter.
God knows how much that “ma’am” irritated her.
“You don’t have to call me that,” Mikha reminded her once.
Aiah smiled. “But you’re my boss.”
“Then call me Mikha.”
Aiah nodded.
But the next day she still said, “Ma’am Mikha.”
Damn. Somehow that made Mikha notice her even more.
Two years passed like that. Two years of Mikha dating women who came and went. Two years of Aiah quietly working double shifts, saving money, sending most of it back to her family in the province. Two years of Mikha pretending she didn’t care.
Until one evening changed something…
It was closing time and the café was nearly empty except for the faint crackle of a vinyl record spinning.
Rivermaya’s “214.”
Aiah was wiping down the counter. Her cardigan sleeves were rolled up slightly, exposing the delicate curve of her wrists.
Mikha watched her from the other side of the room. Watched the way the warm yellow lights softened her features. Watched the way she hummed quietly with the music.
And suddenly, Mikha realized something unsettling, that she hadn’t noticed the other women she dated recently. No, not the way she noticed Aiah or the way she watched her without meaning to or the way her chest felt strangely tight when someone flirted with Aiah at the counter.
That realization sat heavily in Mikha’s mind for weeks, she ignored it at first and pretended it meant nothing. She even dated someone new.
A DJ from Katipunan that lasted exactly ten days because the entire time Mikha found herself wondering what Aiah was doing at the café.
And that’s when Mikha Lim, the woman who had broken more hearts than she could count, made a decision that felt suspiciously like trouble.
She was going to pursue Aiah.
And for the first time in her life, Mikha had absolutely no idea what she was doing.
By the year 2002, Cubao Expo had grown louder. Not literally louder, although the bars had started blasting Parokya ni Edgar and Kamikazee late into the night, but louder in the way places become when more people start discovering them. Students from UP Diliman wandered in wearing oversized cargo pants and messenger bags. Indie musicians argued over which Eraserheads album was the best while flipping through vinyl crates. Someone was always selling bootleg CDs burned on silver discs labeled with black Pentel pen.
But inside Vinyl Brew, the atmosphere remained almost stubbornly warm. Coffee beans grinding, Vinyl crackling with soft OPM music echoing against wooden shelves and behind the counter stood the one person Mikha Lim had recently begun noticing with dangerous clarity.
Aiah.
Mikha had spent most of her adult life perfecting the art of not caring. It was a skill she developed early. Care too much, and people expected things from you. Promises, commitment, explanations. Mikha avoided all three like a plague. Which was why she built a reputation around Cubao Expo that was equal parts admiration and warning.
If you date Mikha Lim, you would have a good time or laugh or you would flirt over late-night coffee and share cigarettes outside the café but you would never be the only one.
And eventually, you would be replaced.
Her most recent distraction had been Paula, a communications student from Miriam College who wore chunky platform sandals and carried a tiny silver Nokia 8250 everywhere she went.
Paula liked attention and Mikha liked giving it. For a week, Paula had practically lived at Vinyl Brew. She perched on one of the bar stools every afternoon, sipping iced mocha while flipping through magazines like Candy or Cosmopolitan Philippines. Sometimes she’d lean across the counter and twirl a strand of Mikha’s red hair around her finger like it belonged to her.
“Tambay na naman dito bata mo?” Sheena, Mikha’s friend, one of their regular customers, once teased when she dropped by the café.
Mikha just smirked. “She’s not my girlfriend.”
Paula overheard that and she didn’t like it. The relationship only lasted three days after that.
Another had been Lara, a photographer who documented underground gigs around Manila.
Lara had short, bleached hair and wore baggy band shirts tucked into low-rise jeans. She and Mikha met during a small indie show somewhere in Pasay where the speakers were so loud the bass rattled through their ribs. They kissed behind the venue that night. By the second week, Lara had started leaving her camera bag behind the café counter like she belonged there.
By the third week, Mikha stopped answering her messages.
It was always like that.
Fast.
Easy.
Disposable.
Mikha never apologized for it.
She simply… moved on. Except now something strange had started happening. Whenever Mikha flirted with someone new, her eyes would drift across the café, toward the espresso machine. Toward the girl tying her hair into a loose ponytail while measuring coffee beans.
Toward Aiah.
Aiah had been working at Vinyl Brew for two years now, yet somehow she still carried herself like someone who was slightly apologetic for taking up space her clothes were always simple, nothing flashy.
Usually a soft blouse tucked into a long skirt, or sometimes loose slacks paired with a cardigan that looked like it had been washed so many times the fabric had softened.
Her shoes were always flat and comfortable. Sometimes Mikha caught glimpses of worn edges near the soles but even in those simple outfits Aiah looked quietly beautiful. Not in the loud way that demanded attention but in the kind of way that slowly pulled your eyes back toward her without you realizing it.
Mikha noticed everything, she noticed the way Aiah’s nose scrunched slightly whenever the espresso machine hissed too loudly. She also noticed the way Aiah hummed along to songs playing on the turntable. Most recently it had been “With a Smile” by Eraserheads, which Aiah sang softly under her breath while organizing cups.
She noticed how customers lingered longer whenever Aiah took their orders and she especially noticed the way Aiah’s laughter made the café feel brighter.
Mikha hated noticing because noticing meant feeling and feeling meant trouble.
----
One afternoon, a group of college girls came into Vinyl Brew giggling loudly, their arms full of shopping bags from Greenhills tiangge then they immediately spotted Mikha leaning casually against the counter.
One of them nudged her friend. “Siya yung owner,” she whispered.
Another girl smiled boldly. “She’s cute.”
Mikha heard that. Of course, she did so she flashed them the same charming grin she’d used a thousand times before.
“Coffee?”
The girls laughed.
One of them leaned forward. “Only if you make it.”
Mikha winked. “Deal.”
Across the counter, Aiah was grinding beans. She didn’t look up but Mikha noticed the faintest curve of a smile on her lips. She doesn’t look jealous, annoyed, just… amused.
And that irritated Mikha.
Later that evening, when the customers had thinned out and the sky outside had turned a deep purple over Aurora Boulevard, Mikha leaned against the counter beside Aiah.
“So,” Mikha said casually.
Aiah glanced at her.
“Po, Ma’am Mikha?”
There it was again, that Ma’am.
Mikha sighed. “You know you’re the only one who still calls me that.”
Aiah smiled softly. “Boss kita.”
“You’ve worked here two years.”
“That doesn’t change the fact.”
Mikha shook her head. “You’re impossible.”
Aiah returned to wiping the counter. “Thank you.”
Mikha studied her for a moment then, almost without thinking, she spoke. “You know,” Mikha said lightly, “we’ve never gone out.”
Aiah blinked. “Out?”
“Yeah.” Mikha shrugged. “Dinner. Movie. Something.”
Aiah stared at her like she was trying to process the sentence then she laughed like actually laughed. And Mikha felt something strange happen in her chest.
“Ma’am Mikha,” Aiah said gently, “Joker ka?”
“I’m not.”
Aiah tilted her head. “You’re the owner of the café.”
“And?”
“You date… different girls every month. Paano tayo lalabas?”
Mikha raised an eyebrow. “We can naman, when I am not occupied but still.”
Aiah wiped her hands with a small towel then she looked directly at Mikha. Her expression was kind, too kind. “I think,” Aiah said softly, “it’s better if we stay like this.”
Mikha frowned. “Like what?”
“Boss and employee.”
And… that was Rejection Number One.
It was polite, calm, and almost painless.
Almost.
Mikha stared at her for a moment longer then she chuckled. “Wow. You rejected me.”
Aiah looked confused then she blinked. “I didn’t reject you.”
“You just did.”
“I just said—”
“You said no.”
Aiah hesitated then she laughed awkwardly. “Hehe.”
But for some reason, that made Mikha grin, not the cocky grin she used on other women because in Mikha Lim’s twenty-five years of existence, it’s just few women, almost none, had ever said no to her.
Three days later, Mikha tried again. It happened after closing.
The café lights were dim, and the last vinyl of the night was playing. “Dreaming of You” by Selena.
Aiah was counting the cash register.
Mikha leaned against the shelf of vinyl records. “You’re free on Sunday, right?”
Aiah didn’t look up. “I usually do laundry on Sundays.”
Mikha chuckled. “Laundry.”
“Yes.”
“What if I said I’d take you somewhere nice?”
Aiah continued counting bills. “That’s generous.”
“And?”
“And I still have laundry.”
Rejection Number Two. Even simpler than the first.
Mikha stared at her. “Are you serious?”
Aiah nodded. “Opo.”
Mikha ran a hand through her hair. “You’re rejecting me for laundry.”
Aiah looked up finally and smiled in that soft, apologetic way she always did. “My Tita sends their clothes through the bus every month.”
Mikha frowned.
“I wash them here before sending them back. I am making extra money for it.”
That made Mikha pause. “You wash your relative’s laundry?”
Aiah nodded. “Anything that feeds me and my family.” Her voice wasn’t embarrassed, just factual.
“Where are they? Your family”
“Cebu.”
“And you send money to them?”
“Most of my salary.”
Mikha didn’t know what to say. For the first time, she realized something.
Aiah wasn’t rejecting her because she didn’t like her. She was rejecting her because her life was already full. Full of responsibilities Mikha had never needed to think about.
That night, after Aiah left the café and walked toward the jeepney stop with her canvas tote bag slung over her shoulder, Mikha remained inside Vinyl Brew alone. The turntable kept spinning quietly. The needle scratching softly at the end of the record. Mikha leaned against the counter, staring at the door Aiah had just walked out of.
Something unfamiliar stirred inside her chest, it’s not frustration, wounded pride but something deeper, something dangerous because for the first time, Mikha didn’t want to win Aiah. She wanted something worse. She wanted Aiah to choose her.
And Mikha had absolutely no idea how to make that happen.
-----
By the time 2003 rolled around, Cubao Expo had become the kind of place people described as underground even though half of Manila already knew about it.
The alleys buzzed at night with students, artists, musicians, and the occasional bored rich kid pretending to be indie for the evening. Bars blasted distorted guitar riffs from 6cyclemind, someone somewhere always sings Sarah Geronimo’s Forever’s not Enough on repeat on a videoke, and pirated CDs sold out of plastic sleeves stacked in milk crates.
But Vinyl Brew remained oddly untouched by the chaos outside as it stayed warm, steady and familiar and the center of that quiet familiarity was always the same girl standing behind the espresso machine.
Aiah.
Mikha noticed it more now. Not just the obvious things but the soft way Aiah spoke, or the calm way she handled difficult customers, but the smaller details that most people would miss if they weren’t paying attention.
Mikha had begun paying attention, far more than she should have. She noticed how Aiah counted coins carefully before placing them in the register, lips moving silently as she added the totals in her head. She noticed the way Aiah’s handwriting curved neatly across the order notebook when they ran out of receipt paper. She noticed the way Aiah sometimes rubbed her wrist when she thought no one was looking, the quiet sign of someone who had been working too many hours for too long.
But what fascinated Mikha most was the way Aiah carried her responsibilities. Not dramatically, just… quietly like someone who had accepted that life demanded certain things from her, and she would meet those demands with gentle persistence.
It was a kind of strength Mikha had never needed, therefore never understood.
…until now.
⸻
Mikha’s usual relationships had always revolved around excitement. Late-night drives along EDSA with the windows down while The Corrs played from the car stereo. Sneaking into underground gigs in Malate or sharing cigarettes outside dimly lit bars or kissing against alley walls while Manila’s neon lights flickered overhead.
Everything about those connections burned bright and fast but they never lasted because if she was honest with herself, something she avoided whenever possible, she had never truly let any of those women see her.
Not the real her, just the charming version she presented. The one that left before things became complicated but Aiah had somehow stepped into Mikha’s life without playing by any of those rules.
Aiah didn’t flirt, didn’t chase, didn’t even seem particularly impressed by Mikha’s reputation. If anything, Aiah treated her the same way she treated everyone else.
Kind. Respectful. Mildly amused. And strangely untouchable.
The third time Mikha asked Aiah out happened on an afternoon thick with Manila heat.
The electric fans inside Vinyl Brew whirred loudly, doing their best to fight the humidity creeping through the café’s open windows. Outside, a jeepney blasted “Narda” by Kamikazee, the chorus echoing briefly through the narrow alley before fading into traffic noise.
Inside the café, Aiah was restocking the vinyl shelves. She handled each record with surprising care, gently sliding them back into their sleeves before arranging them alphabetically.
Mikha leaned against the counter watching her.
Aiah pulled out a record from the crate. “Display ko sa labas, Ma’am?” she asked.
Mikha glanced at the album cover.
Eraserheads: Cutterpillow
“Yeah,” Mikha said absentmindedly.
Aiah placed it carefully on the front rack.
Mikha crossed her arms.
“You like them a lot.”
Aiah looked at her. “The Eraserheads?”
“Yeah.”
Aiah nodded.
“My kuya used to play their cassette tapes all the time.” Her expression softened slightly, the way it always did when she talked about her family. “He said their songs made studying less boring.”
Mikha smirked. “And did they?”
“Sometimes.” Aiah turned back to the shelves. “I still listen to them when I miss home.”
Mikha studied her for a moment then she spoke. “Come with me tonight.”
Aiah blinked. “Where?”
“There’s a small gig in Katipunan,” Mikha said casually. “Indie bands. One of them’s pretty good.”
Aiah hesitated. “May work po ako tomorrow.”
“It starts at ten.”
“I still have to wake up early.”
“For laundry again?”
Aiah laughed softly. “Yes.”
Mikha tilted her head. “You really like saying no to me, don’t you?”
Aiah’s smile faded into something gentler. “I don’t like saying no.”
“Then say yes.”
For a moment, Aiah didn’t answer. She placed another vinyl record back into its sleeve then she spoke quietly. “I can’t.”
That’s Rejection Number Three.
Mikha didn’t argue this time she simply nodded. “Alright.” But the word sat strangely on her tongue because for the first time in her life, Mikha wasn’t losing interest in someone who turned her down.
If anything, her curiosity kept growing.
⸻
Weeks passed, Vinyl Brew remained busy. Customers came and went. Girls still flirted with Mikha. Mikha still flirted back out of habit but something had shifted.
And Aiah noticed it before Mikha did.
It happened one evening when a girl named Bianca showed up at the café wearing a tight pink tank top and carrying a Sony Discman clipped to her belt. She leaned across the counter, smiling boldly at Mikha.
“You never called me back.”
Mikha shrugged, not even surprised. “I was busy.”
“Busy doing what?”
“Running a café.”
Bianca laughed. “You could’ve called.”
“Could’ve.”
“You didn’t.”
“Nope.”
Bianca sighed dramatically. “You’re impossible.” Then she leaned forward slightly. “Dinner tonight?”
For a moment, Mikha considered it. This was exactly the kind of situation she normally accepted without thinking, without emotional complications but before she could answer, her eyes drifted across the café to where Aiah was wiping down a table near the window.
Aiah wasn’t looking at them, she was humming “Rainbow by South Border” softly to herself while stacking cups but something about the scene made Mikha hesitate.
Bianca noticed. “Hello?”
Mikha blinked then she smiled politely. “Maybe some other time.”
Bianca stared at her. “You’re rejecting me?”
Mikha shrugged while still watching Aiah. “Looks like it.”
Across the café, Aiah looked up briefly. Their eyes met for half a second then Aiah smiled and Mikha’s stomach did something very strange.
⸻
The fourth attempt happened three days later.
This time Mikha didn’t try to be casual. She waited until closing until the café was quiet except for the slow crackle of vinyl spinning on the turntable.
Tonight’s record was Rivermaya’s “You’ll Be Safe Here.”
Aiah was finishing the nightly inventory while Mikha stood near the vinyl shelves, arms crossed.
Then Mikha spoke. “Come eat with me.”
Aiah didn’t look up. “Now?”
“Yes.”
“Maglilinis pa ako.”
“We can finish it after.”
Aiah paused. Finally, she lifted her gaze. “Mikha…”
It was the first time she’d said Mikha’s name without the Ma’am and for some reason, that small detail made Mikha’s chest tighten.
“You know why I keep saying no?” Aiah said gently.
“Because you think I’ll break your heart?”
Aiah shook her head slowly. “No.”
“Then why?”
Aiah hesitated then she placed the notebook down. “When I left Cebu,” she said quietly, “my parents sold part of our land so I could go to college.”
Mikha listened.
“I studied for two years,” Aiah continued. “Kaso nagkasakit ang tatay ko.” Her voice remained calm. “I had to stop.”
Mikha frowned. “You never told me that.”
“It didn’t seem important.”
“It is.”
Aiah shook her head slightly. “Kailangan ko lumuwas ng Maynila para magtrabaho, para makapagpadala sa bahay. Mga kapatid ko, sakin pa umaasa.” She folded her hands together. “I’m not like the girls you date, Mikha.”
Mikha’s voice softened. “I know.”
“’di ko pa afford ang distractions. Ang mahal eh. ”
“That’s what you think I am?”
Aiah looked at her gently. “Right now? Yes.”
…Rejection Number Four.
For the first time since this strange pursuit began, Mikha felt something close to heavy pain. It is because Aiah wasn’t rejecting her out of fear or dislike or indifference.
Aiah was rejecting her because life had given her no room to risk heartbreak.
And suddenly, for the first time in Mikha Lim’s life, she wondered if she had ever been serious about anything at all.
⸻
Mikha stood in the silent café long after Aiah left that night. The vinyl record had reached its end. The needle clicked softly against the empty groove. Outside, Cubao Expo buzzed with laughter and music and life.
But inside Vinyl Brew, Mikha leaned against the counter, staring at the door. Thinking about the girl who had rejected her four times now. Thinking about the way Aiah had said her name earlier.
Mikha.
Not boss, not Ma’am. Just Mikha.
And somehow, that single word made everything feel different.
------
By the middle of 2003, something subtle began changing inside Vinyl Brew.
At first, no one could quite name what it was. The café still smelled the fresh coffee beans, old vinyl sleeves, and the faint sweetness of condensed milk from the kitchen. The turntable still spun records from Parokya ni Edgar, Eraserheads, and sometimes The Cranberries when Mikha felt particularly nostalgic. Students still crowded the wooden tables in the evenings, scribbling homework while their Nokia phones vibrated occasionally with text messages that cost one peso each.
On the surface, everything remained exactly as it had always been but the people who visited often, especially the regulars who had watched Mikha Lim charm half the women in Cubao Expo, started noticing something unusual.
Mikha was… different. Just small changes. Quiet ones and strangely enough, those changes seemed to revolve around one person.
Aiah.
For years, Mikha had built her life around spontaneity. She came and went as she pleased. Closed the café early when she felt like it. Drove around Manila in her old silver Toyota Corolla blasting burned CDs someone had made for her, usually a chaotic mix of Sugarfree, Spongecola, and random OPM love songs she pretended not to care about.
She dated freely and flirted constantly. She never stayed long enough to let anyone expect more but recently, that rhythm had begun to shift.
It started with something small. Mikha stopped flirting with customers as much.
Not completely, old habits didn’t disappear overnight. But the teasing smiles and casual touches that once came so naturally began appearing less frequently.
At first the regulars assumed she simply had a new girlfriend somewhere because that was usually the pattern, but weeks passed then months. Still, no one new appeared beside Mikha’s usual stool behind the counter.
What’s even more surprising was that some of the girls she used to date began dropping by less often.
One of them was Patricia, the model who had once spent entire afternoons lounging across the counter while Mikha poured her iced coffee.
Patricia returned one evening wearing oversized sunglasses and a bright red halter top. She then slid onto a stool. “Mikha,” she said casually.
Mikha glanced up from the espresso machine. “Hey.”
Patricia tilted her head. “You’ve been ignoring my calls.”
“Have I?”
Patricia smirked. “You know you have.”
Mikha wiped her hands on a towel. “Sorry.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
Patricia studied her carefully then she leaned forward slightly. “So, what’s the deal?”
“What deal?”
“You usually replace people faster than this.” She pointed out the towel.
Mikha raised an eyebrow. “I’m taking a break.”
Patricia blinked. “A break?”
“Yeah.”
Patricia laughed. “That’s new.”
Across the café, Aiah was organizing cups. She didn’t look up but somehow Mikha felt her presence anyway.
Patricia followed Mikha’s gaze then her expression shifted. “Oh.”
Mikha frowned. “What?”
Patricia smirked knowingly. “So that’s what this is.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You’ve fallen for someone.” Patricia stood up, grabbing her bag.
Mikha scoffed. “I don’t fall.”
“Sure you don’t.” Then just like that, she left.
Mikha tried not to think about the conversation but Patricia’s words lingered longer than she liked because deep down, she wasn’t entirely sure they were wrong.
The truth was, Mikha had begun noticing changes in herself too. Not just in the way she interacted with other women but also the way she moved around Vinyl Brew.
She started arriving earlier in the mornings. Long before the café opened. Long before the first jeepneys filled Aurora Boulevard with their rattling engines. Sometimes she would unlock the door at six in the morning, stepping into the quiet café while the sky outside was still pale blue.
And without fully realizing why, she would start preparing things Aiah usually handled. Grinding beans, wiping down tables, even setting up the turntable with the records Aiah liked most.
One morning, Aiah arrived earlier than usual. She pushed open the door and stopped.
Mikha was standing on a small stool near the vinyl shelves, rearranging records.
Aiah blinked. “Ma’am Mikha?”
Mikha almost dropped the record she was holding. “You’re early.”
“Ikaw din.”
Mikha stepped down. “Couldn’t sleep.”
Aiah looked around the café. The tables were already wiped, the espresso machine cleaned and even the vinyl rack had been reorganized.
“Bakit nilinis mo lahat?”
Mikha shrugged. “Didn’t have anything else to do.”
Aiah smiled softly. “You didn’t have to.”
“I know.” But something about Aiah’s expression made Mikha look away because for the first time since this whole pursuit began, Aiah seemed… thoughtful like she was finally noticing Mikha.
-----
Weeks continued to pass like that. Mikha fixing things around the café without being asked, walking Aiah to the jeepney stop after closing, buying extra bread from the bakery down the street because she noticed Aiah sometimes skipped dinner.
None of these things were dramatic but they were new.
And Aiah noticed every single one.
One evening in October, Cubao Expo buzzed with unusual energy.
A small indie band had just finished playing at a nearby bar, and people flooded the alleyways laughing and talking loudly.
Inside Vinyl Brew, the café was nearly empty. Just Mikha, Aiah and the soft crackle of a vinyl record spinning on the turntable. Tonight it was “With a Smile” by Eraserheads.
Aiah stood by the counter folding small paper receipts.
Mikha watched her for a long time before speaking. “Aiah.”
Aiah looked up. “Hmm?”
Mikha hesitated then she said it. “Come out with me.”
The words hung quietly in the air between them. Different from the other times. Heavier. More serious.
Aiah noticed immediately. Her fingers paused on the paper she was folding. “Mikha…”
It was still rare to hear her say Mikha’s name like that. No Ma’am. Just Mikha.
“I mean it this time,” Mikha said.
Aiah studied her carefully. “Do you meant it before too?”
“Not like this.”
“What’s different?”
Mikha sighed quietly. “Everything.”
Aiah didn’t answer right away. She walked slowly toward the window, looking out at the lights of Cubao Expo flickering against the night.
When she spoke again, her voice was softer than usual. “You stopped seeing other people.”
Mikha blinked. “You noticed.”
“I notice things.”
Mikha chuckled quietly. “Clearly.”
Aiah turned back toward her. “Nagbabago ka na.”
Mikha shrugged. “Maybe.”
“Why?”
The question was simple but Mikha knew the answer wasn’t.
She looked at Aiah for a long moment before speaking. “Because you deserve better than the person I used to be.”
Silence filled the café.
Outside, someone shouted drunkenly down the alley. Inside, the vinyl record continued spinning.
Aiah stared at Mikha. Her expression was impossible to read. “You’re serious,” she said quietly.
“For once in my life,” Mikha replied.
Aiah exhaled slowly. “Naniniwala ako.”
Mikha’s heart skipped slightly.
But then Aiah added, “That’s what makes this harder.”
Mikha frowned. “What do you mean?”
Aiah looked down at her hands.“You’re not the problem.”
“Then what is?”
“My life.”
Mikha didn’t answer.
Aiah continued. “My father still can’t work. My brother just started college. My younger sister is graduating high school next year.” Her voice trembled slightly for the first time. “Every peso I earn goes to them.”
Mikha stepped closer. “Aiah—”
“I don’t have the luxury of choosing love right now.”
The words were gentle. But they landed like a stone.
Rejection Number Five.
This one hurt not because it was cruel but because it was honest, too honest.
Aiah looked at Mikha with the same warmth she always had. The same softness but there was sadness in her eyes now.
“Mahalaga ka na sa akin,” Aiah said quietly.
“Then why—”
“Because if I start something with you…” She swallowed. “I might choose you.”
The words made Mikha freeze.
“And I can’t afford to do that.”
Mikha’s chest felt unbearably heavy, not with anger, not with rejection, but with the painful realization that Aiah wanted her too.
And that was exactly why Aiah kept saying no.
Aiah grabbed her bag quietly. “I should go.” Her smile was polite but weak.
Mikha didn’t stop her. She couldn’t. All she could do was watch as Aiah walked out of Vinyl Brew and disappeared into the dim lights of Cubao Expo.
The café felt emptier than it ever had before. The record ended with a soft scratch. The needle clicked endlessly against the vinyl’s center and Mikha stood there in the quiet café, staring at the door.
She didn’t know if trying again would make things better or worse but one thing had become painfully clear.
She wasn’t chasing Aiah anymore out of curiosity or, stubbornness. She was chasing her because, somewhere along the way, Mikha Lim had fallen completely in love.
-----
The strangest thing about heartbreak, Mikha discovered, was that it did not arrive like the dramatic scenes in movies, no screaming matches, no glasses thrown across rooms. It arrived quietly.
Like a vinyl record reaching the end of its side, the music fading slowly until all that remained was the soft, repetitive tic… tic… tic of the needle spinning against empty grooves. That was how Vinyl Brew felt after Rejection Number Five.
Weeks passed.
Then a month.
Then another.
Something about Mikha changed so gradually that even she did not realize how much until people around her started reacting to it.
The first to notice were the regulars. The students who came in every afternoon to study. The musicians who argued over which Rivermaya album was the greatest. The collectors who flipped through vinyl crates like archaeologists searching for buried treasure.
They had known Mikha for years.
They knew her laughter, her teasing remarks and her habit of leaning over the counter just a little too close whenever a pretty girl walked in.
But lately, that version of Mikha had grown quieter, not sad, just… calmer, more focused and strangely steady.
Mikha stopped disappearing for entire nights the way she used to she stopped arriving late with the smell of cheap pale pilsen beer and cigarette smoke clinging to her clothes. She even started closing the café on time which shocked nearly everyone.
One evening, Kiara, the drummer Mikha had once dated, stopped by Vinyl Brew after a gig. She dropped her drumsticks onto the counter and grinned.
“Who are you,” Kiara asked dramatically, “and what have you done with the real Mikha Lim?”
Mikha rolled her eyes. “Very funny.”
“I’m serious,” Kiara continued, glancing around the café. “You’re acting like a responsible adult.”
“Don’t spread rumors.”
Mae leaned closer. “You haven’t dated anyone in months.”
Mikha shrugged. “Busy.”
“With what?”
Mikha gestured around the café. “This.”
Kiara followed her gaze. Her eyes eventually landed on the girl behind the espresso machine.
Aiah.
Kiara smirked. “Ah.”
Mikha sighed. “Don’t start.”
But Kiara simply laughed. “Too late.”
-----
You know, there is always another side of every story, and here’s the other side of it: If Mikha noticed the change in herself slowly, Aiah noticed it immediately because she had been watching Mikha long before Mikha started pursuing her.
The First Time Aiah Noticed Mikha
It had been nearly three years earlier, during Aiah’s first month working at Vinyl Brew.
Aiah had been nervous then as she’s still adjusting to Manila and learning how to move through the city’s chaos without feeling overwhelmed.
She remembered one particular afternoon when the café was full and she accidentally spilled an entire pitcher of iced coffee across the counter.
The customers had stared.
Aiah’s hands trembled while she grabbed paper towels. She expected Mikha to scold her or worse, laugh. Instead, Mikha simply walked over, grabbed another towel, and helped her clean.
“No big deal,” Mikha said casually.
“Sayang po-”
“We’ll make more.”
Aiah stared at her. “You’re not mad?”
Mikha shrugged. “It’s coffee, not a national disaster.” Then she winked. “Relax.”
That was the first time Aiah realized Mikha wasn’t the careless woman people described her as.
⸻
The Second Time Aiah Noticed
It happened late one evening when the café had already closed. Aiah was counting the register while Mikha fixed the turntable. The record playing was “Burn” by Nina ft. Christian Bautista.
Aiah had hummed along absentmindedly. She thought no one noticed but Mikha suddenly looked up.
“You sing.” Aiah blinked.
“No.”
“You just did.”
“I was humming.”
“You were singing.”
Aiah laughed nervously. “I’m not good.”
Mikha leaned back against the counter. “I think you are.”
The way she said it wasn’t flirtatious, it was sincere.
That moment lingered in Aiah’s mind longer than it should have.
----
The Third Time Aiah Noticed
It was a rainy morning and Aiah had arrived early for her shift, shivering slightly from the cold. Her umbrella had broken halfway through the walk from the jeepney stop.
Mikha saw her immediately. Without a word, she disappeared into the back room and when she returned, she tossed something toward Aiah.
A dry denim jacket.
“Wear it,” Mikha said.
“But it’s yours…”
“You’re freezing.”
Aiah hesitated.
Mikha rolled her eyes. “Just wear it.”
Aiah did though the jacket smelled faintly of coffee and cigarettes but for some reason, it made her feel oddly safe.
That was when Aiah started noticing Mikha in ways she hadn’t before. The small kindnesses. The way Mikha treated her employees like equals. The way she sometimes stared at the vinyl shelves like the records held secrets only she could hear.
And yes, it’s the way she flirted shamelessly with women. That part had made Aiah keep her distance.
Because even then, she already knew she liked Mikha more than she should.
----
The Moment Aiah Fell
It happened during a night Mikha didn’t even remember clearly. About a year before the first confession from rejection number five.
The café had closed early because of a citywide brownout. The entire block had gone dark except for the dim glow of candles inside Vinyl Brew.
Customers had left quickly. Only Mikha and Aiah remained. They sat on opposite sides of the counter while the rain poured outside.
Aiah had been worried because her younger sister had exams the next day, and she wanted to call home, but her Nokia phone suddenly stopped working early in that morning.
Mikha noticed. Without asking questions, she grabbed her car keys. “Come on.”
“Where are we going?”
“There’s a phone booth near Aurora Boulevard that still works during brownouts. Lowbatt ang akin.”
“Hindi na po siguro—”
“I insist.” She still drove Aiah there, waited in the car while Aiah made the call.
And when Aiah returned, Mikha handed her a warm taho she’d bought from a street vendor. That was the night Aiah realized something dangerous.
She had fallen for Mikha Lim long before Mikha ever started pursuing her.
----
Back in the present.
Three months after the fifth rejection, Aiah stood behind the counter of Vinyl Brew watching Mikha carefully.
Mikha was fixing a loose hinge on one of the vinyl shelves. Her sleeves were rolled up and hair slightly messy. There was a faint smudge of dust on her cheek.
Aiah smiled without realizing it.
Mikha noticed. “You’re staring.”
Aiah blinked. “I’m not.”
“You are.”
“I was just—”
“Admiring my handyman skills?”
Aiah laughed. “You’re tightening one screw.”
“It’s a very important screw.”
Aiah shook her head. “You’re ridiculous.” But her voice was warm.
Later that evening, after the café closed, Aiah lingered by the counter longer than usual, Mikha was cleaning the espresso machine.
“Aiah?” Mikha said without looking up.
“Yes?”
“You missed your jeepney.”
Aiah glanced at the clock. “Hala.”
“Do you want me to drive you?”
Aiah hesitated. For months, she had kept her distance. For months, Mikha had respected it but something inside Aiah had started shifting because the person standing in front of her now was not the same woman who had once dated half of Cubao Expo.
This Mikha was quieter, gentler and somehow, more dangerous to Aiah’s heart than ever before.
Aiah picked up her bag slowly then she looked at Mikha and for the first time in months, she didn’t say no.
“Okay,” Aiah said softly.
Mikha blinked. “Okay?”
“Ihatid mo ‘ko.”
It was not a date, not officially but as they stepped out of Vinyl Brew together into the warm Manila night, both of them felt the same quiet realization.
Something between them was finally beginning to change.
And neither of them knew yet… that the sixth attempt would arrive sooner than they expected.
------
By early 2004, Cubao Expo had settled into its strange rhythm of organized chaos.
New bars had opened beside the older ones. Graffiti had appeared along some of the alley walls, colorful and messy like someone had tried to paint music onto concrete. Students from nearby universities wandered the place with their Nokia 3310s, occasionally stopping to text under flickering streetlights.
Music drifted through the air almost constantly. Sometimes OPM, sometimes foreign songs that everyone still knew by heart.
Tucked along one of the quieter corners of that maze of small shops stood Vinyl Brew with its warm lights and coffee scent and vinyl records spinning slowly behind the counter.
To outsiders, it looked exactly the same as it had for years. But to the people inside, things had changed.
For one thing, Mikha Lim had become… dependable which was something no one in Cubao Expo had ever thought they would say. She arrived early most mornings, she handled suppliers and she even kept track of inventory now, something she used to leave entirely to Aiah.
It wasn’t a dramatic transformation.
Mikha was still sarcastic, still cool and still the same woman who leaned against the counter with that effortlessly confident posture but the reckless edge she once carried had softened.
And the person who noticed it most was…
Of course…
Aiah.
The ride home months earlier had become a quiet routine between them. After closing, Mikha would grab her keys.
“Jeepney or car?” she’d ask casually.
And Aiah would pretend to think about it for a moment before answering. “Car.”
They never called it a date. Neither of them dared but those short drives across Manila slowly became the most peaceful moments of Mikha’s day.
Sometimes they talked about music or about the café or about Aiah’s siblings back in Cebu. But more often, they simply drove in comfortable silence while Metro Manila passed around them in flashes of neon and headlights.
Mikha began memorizing those drives. She also memorized the way Aiah rested her elbow near the window, the way she hummed softly when songs played on the car radio, the way her laughter filled the small space whenever Mikha said something particularly ridiculous.
And every time Mikha dropped her off near the apartment she rented with two other girls, Aiah would smile and say the same thing.
“Goodnight, Mikha.”
Just Mikha. No Ma’am.
And somehow that still made Mikha’s chest feel warm.
----
The sixth attempt came on a Tuesday night. Completely unplanned and unexpected.
Which, ironically, was the most Mikha thing about it.
Vinyl Brew had been unusually busy that evening. A group of college students had discovered the vinyl section and were arguing loudly about whether Cutterpillow or Sticker Happy was the better Eraserheads album. Someone kept requesting Jolina Magdangal’s “Kapag Ako Ay Nagmahal”.
The espresso machine hissed constantly and Aiah moved around the café with her usual quiet efficiency.
By the time closing arrived, both of them were exhausted.
Mikha locked the door.
Aiah wiped the last table.
The turntable continued spinning quietly behind the counter. Tonight’s record was Sugarfree’s “Burnout.”
Neither of them spoke for a few minutes.
Then Mikha suddenly said, “Aiah.”
Aiah looked up. “Yes?”
Mikha hesitated.
And that alone surprised Aiah because Mikha Lim was rarely hesitant about anything.
Mikha leaned back against the counter, arms crossed loosely. “I want to try one more time.”
Aiah blinked. “One more time?”
“You know.”
Aiah stared at her. “You mean…”
“Yes.”
The café felt suddenly smaller. The quiet hum of the ceiling fan filled the space between them.
Aiah’s heart began beating faster because she had known this moment would come eventually. She just hadn’t expected it tonight.
Mikha looked down briefly at the floor before speaking again. “I know you said you can’t choose love right now.”
Aiah remained silent.
“And I understand why.” Mikha exhaled slowly. “I’m not asking you to change your priorities.”
Aiah’s fingers tightened around the towel she was holding.
Mikha continued. “I’m not asking you to choose me over your family.” She lifted her gaze again. “I’m asking if you’ll let me be part of your life anyway.”
Aiah’s chest tightened because those words were dangerously close to the ones she had secretly hoped for.
Mikha stepped closer as her voice softened. “You once told me you couldn’t afford distractions.”
Aiah nodded faintly. “Yes.”
“Well,” Mikha said quietly, “I don’t want to be a distraction.”
Aiah looked up.
Mikha smiled slightly. “I want to be the person who makes things easier for you.”
Silence followed. Long and heavy.
The vinyl record reached the end of its song. The needle scratched softly against the groove.
Aiah stared at Mikha. She saw the same woman who used to charm half the women in Cubao Expo and that same confident smile but she also saw something new now.
There was patience. There was sincerity.
Something deeper that Mikha had never allowed anyone else to see.
Vulnerability.
Aiah laughed suddenly.
Mikha blinked. “Well? That’s not the reaction I expected.”
Aiah shook her head. “You’re unbelievable.”
“I’ve been called worse.”
“You pursued me six times.”
“Technically five and a half.”
“Six.”
“Fine.”
Aiah sighed then she placed the towel down on the counter. “You really changed.”
Mikha shrugged. “Apparently.”
“Tumigil ka na magdate ng iba.”
“Correct.”
“Maaga ka na gumising ngayon.”
“That’s debatable.”
“You even learned how to fix the espresso machine.”
“Okay that one was impressive.”
Aiah smiled then her expression softened. “You did all that… for me.”
Mikha looked slightly embarrassed. “I am afraid, yes.”
Aiah felt something inside her chest finally loosen because the truth was, she had already fallen for Mikha long ago.
Back during that rainy night with the brownout. Back when Mikha bought her taho without making a big deal out of it. Back when Mikha handed her that denim jacket. Back when Mikha helped clean spilled coffee like it was nothing but she had buried those feelings under responsibility.
And now the person standing in front of her had proven something she never expected.
Mikha Lim could stay.
Aiah took a small step forward.
Mikha’s eyebrows lifted. “Aiah?”
Aiah looked up at her. “You’re very persistent.”
“I prefer the word determined.”
“Ang annoying mo.”
“I’ve heard that too.”
“And dramatic.”
“That’s just part of my charm.”
Aiah shook her head, smiling then she said quietly,
“Okay.”
Mikha blinked. “Okay?”
“Yes.”
“What does okay mean?”
Aiah laughed. “It means yes.”
Mikha stared at her. “You’re serious?”
“Yes.”
For a moment, Mikha didn’t move.
Which was extremely unusual for someone who had spent years flirting and kissing women without hesitation.
Aiah raised an eyebrow. “You’re not going to say anything?”
Mikha finally spoke. “I just want to make sure.”
“About what?”
“That this isn’t some elaborate joke.”
Aiah laughed. “Mikha.”
“Yes?”
“I’ve been in love with you for almost three years.”
That sentence completely broke Mikha’s brain. “You—what?!” Mikha, who was always composed, malfunctioned for a moment.
Aiah covered her face, embarrassed. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“No no no, wait.” Mikha stepped forward. “You’ve been in love with me for three years?”
Aiah groaned. “Kalimutan mo na sinabi ko ‘yon.”
“You rejected me five times!”
“I had responsibilities!”
“You could’ve mentioned the loving me part!”
“I was trying to be responsible!”
Mikha stared at her then suddenly she started laughing. Not her usual cocky chuckle, but full, uncontrollable laughter.
Aiah frowned. “What’s so funny now?”
“You.”
“Me?”
“You made me suffer for months or years.”
Aiah crossed her arms. “You deserved it.”
“Probably.” Mikha stepped forward.
They stood there laughing inside the quiet café while Sugarfree’s record continued spinning.
And eventually, the laughter faded leaving something softer behind.
Mikha looked at Aiah carefully. “So… what now?”
Aiah tilted her head. “Well.”
“Yes?”
“You can start by taking me on the date you’ve been asking for since 2002.”
Mikha grinned. “Deal.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow.”
After a while, Aiah picked up her bag then she paused. “Mikha?”
“Yes?”
“Ihahatid mo pa rin ako.”
“Of course.”
“Ikaw ang magbabayad ng dinner bukas.”
“Obviously.” Mikha smiled while blushing.
“And if you break my heart—”
“I won’t.”
Aiah smiled. “I know.”
-----
As they walked out of Vinyl Brew together, the lights of Cubao Expo flickered softly around them.
Music drifted from nearby bars and people laughed in the distance.
And somewhere behind them, the vinyl record inside the café reached the end of its side.
The needle lifted, ready to play something new.
-----
A Few Months Later
Vinyl Brew was packed with college students, regulars and musicians. Everyone seemed unusually entertained because behind the counter, Aiah stood beside Mikha.
And Mikha was currently being scolded.
“You’re distracting customers,” Aiah said firmly.
“I’m helping.”
“You’re flirting.”
“I’m flirting with my girlfriend.”
Aiah blushed. “You’re impossible.”
“Still your girlfriend.” Mikha pinched Aiah’s cheek gently
Aiah sighed. “Unfortunately.”
Mikha grinned. “Admit it.”
“Admit what?”
“You like it.”
Aiah tried to hide her smile but she failed.
Across the café, Kiara whispered to a regular. “See?”
“What?”
“I told you Mikha Lim would fall someday.”
The regular nodded. “Yeah.”
They both watched Mikha and Aiah bicker softly behind the counter.
“Just didn’t think it’d be the quiet barista.”
Kiara smirked. “Those are the dangerous ones.”
And behind the counter, while Kitchie Nadal’s songs are playing softly on the turntable, Mikha leaned closer to Aiah and whispered something that made her laugh again.
And just like that, the story of Vinyl Brew continued.
On a brand-new side of the record. 🎶☕