In a world of blueprints, bold choices, and beautifully awkward timing, Aiah, a rising actress with a chaotic streak, meets Mikha, a brilliant but reserved structural engineer with a mind built on logic and routine. What begins as a professional encounter—centered around the renovation of Aiah's new home—unfolds into a story that defies labels and timelines.
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Aiah adjusted her oversized sunglasses as she stood in the middle of her bare, echoey living room, wearing biker shorts, an old UP Diliman hoodie, and fluffy slippers. The air was thick with the smell of cement and potential.
Her first property—finally. A quaint three-bedroom bungalow in Quezon City, tucked into a quiet, leafy street. It was charming, but a total mess. Half the walls were stripped. The kitchen sink was missing. The only functional thing in the whole house was the bathroom faucet, which sputtered like a dying fish.
And today was the first site meeting.
She heard the gate creak open and the unmistakable chatter of someone she recognized—Maloi, the architect-slash-friend from a bar event months ago. Aiah ran a hand through her hair and turned as the door opened.
"Aiah!" Maloi's voice rang through the space. "Hoy, sorry late ako—grabee 'yung traffic sa EDSA. Dinala ko na rin 'yung partner ko, si Mikha."
Partner?
Aiah blinked. Her eyebrows raised slightly as her brain did a little mental pivot.
Oh. Partner partner. She hadn't even realized Maloi was seeing someone.
She quickly flicked her eyes toward Mikha, suddenly a little more self-conscious. The girl standing behind Maloi had that understated, low-effort hot vibe—sharp, sleepy eyes, plain black shirt tucked into cargo pants, that no-fuss bun that just worked. She looked... intense. Mysterious.
Damn. Maloi pulled.
Then Mikha spoke.
"You smell like acetone and cinnamon."
Aiah blinked. "Huh?"
Mikha didn't flinch. "That's not an insult. I just noticed. It's strong. Possibly nail polish remover? And cinnamon... gum?"
Aiah looked down. She had, in fact, just done her nails. And she was chewing cinnamon Orbit. Still—
"...Okay, I feel like that's an oddly aggressive way to say hello," she said, half-laughing.
Maloi groaned and muttered under her breath. "Sorry na. Ganyan talaga 'yan."
But Aiah was already smiling, weirdly amused. There was something... offbeat about Mikha, but not in a bad way.
Mikha stared. "I wasn't being aggressive. Just observant. You're not offended, right?"
"No, I just wasn't expecting to be sniffed at on first contact."
"I didn't sniff," Mikha said, tone even and literal. "The smell was just strong enough to register without effort."
Aiah's brows rose, but not in judgment. In curiosity.
"...Cool." She tilted her head. "So what else do you notice?"
Mikha stepped closer. Too close, really. No warning. Just invaded Aiah's bubble like it didn't exist.
"You're right-handed. You favor your left leg slightly, maybe from a previous injury. There's lint on your left shoulder, and your roots are showing by—"
"Okay—okay!" Aiah laughed and held her hands up, backing up. "Medyo intense ka pala."
"I've been told that," Mikha replied, again, with no trace of irony.
