Anthologies {MIKHAIAH AU}

lego house pt 1

The classroom was bathed in the soft yellow light of fluorescents, the faint buzz of chatter rising and falling as parents milled about between tiny desks. The walls were covered in crayon-colored drawings and construction-paper collages labeled in careful six-year-old handwriting. Aiah Arceta entered with a signature bounce in her step, her brown hair pulled into a sleek ponytail that swung with her movements. She was dressed in a deep maroon silk shirt that popped against her olive skin, a tailored pair of cream trousers, and her smile was as bright and natural as the posters on the wall declaring "Dream Big!" and "Be Kind!".

Mikha Lim was already there, leaning casually against one of the child-sized desks, her fire-red hair tied up in a messy knot, one hand tucked into the pocket of her leather jacket, the other scrolling on her phone. She looked like she'd been dragged out of an underground music gig and dropped straight into a room full of PTA parents in sensible shoes. For a moment, Aiah hesitated in the doorway, her cheerful energy faltering.

Mikha noticed her almost immediately—she always did, even when they were strangers in crowded rooms. She looked up, her mouth quirking into something halfway between a smirk and a smile. "You're late."

"I had a meeting run over," Aiah said, brushing it off, though her tone carried an edge of defensiveness. She stepped into the room and joined Mikha near Janna's desk, carefully navigating around the miniature chairs. "You're early. That's... new."

"Janna told me it was at six. I didn't realize she meant you would show up at six-thirty," Mikha replied, her voice casual, though her eyes flicked over Aiah as if assessing her, as if the two years since their divorce hadn't fully trained her out of the habit of noticing every little thing.

"Well," Aiah said with a tight smile, "I'm here now." She glanced at the desk where Mikha had been leaning. Janna's name was written in bright purple marker on a laminated tag. Next to it was one of Janna's drawings—a carefully outlined, neon-colored family portrait. There was no mistaking it: Aiah and Mikha stood side by side, holding hands, with Janna beaming between them.

Mikha followed her gaze and chuckled, a low sound that was part amusement, part discomfort. "She's got a good imagination, huh?"

"Yeah," Aiah replied softly. "She does."

For a moment, they stood in silence, the hum of other conversations filling the air. Two years wasn't long enough to forget how to be in each other's orbit, but it was long enough to make it feel foreign.

Aiah gestured to the drawing, her smile softening. "She's definitely got your artistic streak."

"And your overachiever tendencies," Mikha shot back, her smirk deepening. "Look at all those gold stars on her board over there. Kid's a straight-A machine already."

They both glanced at the "Star Students" chart on the wall, and for a brief second, their shared pride bridged the gap between them. It was fleeting, but it was there.

"So," Aiah said, breaking the moment, "how's work? Still making pop stars out of people who can barely hold a note?"

"Still paying my bills with it," Mikha replied, arching an eyebrow. "And you? Still selling people on dreams they don't need?"

"Someone's gotta do it," Aiah said with a shrug, though her grin betrayed her amusement. It felt familiar—too familiar—and she stepped back, putting some space between them.

Before Mikha could respond, a cheerful voice cut through the room. "Mama! Mommy!"

Janna darted over, her bob bouncing as she ran straight into Aiah's arms, then turned to Mikha for a quick hug. She smelled like crayons and strawberry shampoo. "Did you see my desk? And my drawing?" she asked, her excitement bubbling over.