Chapter Text
Mikha has suffered insomnia since she was a child. Her family calls it a phase. Doctors call it sleep disorder. But Aiah knows the truth, Mikha isn’t afraid of sleeping, this is not a phase. She’s afraid of being alone with her thoughts.
Simula pagkabata, there’s only been one thing that helps.
Aiah.
So, a tradition was born between them. Tuwing hindi makakatulog si Mikha, tatawag siya. And whenever the phone rings, Aiah comes.
Aiah doesn’t ask questions, she doesn’t complain, and definitely she doesn’t need an explanation. She just shows up at their door with sleepy eyes and messy hair. And somehow, ten or twenty minutes later, Mikha is asleep with her head resting on Aiah’s lap while Aiah gently runs her fingers through her hair.
Every single time.
The first time it happened, they were nine. Aiah was asleep when the telephone in her room rang. That phone was installed specifically so she and her best friend, Mikha could talk any time. So, when the ringtone shattered the silence of her room, Aiah sat up immediately.
Her heart was racing because the ringing startle her sleep. And also, because she knows it’s Mikha. Walang ibang tumatawag sa kanya sa phone na yun besides Mikha.
Aiah answered even before the second ring.
“Mikhs”
For a few seconds, there was only breathing. Then a tiny voice. “Are you still awake?”
Aiah blinked “No”
There was a pause and you can only hear their soft breathing.
“Sorry” Mikha said apologetically
“Mikha, bakit?”
Another pause, longer this time. “Hindi ako makatulog.”
The answer confused Aiah. That was it? Hindi naman to emergency, or a monster under her bed, not fever, dahil lang hindi siya makatulog?
“Close your eyes” Aiah said
“Tinry ko na.” Mikha countered
“Count sheep”
“Tinry ko na rin” Mikha said. Aiah can almost see her pouting.
“Drink milk”
“Ayoko ng milk”
Aiah frowned “Then what do you want me to do?”
The silence on the other end stretched so long that she thought the call had dropped.
"Pwede ka bang pumunta?"
Aiah glanced toward her door, her parents were asleep. Kahit pa they literally live just next to each other’s house the world outside was dark. Especially too dark for a nine-year-old. Any normal child would have said no. Any normal child would have gone back to sleep. Pero hindi si Aiah, instead, she got out of bed.
"Wait… come downstairs and open the door. I will run really really fast so be ready.”
The adults found them an hour later. Both girls asleep on the living room couch. Mikha's head resting on Aiah's shoulder. Aiah's cheek pressed against the top of Mikha's head. The television playing static.
Nobody knew exactly how it happened. How two little girls somehow decided that one would be responsible for the other's sleep but after that night, it became tradition.
Years passed, the calls never stopped.
—
At eleven years old:
"Hindi ako makatulog."
Aiah arrived carrying a stuffed bear.
"Ito.. yakapin mo."
"Ang pangit." Mikha says refusing the stuffed bear.
"You called me at two in the morning."
"...fair."
—
At thirteen:
"Hindi ako makatulog."
Aiah climbed through the Arceta-Lim backyard fence. They sat on the grass, looking at stars. Talking about nothing. An hour later Mikha was asleep against her shoulder.
—
At fifteen:
"Hindi ako makatulog."
Aiah ran through the rain, soaked from head to toe holding a paper bag above her head.
Mikha opened the door.
"What are you carrying?" She asked worried by how soaked her best friend is.
"Fries."
"Why?"
"You like fries." Aiah answered like it was the most obvious answer.
"You ran here in the rain for fries?"
Aiah shrugged. "You called."
As if that explained everything.
Maybe it did.
—
At seventeen:
“Hindi ako makatulog.”
Now they live in apartments few minutes apart. Yet, Aiah still showed up with headphones, A playlist, and enough patience to last until sunrise.
Nobody really noticed when it became permanent. When it stopped being a childhood habit and quietly settled into something far more certain, something that no one questioned anymore. At some point, it simply became a law of nature for the two of them.
Whenever Mikha couldn't sleep, she would call and Aiah would come.
It was as simple as that. No promises had ever been made, yet neither of them had ever needed one. Para sa kanila it was just the way the world worked.
—
Years passed, and somehow, nothing that truly mattered had changed.
The ringtone was different now. They no longer lived in the same neighborhood, or even in the same kind of homes they had once dreamed about as teenagers. Their schedules were fuller, their responsibilities heavier, and exhaustion had become something they carried every day without complaint.
Life had changed in all the expected ways. They grew older, busier, more capable. But the first person Mikha called when she couldn't sleep was still Aiah.
The only thing that had truly refused to stay the same were Aiah's feelings.
She hadn't noticed when affection had become longing, or when comfort had become something painfully close to hope. It happened so gradually that there was never a single moment she could point to and say, There. That's when everything changed.
It had simply happened while they were busy growing up. And of all the things time had altered, that was the one change Aiah wished had never come at all.
—
1:08 AM.
Aiah's phone vibrated against the wooden surface of her nightstand. She didn't bother opening her eyes, alam niya na agad kung sino ang tumatawag. The first ring came. Then the second. Before the third could sound, she reached for the phone and answered.
"Mikha."
Silence greeted her, followed by a familiar sigh that crackled softly through the speaker.
"How did you know it was me?"
Aiah smiled into the darkness. "You've called me at this exact hour before."
"Seriously?"
"Twice."
"That's creepy."
"It's creepier that I remember."
A quiet laugh escaped Mikha, still thick with sleep and exhaustion, and something in Aiah's chest loosened at the sound. She had heard that laugh in crowded dressing rooms, in the passenger seat during late-night drives, over video calls that lasted until sunrise. Somehow, it always managed to find her exactly where she was.
She suspected, with no small amount of horror, that she would follow that laugh anywhere.
"Hindi ako makatulog," Mikha murmured.
Of course she couldn't. Aiah was already sitting up before she realized she'd made the decision. She reached for the hoodie hanging beside her bed, slipped it on, and searched the floor for her shoes.
"Sa condo?" she asked.
"Yeah."
"I'm coming."
"Aiah—"
"I'm coming." She said with no room for debate.
There was no point pretending she had considered any other answer. Twenty-five minutes later, she was standing outside Mikha's door. A moment later, the front door opened, and there she saw an exhausted looking Mikha.
Her hair was a mess, like she'd spent the last hour running frustrated hands through it. She wore an oversized shirt that nearly swallowed her whole and hadn't bothered putting on slipper before opening her the door.
She looked tired and worn out yet above all she looked beautiful. Well she always looked pretty in Aiah's eyes if we are being honest. Aiah hated that her mind always arrived at that conclusion first. She hated that it had been her first thought for years now. Most of all, she hated how ordinary it had become.
"You look terrible," she said instead.
Mikha rolled her eyes with practiced ease. "Good evening to you too."
"You called me at almost two in the morning." She said rolling her eyes
"And yet you're here." She answered teasingly
Aiah looked away before her expression could betray her. "Obviously."
The word escaped without thought. Just like that too quickly and too easily. As though there had never been another possible outcome. Fortunately, Mikha didn't seem to notice. Aiah wasn't sure whether to be relieved or disappointed.
The condo was silent. Without asking, Aiah walked straight to one of the cabinets and pulled it open. Mikha leaned against the doorway, watching with an amused smile.
"You know where everything is."
Aiah glanced over her shoulder. "I've been coming here since you moved."
"That's fair."
She reached for two mugs, then the box of chamomile tea tucked behind the coffee, as if she'd never forgotten where it belonged.
"You remembered," Mikha said quietly.
Aiah looked up. "What?"
"The chamomile."
For a moment, Aiah didn't answer because, of course, she remembered.
Chamomile tea, no sugar and a little honey. A little more if it had been an especially difficult night.
She knew which cupboard the honey was kept in. She knew Mikha preferred the larger mug because it stayed warm longer. She knew she liked to wrap both hands around the cup before taking the first sip, as though borrowing warmth from it.
Aiah knew all of it. She knew far too much and somewhere along the years, those little observations had stopped being the ordinary details of a best friend's life and become something infinitely more dangerous.
They carried their mugs to the kitchen counter and settled into the familiar silence. Steam curled lazily into the air.
Outside, the neighborhood slept beneath a sky that hadn't yet decided whether it belonged to night or morning. Inside, the clock continued to tick, but neither of them seemed interested in following its pace.
"Bad night?" Aiah asked after a while.
Mikha shrugged, staring into her tea "Just thinking."
Aiah smiled faintly. "Dangerous."
"I know." Mikha laughed, soft and fleeting. It wasn't a loud laugh, or even a particularly happy one. It was the kind that disappeared almost as soon as it arrived but it was enough.
An hour later, they moved to the living room.
Mikha curled up on one end of the couch, a blanket draped over her legs, while Aiah settled on the other. A nature documentary played quietly on the television, its narrator explaining how the volcanic eruption under the sea helps the ecosystem to an audience that wasn't paying the slightest bit of attention.
"Read something."
Aiah looked up from her phone. "What?"
"Read something."
She laughed. "Like what?"
"I don't know. Anything."
Aiah unlocked her phone and opened the first article that appeared on her screen.
"Foxes can make over 40 different vocalizations.'"
Mikha turned to look at her. "That's fake."
"It isn't."
"No way."
Wordlessly, Aiah held out her phone, Mikha squinted at the screen, read the headline, then blinked.
"What the hell?"
Aiah couldn't help laughing. "There you are."
Mikha frowned. "Who?"
"The version of you that gets distracted enough to stop overthinking."
Something in Mikha's expression softened.
She knew what Aiah was doing. She had always known. None of it was accidental, not the chamomile tea, not the documentaries that required just enough attention to quiet a restless mind, not the strange facts Aiah collected simply because they were ridiculous enough to make Mikha argue with them, not the late-night drives with nowhere in particular to go, and definitely not the conversations that wandered until sunrise.
Over the years, Aiah had gathered these little remedies without ever realizing she was doing it. Small things that made sleepless nights easier to survive. Tiny comforts she kept tucked away until Mikha needed them.
She had become fluent in the language of it's okay, I'm here.
By the time the clock read 2:48, Mikha's eyelids had begun to droop. Aiah noticed before Mikha did.
"That's normal."
"It really isn't."
Mikha sighed with theatrical annoyance, but she shifted across the couch anyway until there was barely any space left between them.
Then, with the ease of someone following muscle memory, she rested her head in Aiah's lap. Neither of them thought twice about it. Why would they? They had been doing this for years.
Aiah looked down at Mikha, tracing her face with her gaze while mikha wasn't looking. Hindi niya alam kung paano i-eexplain kung anong nararamdaman niya but her heart is doing this out of patterned rhythm. Then Mikha decided to look up, staring at her directly. Aiah's heartbeat doubled.
For a heartbeat, neither of them spoke. The room was quiet except for the murmur of the television, and in that silence, there was something Aiah had spent years refusing to name. It settled between them like warmth from a nearby fire—comforting enough to linger besides, dangerous enough to step too close.
Then Mikha's eyes slipped shut. The moment dissolved as naturally as it had arrived. Almost without thinking, Aiah threaded her fingers into Mikha's hair, slowly back and forth. It helped her calm her heart as well.
She knew exactly how much pressure Mikha liked, where the tension gathered near her temples, how long it usually took before her breathing evened out. Some habits were learned, ohers were earned.
Mikha let out a quiet, contented sigh. It was such a small sound that most people would have missed it but not Aiah. Very few people ever saw this version of Mikha, the one who let herself be tired, who stopped pretending she was fine, who trusted someone else enough to simply... rest.
Aiah wondered, not for the first time, if she should be grateful for that trust or terrified by how much it meant to her.
Five minutes passed.
Then ten.
Then twenty.
Mikha's breathing had almost settled into sleep when she spoke again.
"Aiah?"
"Hm?"
"Thank you."
Aiah smiled to herself. There it was the phrase Mikha always said. The one Aiah never quite knew how to answer. Thank you felt too small for everything she wished she could say in return, and you're welcome somehow smaller still.
So she answered the way she always had. "Matulog ka na."
Sleep and rest, Let the night be gentle with you. A few moments later, Mikha did.
Her breathing grew slow and even. The tension she'd carried in her shoulders all evening finally disappeared, and the crease between her brows softened until it was gone altogether. Only then did Aiah let herself look at her, again.
Really look at the girl she'd known since they were children. The girl who instinctively reached for her whenever the world became too heavy. The girl who trusted her enough to fall asleep before dawn with her head in Aiah's lap.
The girl Aiah loves.
She had stopped wondering when it happened. Perhaps there had never been a single moment. Perhaps love had arrived so quietly that it had slipped into the ordinary, disguising itself as habit until it was impossible to tell where one ended and the other began.
Outside, the darkness was beginning to fade. The first pale hints of morning stretched across the sky, and soon the neighborhood would wake. The kettle would be put away. The television would be switched off. Mikha would open her eyes, smile at her as though nothing remarkable had happened, and the day would continue exactly as every other day had. Maybe she was right. Maybe there had been nothing remarkable about tonight at all.
Love, Aiah had learned, rarely announced itself in grand gestures. Sometimes it looked like remembering exactly how much honey someone liked in their tea. Sometimes it sounded like reading ridiculous facts about foxes until they laughed. Sometimes it was sitting awake until dawn so someone else didn't have to be alone. And sometimes it began with a phone vibrating at 1:08 in the morning.
"Hindi ako makatulog."
Almost absentmindedly, Aiah continued running her fingers through Mikha's hair, careful not to wake her.
"Sweet dreams, Mikhs," she whispered.
Mikha never heard the words but that had never been the point. Some things were said simply because they deserved to exist, even if only one person ever heard them. Even if it’s only Aiah who keeps hearing them.
—
Dinner after work was always loud for Aiah. Someone was stealing food off someone else’s plate. Stacey was halfway through telling an exaggerated story that got more ridiculous every time she reached the punchline. Gwen kept correcting her anyway, which only made everyone laugh harder. Colet was absentmindedly poking through the clutter spilling out of Aiah’s tote bag in search of tissues. Instead, she pulled out a power bank.
She frowned. Then reached in again, another one.
“…Aiah”
“Hmm?”
Colet held both of them up like an evidence in a crime investigation. “Bakit lagi kang may power bank? Sira ba battery ng phone mo?”
Aiah didn’t even lift her eyes from the bowl in front of her. She calmly scooped another spoonful of rice onto her plate. “Nasanay lang.”
“Girl.” Colet laughed. “Tatlo dala mo.” There was a genuine disbelief in her voice. She dug into the side pocket of the bag and triumphantly produced a third.
“Tatlo.” Sabay taas niya ng power bank
The table erupted.
“Nagbebenta ka ba?”
“Prepared si ante.”
Gwen leaned forward to inspect the collection spread across the table. “Para kang emergency responder.”
Aiah only shrugged, reaching over to retrieve them one by one.“They’re useful.”
“Useful?” Colet echoed. “Isa lang kailangan ng tao.”
“Dalawa” Gwen corrected thoughtfully
“Tatlo?” Stacey snorted “Ate, ano ka, mobile charging station?”
Aiah laughed softly, slipping the power banks back into their familiar places without a second thought. One into the inner pocket of her bag, one into the pocket of her jacket draped over the chair, and the last one tucked away again, as naturally as breathing. She never had to think about where they belonged anymore. Her hands already knew.
Stacey watched the routine with narrowed eyes before grinning mischievously.
“Wait” Everyone looked at her. She pointed dramatically across the table. “Emergency contact ka ba ni Mikha?”
The girls burst into laughter. It sounded harmless just another joke. The kind friends made when two people spent too much time together. Aiah laughed too, just a little too quickly. Just enough to make sure no one noticed the tiny pause beforehand.
“OA” She shook her head, smiling into her drink. “Bahala kayo.”
The conversation drifted somewhere else almost immediately. Someone brought up work, someone else complained about the air conditioning in the studio. The moment disappeared and no one thought about the power banks again.
Except Aiah because Stacey wasn’t entirely wrong. She wasn’t Mikha’s emergency contact. Not officially because no forms had ever been signed, no paperwork listed her name but whenever something went wrong, whenever the silence became too heavy, whenever sleep refused to come, whenever the night stretched too long—the phone always found her.
At home, she unpacked automatically. Wallet onto the dresser, keys into the ceramic bowl by the door, one power bank plugged into the wall, the second beside it, and the third stayed in her bag. Always.
She checked her phone.
Battery: 100%
Satisfied, she set it on the nightstand. Then, reconsidered, she picked it back up, plugged it into the charger anyway, and left the screen facing upward.
Just in case.
—
At 2:15 in the morning, the room lit up.
Mikha Calling…
The ringtone only played once. Aiah was already awake or maybe she had never really been asleep. She answered before the second ring
“Hello?”
There was nothing, just breathing like how it is every time. “…can’t sleep?” Aiah asked gently
A quiet hum answered her. It was enough for Aiah. She settled deeper against her pillow, eyes still half-closed.
“Okay.”
Just like that no questions, no why or what happened. She just knew. The battery icon at the top of her screen read 87%. More than enough because Aiah never let it fall below ninety before bed. Well not anymore. Not after the third late-night call months ago. After the first time her phone had dipped into the red while Mikha was still talking.
She had bought the first power bank the next day. The second a week later. The third because she realized one could be forgotten. Three meant there was always one nearby. Always one charged and always one ready.
No one asked her to do it, Mikha certainly hadn’t. She probably didn’t even know about it but somewhere along the way, Aiah had quietly rearranged tiny pieces of her life around a single possibility.
Mikha might not be able to sleep tonight.
So, she made sure her phone never died. Just in case.
The power banks were never for work, never for busy schedules. They were for a girl who only ever called after midnight. For a conversation that might last five minutes or three hours.
For the chance that, somewhere in the middle of another restless night, her name would appear on Mikha’s screen and when it did, Aiah wanted to be there. Every single time.
—
People noticed the little things long before they noticed the big ones. The way someone ordered the same meal every time. The way they pressed their one ear when they were nervous. The way their coffee order changed without explanation.
For years, Aiah had never gone a day without coffee. It was as much a part of her routine as work and early call times. An iced americano in the afternoon. Sometimes another cup after if they had been especially long. The girls used to tease her about it.
“Si Ate Aiah caffeine ang nagpapatakbo”
“Babaeng kape na yan” Maloi joked
She never argued because it was true. Then, quietly she stopped. One day she ordered tea instead. Then, again the next day. Then, the day after that.
Weeks passed before anyone finally noticed. They were sitting in a café after a meeting, waiting for their drinks to be called. The rich scent of roasted beans filled the room, wrapping itself around every conversation.
Jho glanced at the paper cup in Aiah’s hands.
She blinked then looked again. “Akala ko coffee addict ka?”
Aiah looked down at the steaming team she’d been absentmindedly stirring for the last minute.
“Oh” A small smile “Trying to sleep better kasi”
Jho nodded as if that explained everything “Fair”
She took another sip of her own latte before launching into a story about something that happened during meeting. The conversation moved on like it always did. No one thought twice about it because it was a perfectly reasonalble explanation.
It sounded reasonable, sleep better, healthier habits, and less caffeine. Sensible and true, just not in the way everyone assumed. The truth was embarrassingly simple. Coffee didn’t just keep Aiah awake, it kept her asleep.
If she drank it too late, exhaustion always caught up with her around midnight. She’d crash hard, the kind of deep dreamless sleep that swallowed everything, alarms, messages, and calls.
The first time it happened, she’s woken at six in the morning to three missed calls. All from Mikha.
She still remembered the hollow feeling in her chest as she stared at the screen. By the time she’d called back, Mikha had answered with her usual laugh.
“Uy, busy ka.”
Mikha did not complain, did not mention how she’d ended up falling asleep alone, did not made her feel any guilt. They talked anyway, like always. But afterward, Aiah had stood in line at a convenience store, stared at the refrigerated shelves of bottled coffee, and walked past them without picking one up. She hadn’t had coffee after dinner since. She’d tale anything else, warm water or tea. Anything that let her sleep lightly enough for the smallest vibration on her nightstand to pull her awake.
It was almost funny. She gave up one thing that kept her awake… so she could wake up faster.
That night at 1:55 am, her phone buzzed once against the wooden nightstand. Before the screen had even fully lit up, Aiah’s eyes were already open.
—
Aiah’s planner looked exactly the way everyone expected it to. Color-coded tabs, sticky notes peeking from the edge, and entire weeks packed into impossibly neat handwriting. There was comfort in its order. Meetings, brand shoots, editing, lunch with friends and family birthdays circled in light blue. The kind of planner that belonged to someone who always seemed to have her life together.
They were waiting backstage when Mikha picked it up from the chair beside Aiah.
“For an iPad kid you still use a paper planner?”
Mikha flipped through the pages with idle curiosity. “You write everything!”
“kailangan ko eh”
“I’d lose mine in two days” Mikha said shaking her head
Aiah laughed “Muntik ko na mawala one time”
The pages fluttered beneath Mikha’s thumb then she stopped. Scattered across different weeks were tiny red stars. No pattern just here and there. Small enough to miss if you weren’t looking.
“Ano tong mga to?”
Aiah looked up. Her smile disappeared for the briefest moment. “What?”
“These.” Mikha pointed at one of the stars. “The red little stars”
Aiah’s fingers tightened ever so lightly around the pen she was holding.
“Oh” She let out a quiet laugh “Wala lang”
Mikha frowned “No, seriously.” She flipped another page “marami pang iba”
Another star. Then another.
“They have to mean something”
Aiah reached for the planner almost instinctively before stopping herself halfway. Baka masyadong obvious, masyadong defensive.
“They’re…”
The word lingered. She searched for something that sounded casual, something believable because the truth had already climbed halfway up her throat.
So I know if you’ll call…
“Para alam ko kung pwede akong tumanggap ng late work.”
The sentence almost escaped good thing she caught it just in time. “So I know when I can rest.”
Mikha looked back down at the planner
“Oh” she nodded once “That actually makes sense.”
“Yeah.” Another smile, smaller this time. “I need reminders.”
Mikha closed the planner and handed it back without another thought
“You’re so organized.”
“I try.”
The conversation ended there. Just another ordinary exchange, another tiny mystery explained without revealing everything, just the surface level. Another moment that slipped quietly into the day.
Later that evening, Aiah opened the planner again. Her thumb rested on the red star marking tonight. She traced it absentmindedly before closing the cover.
The stars had never meant rest. If anything, they meant the opposite. A red star meant she hadn’t agreed to an early morning shoot, no dawn call time, no meetings before noon and nothing she couldn’t afford to be tired for. It meant that if the phone rang at two in the morning… She wouldn’t have to glance at the clock, wouldn’t have to calculate how many hours of sleep she's lose, or wouldn’t have to end the conversation because tomorrow demanded too much of her. A red star meant only one thing.
If Mikha calls tonight… I can stay until morning.
Months ago, she’d started marking them without realizing why. Now she couldn’t imagine planning her weeks any other way. The stars weren’t reminders of when she could rest. They were scattered across the calendar, promises that, if another sleepless night came for Mikha, Aiah would already have made a room for it.
—
Rain had a way of chamging the shape of a night. It softened the conversations, stretched silences, made leaving feel unnecessary.
By the time work ended, the streets were already shimmering beneath sheets of rain. The windows rattled gently every few minutes as another wave hit the glass. They’re still at the studio, rain held them hostage.
“Let’s just wait it out,” someone had suggested, so they did.
The others eventually drifted home whenever the rain eased enough to make a run for their cars. Aiah and Mikha stayed. Neither of them seemed in much of a hurry. They talked about everything and nothing. A new song someone couldn’t stop humming. A video Colet had sent to the group chat. The stray cat that had started lingering outside the studio. The kind of conversation that watered without needing a destination.
Eventually, the words slowed. The television played quietly in the background, forgotten. The rain became the loudest thing in the room. Somewhere between yawn and another, sleep arrived without asking permission.
The first hint of dawn peeked through the curtains around five. The rain had softened into a gentle drizzle. Mikha stirred in her sleep. She was only half awake, still wrapped in the strange, floating feeling where dreams hadn’t quite let go. Something warm rested over her shoulders. She smiled even before she opened her eyes realizing someone had put a blanket in her. She knew it was Aiah and no one else.
“Aiah…” Her voice was barely louder than the rain but no one answered.
She blinked herself awake and pushed herself upright. The couch beside her was empty. For a second she wondered if Aiah had gone to make coffee. Then she spotted her all curled awkwardly into the armchair across the room. One arm tucked beneath her cheek, her knees drawn close to her chest. Trying even in sleep, to make herself smaller.
Mikha’s eyes drifted back to the blanket wrapped around her. Recognition came quietly, this wasn’t one of the studio blankets. It was hers. The faded gray one she always kept folded in her car because she got cold so easily.
She looked back at Aiah, nothing covered her not even a jacket. The room wasn’t freezing, but the lingering dampness from the rain had settled into the walls, leaving the early morning air cool enough to raise goosebumps. Aiah’s shoulders were slightly hunched. Even asleep she looked cold.
Mikha frowned “…Idiot” The word came out so softly it almost sounded affectionate.
She stood as carefully as she could, trying not to make the floor creak. The blanket slipped from her shoulders as she crossed the room. For a moment she simply looked at Aiah. Her breathing was slow and peaceful. The loose strands of hair that had escaped her ponytail framed her face. She looked younger somehow and gentler.
Without thinking too hard about it, Mikha lifted the blanket and draped it over her. Carefully tucking the edge around her shoulder, the way someone had probably done for her countless times. Aiah didn’t stir which made Mikha smiled to herself.
“There” she said with a proud smile
Satisfied, she went back to the couch. She intended to stay awake just for a few minutes, just until the rain stopped. Instead, the warmth lingering in the room pulled her under again almost instantly. When the sun finally broke through the clouds a few hours later, sunrise spilled across the floor.
Mikha blinked against the light. Something soft rested over her, the blanket. She pulled it closer without thinking. Across the room, Aiah was just waking up in the armchair, stretching one arm over her head as though she’d slept comfortably all night.
“Gising ka na?” She asked, her voice still rough with sleep.
Mikha nodded, rubbing her eyes “Hmm”
“You slept like a rock.” Aiah said laughing
“So did you” Mikha countered
“I guess.” Aiah said softly because she did. Like it was the most comfortable sleep she ever had in a while.
Neither of them mentioned the blanket. Neither of them noticed the quiet exchange that had happened between one dawn and the next because sometime after Mikha had tucked the blanket around Aiah’s shoulders…
Aiah had opened her eyes just enough to see Mikha asleep again on the couch. Just enough to notice her curled up into herself against the morning chill. She smiled, stood up without making a sound. Lifted the blanket and covered Mikha once again.
Then returned to the armchair, wrapping her own arms around herself instead. By the time either of them was fully aware, the evidence was gone.
The gesture had erased itself like a firefly blinking once in the darkness before disappearing. It had existed and it had mattered but no one had seen it.
—
Mikha stole Aiah’s phone the way she stole most things from her without warning, without permission, and with the easy confidence of someone who had never once been told no, especially by Aiah.
“Uy,” Aiah protested, reaching after her. “Akin nay an Mikhs”
“Nope” Mikha grinned, already unlocking the screen. “Wala bang bagong music?”
She settled beside Aiah on the couch, thumb lazily scrolling through Spotify while Aiah leaned closer than usual, trying and failing to look uninterested. Most of the playlists were familiar. The same artist, the same albums, and the same songs Aiah played on repeat whenever she was studying or cleaning.
Then Mikha paused. “Hmmm”
A playlist sat quietly between the others. No cover photo, no title, just a blank playlist with one hundred forty-three downloaded songs.
“What’s this?”
“Oh”
For the first time since stealing the phone, Mikha felt Aiah move with actual urgency. Aiah reached for it too quickly.
“Wala yan” Clearly it is something
That alone was enough to make Mikha suspicious. She tilted the phone just out of reach with teasing smile.
“Kung wala lang yan bakit ayaw mong ipakita?”
“Mikha—”
Too late, Mikha pressed play but instead of music, soft rain filled the room. Gentle drops against a distant window. A few seconds later, a slow piano melody drifted underneath before fading into the rhythmic hush of ocean waves. Th next track was white noise, then a crackling campfire. Wind chimes swaying in an invisible breeze. Forest ambiance alive with birds and rustling leaves. After that came a podcast with soothing voice speaking at barely more than a whisper. Then a bedtime story, another, and another.
Mikha blinked “…what even is this?” She glanced sideways.
Aiah was scratching the back of her neck, avoiding eye contact in the particular way she always did when she felt embarrassingly exposed. “I made it” She paused
“For?” Mikha asked. Silence settled between them for a heartbeat.
“…for sleeping.”
Mikha’s expression softened into an amused smile.
“Cute” she laughed lightly, already moving on to the next track.
She didn’t know, she couldn’t have known that every single song, or rather, every sound had been chosen because of something she’d said without her realizing someone was listening.
“Mas mabilis akong antukin kapag may ulan”
So Aiah had search through dozens of recordings until she found rain that sounded soft enough.
“Ayoko nung may lyrics”
So she skipped every song with vocals, keeping only melodies gentle enough to disappear into the background.
“Parang gusto kong may nagkukuwento.”
So she spent an entire evening comparing narrators until she found voices warm enough to lull someone to sleep.
One hundred forty-three track. One hundred forty-three tiny memories, collected one causal comment at a time. Downloaded so they would always be available, even without internet.
Baka sakali.
Baka lang.
Mikha smiled at the playlist for all of three seconds before tapping to the next trac, completely unaware that she was listening to proof of how carefully someone had memorized her. She remembered none of ever saying those things yet Aiah had remembered every single one.
—
The pharmacy was unusually quiet that afternoon. Only the hum of the air conditioner and the occasional squeak of shopping carts filled the aisles as customers wandered between neatly stocked shelves.
Aiah stood in front of the sleep aid section, studying the rows of products with quiet concentration. After a moment, she reached for a box of chamomile tea. Then, a small bottle of lavender essential oil. A container of melatonin gummies. An eye mas and a reusable heat pack. One by one, they disappeared into the shopping basket hanging from her arm.
“So totoo nga.”
A familiar voice drifted from behind. Aiah turned just in time to see Colet rounding the end of the aisle, carrying nothing more than toothpaste and shampoo.
“Oh.” Aiah said with a small smile “Hi”
Colet’s eyes dropped to the basket almost immediately. “Anong binibili mo?”
Aiah glanced down as though she hadn’t really noticed the collection herself. “Just stuff.”
Colet leaned in, reading each item one by one. “Chamomile tea, lavender oil, melatonin, eye mask, heat pack?” She frowned “May insomnia ka?”
Aiah blinked twice, then laughed. The sound came easily. “Wala”
“eh para saan yan”
For the first time, Aiah hesitated but not long enough to seem suspicious. Just long enough for something unspoken to pass behind her eyes. Then she adjusted the basket against her hip.
“…just in case.”
Colet looked at her for another second. The n nodded as if the answer made perfect sense.
“Ah”
The conversation drifted naturally after that. A few comments about work, weather, and a promise to eat at a new ramen restaurant, soon. Nothing unusual.
By the time they reached the cashier they went their separate ways. Aiah offered one last wave before disappearing toward the exit, the paper bag swinging lightly at side. Colet stayed where she was. Her eyes lingered on the automatic doors long after they had closed. Then she looked down at the sleep aids still lining the shelves.
“…That’s not for her.”
She’d known Aiah for years long enough to recognize the difference between buying something for yourself and buying something because someone else might need it someday. Aiah didn’t even drink tea that often. She never mentioned trouble sleeping, she’d never complained about restless nights or exhaustion. If anything, she was usually the one reminding everyone else to get enough rest. The items hadn’t been chosen for someone with insomnia. They’d been chosen by someone trying to prepare for it.
Just in case.
Colet thought back to the times Aiah quietly lowered the volume whenever Mikha looked sleepy. To the extra pillow that somehow always appeared when they traveled. To the blanket that was already folded on the couch before anyone asked for it. To the way Aiah always seemed to know exactly what would make Mikha comfortable before Mikha realized she wanted it herself.
None of those moments had meant anything on their own but together… Together they formed a pattern. A pattern so ordinary that it had been hidden in plain sight.
Colet wasn’t the first to notice it. She suddenly realized the others had probably seen pieces of it too. Not because Aiah had ever confessed anything. She never would but because they’d spent years watching her quietly anticipate one person’s needs with the kind of attention that couldn’t be explained away forever.
Only one person remained completely oblivious. Ironically, it was the person Aiah had been paying attention all along.
—
Aiah’s birthday had never really been about her. If anyone pointed that out, she’d laugh and deny it, insisting she liked things simple anyway. Still, the apartment was warm with life that evening. The dining table disappeared beneath takeout containers, half-empty soda bottles, paper plates, and a birthday cake that had already begun leaning to one side after too many photographs.
Someone had connected a speaker and someone else insisted on party games. The room filled with overlapping conversations, laughter loud enough to drown out the music, and the familiar chaos that only existed when all of them were together.
For a while, it felt like time had stopped. Mikha, however, looked like she was fighting sleep. She tried to hide every yawn behind the back of her hand, but it became impossible after the fifth one.
Aiah noticed before anyone else did. “Tulog ka na”
Mikha rubbed at one eye and nodded sheepishly “Oo nga. I’m exhausted” She stood, stretching carefully.
“I’ll go na,” Her smile softened as she looked at Aiah. “Happy birthday ulit.”
Before anyone could tease her for leaving so early, she stepped forward and wrapped Aiah in a quick hug. It lasted only a second. Long enough for Aiah to return it just as gently.
“Drive safe… and text me” Aiah murmured
“I will”
Then Mikha was gone, the door clicked shut behind her. The party continued, someone suggested another round of games. Someone else cut the remaining cake into smaller slices. Music played, people laughed, and time slipped forward.
Then exactly at 1:43 in the morning, Aiah’s phone vibrated against the table.
Mikha
No message, just a call. Aiah answered almost immediately.
“…Hello?”
The others couldn’t hear what was being said. They only watched as something in Aiah’s expression softened.
“Okay,” she said quietly. “I’m coming”
She slipped her phone into her pocket and stood. “I’ll be back”
No one questioned it. She grabbed her keys from the counter, offered an apologetic smile, and disappeared out of the front door.
Thirty minutes passed.
“Traffic?” Gwen guessed.
Forty-five.
Stacey joked that maybe Aiah had stopped for coffee.
An hour.
The jokes faded. Stacey wandered toward the window, pulling the curtain aside just enough to peek outside. The parking space beneath the streetlight sat empty and Aiah’s car was gone.
Stacey let the curtain fall. “…Oh”
No one asked where she’d gone, somehow, they already knew. Morning sunlight spilled across the apartment windows when the door finally opened again. Aiah stepped inside balancing several bags of breakfast in her arms. She smiled as though nothing unusual had happened.
“Sorry,” she said “I brought food”
The room slowly quieted, she was still wearing yesterday’s clothes. The same jeans, the same sweater, and her hair had fallen loose from its clip sometime during the night. She looked tired yet something in her also looked like she’s okay.
Jho accepted one of the coffee cups from her before speaking. Her voice was gentle.
“You left your own birthday party”
Aiah blinked, as if she hadn’t thought about it that way. Then she simply smiled.
“Mikha couldn’t sleep”
That was all, no explanation or apology. As though those four words answered everything. Silence settled over the room because no one knew what to say. What response was there to give anyway?
Dapat hindi ka umalis?
But Aiah would have. Every single time.
Pwede mo naman sana siyang tanggihan.
She never would. Looking back, they all realized the same thing at once. It had never mattered what day it was. Not birthdays, not holidays, and not even anniversaries. If Mikha called in the middle of the night because she couldn't sleep, Aiah would go. Without hesitation, without resentment and definitely without ever making Mikha feel guilty for asking. It wasn't sacrifice in Aiah's eyes. It wasn't obligation, or inconvenience. It was something she accepted with quiet gratitude.
Because hidden beneath every late-night drive and every interrupted celebration was a truth Aiah had never spoken aloud. Mikha had chosen to call her, out of everyone she could have reached for in the middle of the night...
She reached for Aiah.
It doesn’t matter if it’s just because she couldn’t sleep, or only because she needed someone familiar until morning. It didn't matter. For Aiah, that was enough. And somehow... That hurt the most. Not because she loved too much but because she considered being needed even accidentally, even temporarily, to be the best birthday gift she could receive.
—
The afternoon settled gently over the city. The apartment was quieter than usual. Everyone else had gone out for groceries or coffee, leaving behind only the distant hum of the refrigerator and the lazy rhythm of rain tapping against the windows.
Aiah sat alone on the balcony. A mug of tea rested untouched in her hands. She wasn't looking at anything in particular. Just watching the rain blur the world into soft shapes.
The balcony door slid open.
"Nagtatago ka ba?"
Aiah glanced over her shoulder and smiled.
"A little."
Gwen stepped outside, carrying her own cup, and leaned against the railing beside her. For a while, neither of them spoke. They had always been comfortable with silence. It wasn't something they needed to fill, the rain did that for them. After a long moment, Gwen spoke without looking at her.
"Alam mo..." Gwen paused
Aiah hummed softly. "Hm?"
Gwen watched the water gather along the edge of the roof before it finally spilled over.
"You're gonna break your own heart."
The words landed between them as gently as the rain. No accusation or judgment, just quiet certainty from a friend. Aiah didn't laugh, she didn't ask what Gwen meant, she simply lowered her eyes to the mug warming her hands because she already knew.
Gwen let another silence pass then she continued. "One day..."
Aiah nodded faintly. "Mhm."
"...she's gonna sleep."
Aiah looked up, confused. "What?"
Gwen finally turned toward her. "Darating ang araw na hindi ka na niya kailangang tawagan."
Everything became still even the rain seemed farther away. Aiah stared at her without speaking.
Gwen's voice remained soft. "So you'll stop driving across the city at two in the morning." She paused, "You won't need to keep spare tea in your pantry."
"You won't have to carry melatonin in your bag."
"There won't be any more playlists."
"No more late-night drives."
"No more sitting on the floor beside her bed until she finally closes her eyes."
Each sentence was spoken so gently. So carefully as though Gwen wished they weren't true.
"You'll get exactly what you've been wishing for."
Aiah's fingers tightened around the mug.
Gwen looked back toward the rain. "And you'll be happy…Because she's finally okay."
Aiah closed her eyes. For a brief second, she could picture it perfectly. Mikha sleeping peacefully, none of those restless sighs, or lonely calls in the middle of the night.
Just... rest. It was everything Aiah had ever wanted for her.
Gwen's voice almost disappeared beneath the rain. "But you'll also lose the only place where you're allowed to love her."
Something inside Aiah gave way quietly. Like a thread that had been pulled too tightly for far too long. She lowered her head, a tear slipped free before she even realized she was crying. Then another tear before she covered her eyes with one hand, embarrassed by the suddenness of it. She wasn’t sobbing or shaking just silent tears that refused to stop.
Gwen didn't move. She didn't offer comforting words. She knew there weren't any because this grief wasn't born from rejection. Mikha had never rejected her. It wasn't born from hopelessness either.
Aiah had never expected anything in return. It came from something far crueler. The knowledge that love, sometimes disappears not because it fails...but because it succeeds.
Every midnight call had given Aiah a place, a reason, an excuse to show up at Mikha's door with sleepy eyes and warm drinks. Just to sit beside her until dawn, to smooth back her hair when another sleepless night became too heavy, to love her in all the small, ordinary ways that friendship could still explain.
She had never needed a confession. Never needed promises. Never needed to hear I love you.
As long as Mikha whispered, "Hindi ako makatulog,"
Aiah could answer, "I'm on my way."
That had always been enough but one day... If everything went the way Aiah prayed it would...
The phone would stay silent not because something was wrong but because, for the first time, everything was finally right. Mikha would fall asleep on her own, she would wake up rested, and the nights would stop hurting.
And Aiah...
Aiah would smile, she would tell everyone how happy she was. She would mean every word, then she would go home to an apartment that no longer echoed with late-night ringtones. No headlights cutting through empty streets. No more quiet drives beneath sleeping cities. No familiar doorway waiting for her. Only peaceful nights, the very miracle she had spent years hoping for. And in that miracle...There would no longer be a place for her.
Gwen reached over then, resting a quiet hand on Aiah's shoulder. Neither of them spoke again. Outside, the rain continued to fall.
Somewhere beyond the gray sky, hidden behind clouds neither of them could see...Fireflies would still be searching for windows. Carrying their tiny lights through the darkness asking for nothing in return except the chance to guide someone safely through the night.
And perhaps that had always been what love looked like. Not being chosen at sunrise but becoming, for a little while, the light someone needed before they could finally sleep.