Anthologies {MIKHAIAH AU}

fortnight pt 1

The late summer air carried the scent of freshly cut grass and hydrangeas as Mikha Lim folded the last of the laundry on the porch. The sun was setting low, dipping behind the roofs of their quiet suburban cul-de-sac, painting the neighborhood in hues of gold and blush. It had been five years since Mikha and her wife, Julia, moved into their white bungalow with the cobalt blue shutters. Five years of routine. Five years of safety. And yet, for reasons she could not quite explain, the rhythm of their lives had begun to feel... off-key.

She caught sight of Julia watering the garden, her soft hums blending with the whirr of sprinklers. Mikha smiled faintly. Julia was everything solid and warm, the anchor that had held Mikha steady for years. But even love—safe, gentle love—couldn't quell the quiet restlessness that had been building inside her lately.

It was on that ordinary Tuesday afternoon that the moving truck pulled into the driveway of the house next door. Mikha stood by the kitchen window, wiping her hands on a towel as boxes and furniture were unloaded. Julia walked in behind her, carrying a basket of herbs she'd just clipped from their small garden.

"Bagong kapitbahay?" Julia asked, her curiosity piqued as she peered over Mikha's shoulder.

"Hmm," Mikha replied, barely looking up. Her eyes were fixed on a woman stepping out of the truck, a crate of books in her arms.

The woman—taller than Julia, with dark, sun-streaked hair pulled into a ponytail—moved with an almost effortless grace. She wore a loose button-up shirt with rolled sleeves and frayed jeans. Mikha couldn't put her finger on it, but there was something about her... something magnetic. She wasn't exactly smiling, but there was an openness in her posture, a quiet confidence.

"Uy, parang ang bait," Julia said cheerfully. "I should bake cookies or muffins—first impressions, diba?"

Mikha forced a smile, shaking off the strange pull in her chest. "Yeah. Sure. That's nice."

As Julia walked away, Mikha lingered by the window a moment longer. The woman passed a box to her husband, a tall, broad-shouldered man with an easy grin. He said something that made her chuckle softly, and Mikha caught the barest trace of a smile on her lips. Then the woman glanced over her shoulder, toward Mikha's house. For a moment, their eyes almost met—almost. Mikha turned away before it could happen, her heart thudding louder than she cared to admit.
/
They formally met three days later. Julia had decided on blueberry muffins and insisted Mikha come with her to deliver them. It was mid-morning, the kind of golden hour when the neighborhood seemed too perfect to be real. Mikha held the tray of muffins as Julia rang the doorbell, her usual cheerful energy practically spilling over.

The door swung open, and the husband appeared—James, he introduced himself. Mikha nodded politely, feeling Julia slip effortlessly into conversation. It wasn't until James called out, "Hon, may bisita tayo!" that Mikha saw her again.

The woman emerged from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dish towel. Up close, she was even more striking, her dark eyes sharp and observant, like she was used to reading between the lines of people's words. Her gaze shifted to Mikha, lingering for a beat too long. Mikha felt something catch in her throat.

"Hi," the woman said, her voice low and smooth, with a slight rasp that made it sound as if she didn't use it often. "I'm Aiah. Aiah Arceta."

Mikha swallowed hard, her lips parting to respond, but Julia beat her to it.

"Nice to meet you! Ako si Julia, and this is my wife, Mikha. Welcome to the neighborhood!" Julia beamed as she extended her hand.

Aiah's expression softened, her lips curving into a faint smile as she shook Julia's hand, then Mikha's. When their palms touched, Mikha felt a jolt of something—electric, visceral. Her breath caught, but she masked it with a small, polite smile. Aiah's hand lingered for half a second longer than necessary before she pulled away.