Anthologies {MIKHAIAH AU}

passenger seat pt 3

Mikha leaned back in her car, the hum of her engine filling the quiet of the parking lot. It had been a slow day—only three bookings so far—and yet she hadn't accepted another ride in over an hour. She told herself it was because she needed a break, but really, she was just... waiting.

For what, she couldn't admit, not even to herself.

It had been days since the night at The Back Room, and no matter how much Mikha tried to push it aside, her mind kept circling back to Aiah. She could still hear the warm cadence of her laugh, see the way her dimples appeared when she smiled, or how she'd casually leaned in close, her perfume and the faint smell of smoke lingering between them.

It was maddening.

Mikha had always prided herself on being logical, grounded, but with Aiah, she felt like she was spinning in circles. She didn't even know her, not really. Just a handful of moments, shared drinks, and one stolen cigarette. That was it. So why did she feel like she couldn't shake her?

Her phone sat in the cupholder, silent and still, just as it had been all week. No notifications, no texts, no sign of Aiah.

Mikha sighed, running a hand through her hair. Get a grip, Mikha. It was just a random night. Stop acting like a lovesick teenager.

But no matter how much she scolded herself, her brain betrayed her. She caught herself glancing at her phone more often than she cared to admit. She found herself driving slower around BGC, her eyes scanning the sidewalks and cafe patios, hoping for a glimpse of emerald green or the sharp tilt of Aiah's jawline.

It was ridiculous. She knew that. And yet...

Her friends had noticed, of course. They always did.

"You okay, Mikhs?" Gwen had asked over dinner the other night, her tone casual but her eyes sharp with curiosity.

"I'm fine," Mikha had said quickly, poking at her plate with her fork.

"You don't look fine," Colet chimed in, smirking. "You look like someone who's been haunted."

"Haunted by what?" Mikha asked, glaring.

"By someone, more like," Colet teased, nudging her arm.

"Guys, stop," Mikha had muttered, her voice sharper than she intended. "I'm just tired, okay?"

That had earned her a round of laughter. "Mikha, you're working half the hours you used to," Gwen said, grinning. "Tired from what? Driving?"

They didn't buy her excuses, of course, but Mikha had been too annoyed—and too embarrassed—to press the issue. Because the truth was, they were right. She wasn't tired. She was... distracted.

And the more days passed without a word from Aiah, the more Mikha began to wonder if she'd just imagined the connection they'd shared. Maybe to Aiah, it was just a fun night out with a stranger. Maybe Mikha had read too much into the lingering looks, the soft smiles, the teasing comments.

"God, you're pathetic," Mikha muttered to herself, grabbing her phone and opening the Grab app. She hovered over the "Contact Previous Passenger" button for longer than she cared to admit. Would it be weird? Definitely. Desperate? Probably.

She closed the app with a frustrated sigh, tossing her phone back into the cupholder. Get a grip, Mikha.

A few more days passed, and Mikha resigned herself to the idea that she wouldn't hear from Aiah again. She threw herself into her routine—driving passengers, spending nights in with her friends, trying not to linger too long in the places she thought Aiah might be.