Anthologies {MIKHAIAH AU}

passenger seat pt 2

Mikha leaned back in her seat, letting the low hum of jazz and the murmur of conversations swirl around her. The Back Room was as dim and opulent as she remembered it—a speakeasy with an old-world charm that tried too hard to feel authentic but somehow still worked. It had been months since she let her friends drag her out to a place like this. The drinks were overpriced, the crowd oozed with the kind of quiet affluence Mikha had distanced herself from, and yet, tonight, here she was.

Colet, Gwen, and Jhoanna were deep in conversation, talking about some client disaster that had dominated their workweek. Mikha half-listened, sipping on a whiskey sour, letting the sharp tang of citrus cut through the fuzz in her mind. This was their dynamic now—Mikha, the odd one out, quietly nodding along while her friends vented about the corporate grind she'd left behind.

She glanced around the room, her gaze drifting over the impeccably dressed patrons. A couple leaned into each other at a booth, sharing a private laugh. A cluster of men in suits gathered near the entrance, their conversation loud and confident. Then her eyes landed on the bar, and everything slowed.

There she was.

Aiah.

Mikha's breath hitched, and her hand froze mid-lift, the glass of whiskey hovering near her lips. Aiah stood at the bar, one elbow resting casually on the counter as she spoke to a man and a woman on either side of her. She was wearing a sleek, emerald green dress that hugged her figure just enough to be striking without being overt. Her dark hair was swept back, exposing her sharp collarbones, and her lips curled into a faint smile as she said something to the man beside her. But it wasn't just the sight of Aiah that made Mikha freeze—it was the look in her eyes.

Even from across the room, Mikha could see it. That same weight. That same exhaustion carefully hidden beneath layers of poise.

She felt her gaze linger too long, drawn in by something she couldn't quite name, and that's when Colet noticed.

"Uy, sino tinitingnan mo?" Colet asked, leaning closer, her eyebrows raised in curiosity.

Mikha snapped her head back, trying to play it cool. "Wala."

"'Wala,' my ass," Colet said, smirking. She followed Mikha's line of sight, her eyes narrowing as she scanned the bar. "Wait. Do you know her?"

Mikha hesitated, taking another sip of her drink to stall. "Not really. She's just... a Grab passenger. A couple of times."

Colet frowned, clearly not buying it. "You're staring at her like she's your long-lost love or something."

"Shut up, Col," Mikha muttered, though her cheeks flushed.

Gwen, now intrigued, leaned in as well. "Sino? Asan?"

Before Mikha could deflect, Jhoanna, who had been scrolling through her phone, looked up and followed the others' gazes. She squinted, her eyes locking on Aiah, and suddenly her jaw dropped.

"Oh my God!" Jhoanna gasped, clutching Colet's arm. "That's Aiah! That's my family friend!"

Mikha turned to her, startled. "What?"

"Yeah, her parents are friends with my parents. She's also friends with my cousin," Jhoanna said, her voice practically vibrating with excitement. "We've been to family gatherings together. I haven't seen her in years, though. Oh my God, small world!"

Mikha's stomach twisted. Of course, there was a connection. Manila was small like that, where everyone was only a few degrees removed from someone else. Still, hearing Jhoanna confirm her name, say it out loud like it was more than a fleeting thought in Mikha's mind, made it feel real in a way that unsettled her.