The car smelled faintly of leather, lavender, and the last trace of Aiah's mango-scented lotion from the last time she was in the passenger seat.
Neither of them said much as they pulled away from the curb. The silence wasn't awkward. It had grown familiar. Comfortable, even.
The kind of quiet that fills in the spaces where language feels too small.
The windows were slightly cracked. The city passed by—slow and soft now. Neon signs flickered half-heartedly. Jeepneys idled on corners. Stray dogs curled up on doorsteps. Manila, in its quietest form, still didn't rest.
Mikha kept one hand on the wheel, the other resting lightly on Aiah's bag between them.
Aiah, head tilted against the headrest, exhaled slowly. "You didn't have to wait."
"I know."
"But you did."
Mikha glanced at her, then back at the road. "I wanted to."
Aiah smiled faintly. "You're getting... soft, Attorney."
Mikha smirked. "Not soft, just helpful."
A soft beat of silence.
Then—
"You should stay at my place," Mikha said.
Aiah turned her head, blinking blearily. "Huh?"
"Tonight," Mikha said. "I mean. You're tired. And I have tomorrow off. It's quiet there. You could sleep in."
Aiah laughed—a low, lazy sound. "Mikhs, usually I'm DTF but right now? I'm like... down to flatline."
Mikha's head snapped toward her, scandalized. "Oh my god, Aiah, I didn't mean—" she shook her head, biting back a laugh. "Not like that. I meant—just to sleep. Like, actual unconscious rest. Pillows. Blankets. Minimal touching."
Aiah grinned. "Oh. Like sleep sleep."
"Yes. Sleep sleep."
"Mm. Kala ko ba no strings?"
"Wala namang strings. I'm just offering a comfortable bed."
"Hmmm" Aiah stretched her legs, groaning dramatically. "I'm one wrong turn away from collapsing on your floor."
"I'll carry you."
"You'll throw your back out."
Mikha chuckled under her breath. "Worth it."
Another pause. Softer now. The streetlights slid over Aiah's face like golden ribbons.
"Okay," she said quietly. "I'll stay."
Mikha didn't reply.
Just reached across the console, and without looking, laced their fingers together—gentle. Like it was the most natural thing in the world.
And in that car, at almost 4AM, with no music playing, no walls between them, no roles to perform—
Aiah squeezed her hand back.
Didn't say thank you.
Didn't say this feels like more.
Didn't say I'm scared.
But it was all there.
And Mikha felt it.
So she kept driving.
Not fast. Not slow.
Just steady.
Toward home.
/
The sun hadn't risen yet, but the sky had begun its slow transition—inky black softening into the faintest blue.
