Anthologies {MIKHAIAH AU}

fortnight pt 2

The rain slowed to a drizzle, soft and steady, as the car became a cocoon for the two of them. The glow from the dashboard cast faint shadows across Aiah's face, the streaks of her tears still visible but no longer falling. Mikha hadn't let go of her arm, and Aiah hadn't asked her to. They sat in that fragile silence, tethered together by something neither of them could fully name.

For the first time in weeks, Aiah looked... emptied. Not calm, but stripped of the storm she had been holding back for far too long. Mikha could feel the weight of her gaze every time Aiah glanced at her, like she was testing the limits of how far she could lean without breaking something between them.

"I should've known," Aiah said at last, her voice hoarse. Her fingers traced invisible patterns on the steering wheel. "James has been pulling away for months. Late nights at work, excuses about being too tired to talk. I just thought..." She shook her head, laughing bitterly. "I thought it was me. That I wasn't enough."

Mikha's grip tightened instinctively on Aiah's arm. "It's not you," she said firmly. "It's not. What he did has nothing to do with you not being enough."

Aiah turned to look at her, her eyes glassy but searching. "How do you know?" she whispered. "You don't even know us."

Mikha hesitated, but she didn't look away. "Because I've seen you. You're kind. You're thoughtful. And anyone who can't see that..." She faltered, the words catching in her throat. "Anyone who doesn't see how incredible you are doesn't deserve you."

The words hung between them, heavy and vulnerable. Aiah blinked, her lips parting as if she was about to respond, but then she closed her mouth, looking away.

"I don't even know what to do next," Aiah admitted after a long pause, her voice so quiet it was almost drowned out by the patter of rain. "Do I confront him? Do I forgive him? Do I just... let it all fall apart?"

Mikha wanted to tell her what to do, to give her a roadmap out of the wreckage of her marriage. But she couldn't. Because she didn't know what the right answer was, and because she knew this wasn't her decision to make.

"What do you want to do?" Mikha asked gently.

Aiah let out a shaky breath, her shoulders slumping further. "I don't know. I want to be angry, but I'm too tired to be. I want to scream at him, but I'm afraid he won't even care." Her voice broke, and she buried her face in her hands. "I just want it to stop hurting."

Mikha felt her heart clench at the sight of Aiah unraveling. Without thinking, she reached out, sliding her arm around Aiah's shoulders. Aiah tensed for a moment, but then she leaned into Mikha, letting out a shaky exhale as her head rested against Mikha's shoulder.

"It's going to hurt for a while," Mikha said softly, her voice steady despite the emotions swirling inside her. "But it won't always feel like this. You'll get through it, Aiah. I know you will."

Aiah didn't respond. She just stayed there, pressed against Mikha, her breathing slow but uneven. Mikha could feel the warmth of her cheek against her shoulder, the faint scent of rain and lavender lingering on her skin. It should've felt wrong—it did feel wrong—but Mikha didn't pull away.

For once, she allowed herself to just exist in the moment, without questioning what it meant or where it would lead.

The minutes stretched into an hour, and the rain tapered off completely. The clouds parted slightly, revealing the faint glow of the moon through the haze. Aiah eventually straightened, wiping at her face with the sleeves of her sweatshirt.

"Sorry," she murmured, her voice still thick with emotion. "I didn't mean to drag you into all this."

"You didn't drag me," Mikha said quietly. "I'm here because I want to be."