Anthologies {MIKHAIAH AU}

k part 3

Their story unfolded like snapshots in a photo album—moments frozen in time, stitched together with laughter, tears, arguments, and quiet reconciliations. Some days were beautiful, others messy, but every moment wove a stronger bond between Mikha and Aiah, layer by layer.

The words slipped out on a quiet Friday night. Mikha and Aiah were sprawled on Mikha's couch, the glow of the TV casting soft light across the room. Aiah was sketching lazily in her notebook, her head resting on Mikha's shoulder.

"Ang ganda niyan," Mikha murmured, pointing to the half-finished pencil drawing of a sunflower Aiah had been working on.

"It's just a doodle," Aiah said, her voice soft.

"No, it's... it's you," Mikha said, surprising herself. "The way you see things. You make everything feel... brighter."

Aiah turned her head to look at her, her hazel eyes searching. "Mikha, are you okay? Parang ang seryoso mo bigla."

"I love you," Mikha blurted out, the words tumbling out like they couldn't wait another second.

For a moment, Aiah just stared, wide-eyed. Then, a slow, radiant smile spread across her face. "You're so dramatic," she teased, her dimples deepening as she leaned closer. "But I love you too, Mikha."

Mikha grinned, her cheeks flushing. "Talaga?"

"Talaga," Aiah replied, kissing her softly. "But no more flowery speeches, okay?"

"No promises," Mikha said, laughing.

//

It wasn't always easy. One night, months later, they found themselves on opposite ends of Mikha's couch, the air thick with tension.

"Hindi mo kasi gets!" Aiah said, her voice rising. Her hair was pulled into a messy bun, and her hands were clenched into fists at her sides. "I'm not asking for grand gestures, Mikha. I just want you to listen. To really listen."

"I am listening!" Mikha shot back, her red hair falling into her face as she leaned forward. "Pero every time I try to fix something, parang mali pa rin lahat ng ginagawa ko."

"Because I don't need you to fix it," Aiah said, her voice breaking slightly. "I just need you to be there."

The words hung in the air, raw and heavy. Mikha opened her mouth, then closed it again, guilt flickering across her face.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly, the fight draining out of her. "I didn't mean to make you feel like you weren't enough. I just... I don't want to let you down."

"You're not letting me down," Aiah said, her voice softening. She reached out, her hand brushing against Mikha's. "But you don't always have to fix everything, Mikha. Sometimes, I just need you to sit with me. Kahit tahimik lang."

Mikha nodded, threading her fingers through Aiah's. "I'll do better."

"Me too," Aiah said, leaning against her. And just like that, the tension began to unravel, replaced by quiet understanding.

//

Not every moment was dramatic. Some were simple, unassuming, yet perfect in their ordinariness.

They spent lazy Sundays in Aiah's small studio apartment, the windows open to let the breeze in. Aiah would paint at her easel while Mikha lounged on the bed, scrolling through her phone or reading a book.

"Don't move," Aiah said one morning, her voice cutting through the quiet.

Mikha froze, looking up from her phone. "Bakit?"

"I want to sketch you like that," Aiah said, her eyes glowing as she studied Mikha's face. "The way the sunlight hits your hair—it's beautiful."

Mikha flushed, trying to mask her embarrassment. "Ang corny mo."