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The first time Mikha Lim walked into the university gym wearing loose black jeans, silver rings, and a varsity jacket slung over one shoulder, three girls forgot what they were doing.
Aiah Arceta stopped mid-sentence during a student council meeting.
Maloi Ricalde smeared blue paint across her own cheek instead of the canvas.
Stacey Sevilleja dropped a megaphone directly onto her foot.
And somehow, Mikha—better known around campus as Mikha—didn’t notice any of it.
She walked through campus like someone who belonged everywhere and nowhere at the same time. Cool without trying. Quiet, but never awkward. The kind of pretty that made people stare too long before looking away.
Most students knew her as the captain of the women’s football team. Some knew her as the girl who always helped freshmen carry boxes during enrollment week. Others knew her as the girl who looked intimidating until she smiled.
Because when Mikha smiled, she looked painfully soft.
Unfortunately for Aiah, Maloi, and Stacey, they all noticed that smile at the exact same time.
And that was the beginning of the problem.
—
“Why are you staring at her again?”
Aiah blinked and looked away from the library window. “I’m not.”
Her best friend raised an eyebrow. “You literally sighed.”
“I did not sigh.”
“You looked at her like she personally hung the moon.”
Aiah closed her laptop with more force than necessary.
Outside the library, Mikha was sitting under a tree with two freshmen from the football department. One of them looked upset, and Mikha was patiently helping him review notes.
That was the annoying part.
Aiah expected Mikha to be arrogant. Someone that attractive had no business being nice too.
But Mikha listened carefully when people talked. She remembered birthdays. She bought extra drinks for classmates because “someone might forget theirs.” She stayed late after sports practice to help janitors stack chairs.
It was unfair.
“Just ask her out,” her friend whispered.
Aiah nearly choked. “Absolutely not.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m the student council president.”
“That literally has nothing to do with dating.”
“It has everything to do with dating.”
But even as she argued, Aiah’s eyes drifted back to Mikha.
And Mikha, as if sensing it, looked up.
Their eyes met.
Mikha smiled softly and waved.
Aiah forgot how breathing worked.
—
Maloi knew she was doomed the moment Mikha wandered into the art building.
“Whoa,” Mikha murmured, staring at a mural in progress. “You made this?”
Maloi tried to answer casually.
Instead, she squeaked.
The embarrassment should have killed her instantly.
But Mikha only laughed gently.
“It’s really good,” she said. “Feels alive.”
Nobody had ever described Maloi’s art like that before.
Most people called her talented. Creative. Expressive.
But alive?
That stayed with her.
After that, Mikha started visiting the art room more often. Sometimes she sat quietly while Maloi painted. Sometimes she brought snacks for the club members.
One rainy evening, the power went out in the entire building.
The art club groaned dramatically.
“We’re doomed.”
“My painting was almost finished!”
Maloi sighed. “Okay, everyone relax—”
A flashlight flicked on.
Mikha stood near the doorway holding emergency lights she apparently borrowed from somewhere.
“I come prepared,” she said proudly.
The entire room cheered.
Maloi stared at her in the dim light, heart doing backflips.
God.
How was she supposed to survive this?
—
Stacey hated Mikha for the first two weeks.
Not genuinely, of course.
But enough to glare whenever people talked about her.
“She’s not even that cool,” Stacey muttered during cheerleading practice.
Her teammate stared at her.
“You literally follow her on Instagram.”
“That means nothing.”
“You liked all her photos.”
“That was accidental.”
“Every single one?”
Stacey tossed a pompom at her.
The truth was, Stacey hated how easily Mikha affected her.
Stacey was used to being the intimidating one. People got nervous around her. They tried to impress her.
But Mikha?
Mikha treated her normally.
The first real conversation they had happened after a basketball game.
Stacey was sitting alone outside the gym, ankle wrapped in bandages after a bad landing.
Most people avoided her when she looked irritated.
Mikha sat beside her anyway.
“You okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“That looked painful.”
Stacey shrugged.
A quiet moment passed.
Mikha held out a sports drink.
Stacey frowned. “For me?”
“You look dehydrated.”
“That’s your flirting technique?”
Mikha looked horrified. “What? No—I mean—”
Stacey burst out laughing.
And for the first time in weeks, Mikha saw Stacey smile without attitude attached to it.
It was beautiful.
Dangerously beautiful.
—
Campus became a battlefield after that.
Not openly.
None of them admitted their crushes out loud.
But people noticed things.
Aiah always reserved a seat for Mikha during student events.
Maloi painted Mikha suspiciously often.
Stacey suddenly started attending football games despite previously calling sports “sweaty performance art.”
Meanwhile, Mikha remained painfully oblivious.
Or maybe she just pretended to be.
—
One Friday night, the university held its annual Lantern Festival.
The campus glowed with hanging lights and paper lanterns swaying in the breeze.
Mikha arrived late after practice, hair slightly messy and jacket hanging open.
Three different girls spotted her instantly.
“Oh no,” Maloi whispered.
“This is bad,” Aiah muttered.
Stacey crossed her arms. “I saw her first.”
“You don’t own her,” Aiah replied calmly.
Stacey narrowed her eyes. “Wanna bet?”
Before the tension could escalate, Mikha approached them.
“Hey,” she said, smiling.
The three girls immediately acted normal.
Painfully normal.
Too normal.
Mikha blinked suspiciously.
“You guys okay?”
“Perfectly fine,” Aiah answered.
“Never better,” Maloi added.
Stacey nodded once. “Yep.”
Mikha looked unconvinced but let it go.
The festival continued with music, games, and performances.
Maloi performed first with the arts club, singing under warm lantern light while Mikha watched from the crowd with unmistakable admiration in her eyes.
Maloi nearly forgot the lyrics because of it.
Later, Aiah gave a speech thanking students and faculty for supporting campus organizations. Calm, elegant, intelligent.
Mikha clapped the loudest.
And when the cheer squad performed their final routine?
Stacey practically flew across the stage.
Every sharp movement somehow directed toward one specific girl in the audience.
Mikha looked thoroughly overwhelmed by the end of the night.
Which was fair.
Three beautiful girls crushing on you simultaneously sounded exhausting.
—
The real disaster happened two weeks later.
Someone started a rumor page online.
“Top 10 Campus Love Triangles.”
Guess who ranked number one.
Mikha nearly spit out her coffee upon seeing it.
“What the hell?”
Maloi looked ready to evaporate from embarrassment.
Stacey threatened violence immediately.
Aiah looked calm on the outside.
On the inside, she was planning legal action.
Unfortunately, the rumors spread fast.
Students whispered when they passed by.
“Who do you think Mikha likes?”
“I heard she walked Maloi home.”
“No, but Stacey posted her on her story.”
“What about Aiah?”
“It’s so obvious they have tension.”
Mikha hated every second of it.
Not because she disliked the girls.
Actually, that was the problem.
She liked them all.
Aiah made her feel steady.
Maloi made her feel warm.
Stacey made her feel alive.
And she had absolutely no idea what to do about it.
—
One evening, Mikha escaped to the rooftop of the engineering building to think.
Naturally, someone followed her.
“Thought I’d find you here.”
Aiah stepped onto the rooftop carrying two canned coffees.
Mikha accepted one gratefully.
“Thanks."
They stood beside each other quietly.
The city lights stretched endlessly beyond campus.
Finally, Aiah spoke.
“You know you don’t have to figure everything out immediately.”
Mikha laughed softly. “Am I that obvious?”
“You’ve been sighing for three days.”
“That bad?”
“A little.”
Mikha leaned against the railing.
“I don’t wanna hurt anyone.”
Aiah looked at her carefully.
“You’re kind,” she said quietly. “That’s why this is hard for you.”
Mikha stared down at her coffee.
“You deserve someone amazing, you know.”
Aiah smiled faintly. “That sounds suspiciously like rejection.”
Mikha panicked instantly. “Wait—no—I didn’t mean—”
Aiah laughed.
God, her laugh was beautiful.
“I’m kidding.”
But even while smiling, there was sadness in her eyes.
And Mikha noticed.
Of course she noticed.
Because despite acting cool all the time, Mikha paid attention to people she cared about.
Especially Aiah.
—
A few days later, Maloi dragged Mikha into the art room after class.
“Sit.”
“What?”
“Sit.”
Mikha obeyed immediately.
Maloi placed a canvas in front of her.
It was a painting of campus at sunset.
Warm gold skies. Lantern lights. Students laughing.
And near the center—
Mikha.
Not perfectly detailed.
Not overly dramatic.
Just… peaceful.
“You painted me?”
Maloi scratched the back of her neck nervously. “Maybe.”
“Loi…”
“I know it’s cheesy, okay? But whenever I paint you, things feel easier.”
Mikha’s chest tightened.
Maloi smiled shyly.
“You make people feel safe.”
Nobody had ever said that to Mikha before.
Not like that.
And suddenly, choosing became even harder.
—
Stacey cornered Mikha after cheer practice the next day.
“You’ve been avoiding me.”
“I have not.”
“You took the longer hallway route to class.”
“…Maybe.”
Stacey rolled her eyes.
Then her expression softened unexpectedly.
“You know,” she said quietly, “people think I’m mean because I don’t smile a lot.”
Mikha frowned. “I don’t think you’re mean.”
Stacey looked surprised.
“You don’t?”
“No.”
Stacey laughed softly. “You’re weird.”
“You like me anyway.”
The words slipped out accidentally.
Silence.
Then Stacey stepped closer.
“Yeah,” she admitted.
“I do.”
Mikha’s heart nearly exploded on the spot.
—
For the next week, Mikha spiraled.
Her teammates noticed immediately.
“You look emotionally constipated.”
“Thanks, Colet.”
“You’re welcome.”
Mikha groaned and buried her face into the table.
“How do people choose?”
Colet nearly dropped her drink.
“Oh my god. This is about the three girls.”
“Keep your voice down!”
“Campus already has betting pools.”
Mikha wanted to disappear forever.
“She’s smart,” Colet continued, counting fingers.
“She’s artistic. She’s hot and scary. Honestly, your life sounds like a Netflix series.”
“This is serious.”
Colet's expression softened slightly.
“Who makes you feel most like yourself?”
Mikha paused.
And suddenly—
She knew.
—
The university held one final event before midterms: the Founders Gala.
Everyone dressed formally.
The entire campus looked unreal.
Aiah wore an elegant navy dress that made students walk into walls.
Maloi looked like a literal painting in soft cream colors.
Stacey arrived in black and instantly caused at least five identity crises.
And Mikha?
Mikha showed up in a fitted black suit.
The entire venue lost its mind.
Throughout the night, Mikha danced with all three girls.
With Aiah, the dance was soft and comfortable.
With Maloi, it felt sweet and warm.
With Stacey, it felt electric.
But when the music slowed near the end of the night, Mikha finally made her decision.
She found Aiah standing alone near the balcony.
“Aiah.”
She turned.
And immediately understood.
Because Aiah was smart like that.
“You chose someone,” she said softly.
Mikha nodded once.
Aiah smiled sadly but sincerely. “Then go to her.”
Mikha hesitated. “Are you okay?”
“I will be.”
And somehow, that hurt more.
Aiah stepped forward and fixed Mikha’s crooked tie gently.
“She’s lucky, you know.”
Before Mikha could answer, Aiah walked back inside.
Graceful until the very end.
—
Maloi was near the stage helping clean up decorations when Mikha approached her.
“Loi.”
Maloi looked up hopefully.
And Mikha’s heart cracked a little.
Because hurting kind people felt awful.
“Mikha?”
“You deserve someone who looks at you the way you look at the world,” Mikha said quietly.
Maloi’s smile trembled slightly.
“Oh.”
“I’m sorry.”
Maloi laughed weakly. “I knew it wasn’t me.”
“Loi—”
“It’s okay.”
Tears shimmered in her eyes, but she still smiled.
“That’s the annoying thing about you,” she whispered. “You’re too lovable to hate.”
Then she hugged Mikha tightly before walking away.
Leaving Mikha standing there feeling both relieved and miserable.
—
She found Stacey outside the ballroom.
Of course she did.
Stacey leaned against the railing, city lights glowing behind her.
“You took forever,” Stacey said.
Mikha blinked. “You knew?”
Stacey smirked slightly. “Please. I’m gorgeous, not stupid.”
Mikha laughed helplessly.
Then Stacey's expression softened.
“But seriously,” she asked quietly, “did you choose me?”
There it was.
The vulnerability she hid from everyone else.
The softness underneath sharp edges.
Mikha stepped closer.
“Yes.”
Stacey stared at her for a moment like she couldn’t believe it.
“Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
Stacey let out a disbelieving laugh.
Then she grabbed Mikha by the collar and kissed her.
It wasn’t gentle.
It wasn’t careful.
It felt like fireworks and adrenaline and months of unresolved tension finally snapping apart.
When they pulled away, Mikha was breathless.
Stacey looked smug again.
“There,” she said proudly. “Now everyone on campus can suffer.”
Mikha burst out laughing.
And for the first time in weeks, everything felt simple again.
Stacey intertwined their fingers together.
“So,” she murmured, “you gonna walk your girlfriend home or what?”
Mikha smiled softly.
Sweetheart hidden beneath cool eyes.
“Yeah,” she said. “I’d like that.”