Mikha Lim wasn't difficult—she was decisive. Or at least that's what she told herself as she scrolled through yet another batch of soulless apartment listings. Each glossy photo felt like a personal insult: cramped spaces posing as "cozy," dimly lit kitchens labeled "rustic charm," and windows that stared directly into brick walls.
No. Absolutely not.
"No, Maloi—that apartment was terrible." Mikha ran her fingers through her dark hair, exasperation thick in her voice. "Kelangan ko ng new real estate agent. Grabe—walang taste yung current agent ko."
Across the café table, Maloi chuckled, stirring sugar into her iced coffee. "Mikha, ang picky mo. Kung sana I can say the same about your previous flings!"
"Hoy—that's out of line. I'm still technically your boss," Mikha warned, narrowing her eyes.
"And you're still technically my idiot best friend who can't seem to find an apartment to buy. Like seriously, how many places have you seen?" Maloi leaned back, smirking.
"Too many to count—none worth remembering." Mikha sighed, flipping through her inbox without real interest. "I'm wasting my time."
Maloi studied her for a moment. Mikha wasn't usually this worn down. Sure, she had her high standards—okay, impossibly high—but that never used to slow her down.
"Look, I wanna help. And maybe I can—I know a really good agent through Colet. But..." Maloi trailed off.
"But what?"
"But you cannot have that attitude, Mikhs! She's not gonna take your bullshit even though she's super nice."
Mikha raised an eyebrow. "What attitude?"
"That attitude. You know, you have a reputation in the real estate industry—they all think you're difficult to work with."
"I can't help that I have standards, Maloi. I'm not buying a cup of coffee here—it's a property."
Maloi rolled her eyes. "Okay, but please if I make this connection can you try to not be so much of a—how do I say this lovingly—a demanding asshole?"
Mikha placed a hand on her chest in mock offense. "Ouch, Ms. Ricalde, you almost actually hurt me there. Fine, who is this magical real estate agent anyway?"
"Aiah. Aiah Arceta."
The name hung in the air for a second, unfamiliar and unimpressive.
"And what, pray tell, makes Aiah Arceta so special?"
"She's not like the others you've dealt with. She doesn't just sell properties; she finds places that actually fit people. Plus, she's blunt but will charm off your socks. So don't try to scare her off."
"I don't scare people off. I just have high expectations."
"Yeah, yeah. Just...be cool, okay?"
Mikha wasn't expecting much when she agreed to meet this Aiah Arceta. Probably another overly perky agent with a rehearsed sales pitch and empty reassurances.
But when the elevator doors opened to the minimalist lobby of a boutique agency, Mikha's skepticism faltered. The space was sleek yet warm, modern but not soulless. And standing by the reception desk, casually scrolling through her phone, was a woman who couldn't have been further from the typical agent type.
Aiah Arceta was dressed in tailored slacks and a soft gray sweater, hair effortlessly pinned up, and no overdone makeup or forced smile. She looked...genuine.
"Mikha Lim?" Aiah asked, her tone calm but direct.
"That's me."
Aiah offered a firm handshake. "Aiah Arceta. Maloi mentioned you're looking for a place that actually meets your standards."
