Anthologies {MIKHAIAH AU}

the mayor and the firestarter pt 2

Mikha stood in front of her full-length mirror, frowning at her reflection. She tugged at the hem of her black crop tank top, then zipped her varsity jacket halfway up, only to zip it back down again. Her bedroom floor was a graveyard of rejected tops—two button-ups that were too formal, a graphic tee that felt too casual, and a striped sweater she hadn't worn in years but had inexplicably tried on anyway.

"This is ridiculous," she muttered, running a hand through her hair, parting it in a way that felt deliberate but unintentional—her trademark look. "It's just dinner."

Her black wide-legged cargo jeans, paired with her trusty Doc Martens, were non-negotiable. Comfortable, cool, a little rebellious—the essence of Mikha Lim. Normally, that would be enough. Normally, she wouldn't even think about what she wore to meet someone from a dating app.

But this wasn't normal. This was Aiah.

And Aiah was... well, Aiah was hard to read. The woman had a quiet confidence about her, a sharpness in her messages that made Mikha feel like she was constantly being measured, sized up. Not that Mikha wasn't used to being judged—she usually thrived on it, loved the reactions her boldness could pull from people. But with Aiah, it was different.

Aiah seemed like the type who didn't hand out compliments easily, who wasn't impressed by flashy things or big gestures. She was the kind of person who probably noticed the little details—the scuff on Mikha's boots, the way her jacket hung off her shoulders, the fact that she'd changed her top twice for this stupid dinner.

Mikha grabbed her phone from the dresser, her thumb hovering over the screen. She'd thought about texting Jho for a quick pep talk but decided against it. The last thing she needed was her best friend screaming "Oh my God, you actually like this one!" loud enough to make her ears bleed.

She exhaled, checking the time. 6:35. The restaurant was only a fifteen-minute drive away, but she wanted to get there early. Not that she cared about making an impression. Of course not. She just... didn't want Aiah waiting around. That would be rude.

Grabbing her keys and helmet, Mikha glanced at the mirror one last time, forcing her usual smirk onto her lips. "You've got this," she told her reflection, her voice steady. "It's just dinner. No big deal."

But as she locked her apartment door and headed for her motorcycle, she couldn't shake the slight twist in her stomach. She wasn't nervous. Mikha Lim didn't do nerves. This was just... anticipation. Yeah. That was it.

Still, as she revved her bike and sped into the Manila evening, she caught herself wondering if Aiah would notice the effort.
/

Aiah stood in front of her bathroom mirror, tilting her head slightly as she swiped a subtle pink gloss across her lips. Her makeup was her usual—light foundation, a touch of highlighter, the barest flick of eyeliner that framed her brown eyes just right. It wasn't flashy, but it was the kind of look that made people stop and wonder how she managed to look so put-together without looking like she tried.

And that was exactly the point tonight.

Mikha didn't seem like the type who'd be easily impressed by big gestures or over-the-top glam. Mikha probably liked people who were confident, who didn't look like they were chasing her approval. And Aiah, with her usual calm control, wasn't about to give that away.

She leaned closer to the mirror, adjusting the strands of hair that framed her face, making sure they fell just right. Her long, brunette hair was swept into a loose half-up, half-down style, casual enough to look natural but structured enough to make it clear she cared—just not too much.

She stepped back, eyeing herself critically in the full-length mirror hanging on the back of her bedroom door. The high-waisted, wide-legged black trousers fit perfectly, elongating her already long legs. The tailored gray vest hugged her torso in just the right way, sharp but understated, leaving her arms bare and showing just enough collarbone to suggest that maybe she had thought about this meeting—just not too much. Simple black heels completed the look, subtle but elegant.