The drive to Mikha's apartment had been filled with an unspoken energy—charged, but somehow still easy. Aiah had teased Mikha about her music playlists ("Talaga, all-female rock bands? On-brand ka talaga, Mikha"), and Mikha had countered with a grin, tossing in the occasional comment that made Aiah blush and look out the window to hide her face.
Now, as Mikha opened the door to her apartment and flipped on the lights, she couldn't stop the smile spreading across her face. She stepped aside to let Aiah in, feeling a strange mix of pride and excitement at having her here—here, in her space.
"Welcome to my humble abode," Mikha said, gesturing grandly as Aiah stepped in.
The apartment was cozy, with an open-plan living room and kitchen. A soft couch sat against the wall, a stack of music books and guitar picks scattered across the coffee table. There were small touches of Mikha everywhere: a vintage record player in the corner, a guitar stand by the window, and a shelf crammed with books and vinyl albums. It wasn't spotless, but it was warm, lived-in, and undeniably her.
"It's nice," Aiah said softly, her fingers brushing against the edge of the couch as she looked around. "Very... you."
"Thank you, thank you," Mikha said, pretending to bow. She shrugged off her jacket and tossed it onto the couch before glancing at Aiah with a grin. "Also, I'd like to thank the universe for aligning everything perfectly tonight. My roommate Colet is away for the week. It's just us."
Aiah blinked at her, her cheeks instantly warming. "Oh."
Mikha smirked, stepping closer and leaning slightly against the armrest of the couch. "Why do you look so surprised? Are you worried I planned this?"
Aiah rolled her eyes, though her lips twitched into a smile. "Hindi naman. I'm just... thinking the universe has a funny sense of timing."
"Well, I'm not complaining," Mikha said, her tone softening as she gestured toward the hallway. "C'mon, I'll show you around. Not that there's much to see."
Aiah followed her as Mikha walked her through the small apartment, pointing out each room with casual ease.
"That's the kitchen, obviously," Mikha said, waving her hand toward the little corner with its mismatched appliances. "And here's the bathroom. Nothing exciting there unless you like vintage tiles that don't match."
Aiah chuckled, leaning slightly against the doorway. "Charming."
Mikha led her further down the hallway, gesturing toward a smaller room. "That's our so-called storage-slash-music-room. We mostly just pile stuff in there and pretend we'll clean it someday."
When they reached the last door at the end of the hallway, Mikha paused, her hand resting lightly on the doorknob as she glanced back at Aiah with a playful grin. "And this... is my room."
Aiah's breath caught, her cheeks instantly turning bright red. She tried to play it cool, but her nervous laugh gave her away. "Uh, okay. Wala ka bang skeletons hiding in there?"
"Not unless you count my high school diaries," Mikha said, pushing the door open.
The room was simple and personal, much like the rest of the apartment. A queen-sized bed with a dark gray comforter dominated the space, a small desk tucked into the corner beside a bookshelf overflowing with more vinyl and paperbacks. A guitar was propped against the wall beside the bed, and the faint scent of Mikha's perfume lingered in the air.
Aiah stood awkwardly in the doorway, trying not to look too closely at the bed. She felt like a love-struck teenager, not a 25-year-old single mom with a five-year-old at home. What was it about Mikha that made her feel this way—like her heart was about to leap out of her chest?
