Three weeks into this thing—this relationship, Mikha could say it now without flinching—she still found herself trying to name what had changed.
It wasn't that she had never been in a relationship before. She had. Twice. One serious. The rest forgettable.
But this?
This wasn't something she could file under "romantic engagement" or "emotional connection" and call it a day. This was... soft mornings in Aiah's bed. Half-asleep kisses with toothpaste still in their mouths. Texts that weren't just functional, but full of Aiah's chaotic, teasing, typo-laced affection. It was laughter during breakfast and skin pressed together at night. It was presence.
And for Mikha, whose world had always been systems and structure, who functioned by reading patterns and people and adjusting accordingly, this new thing was unlike anything she had designed before.
Because it didn't require adjusting.
It required being.
⸻
They were at another site visit today.
Mikha stood near the edge of the unfinished veranda, hands on her hips, eyes scanning the new wood slats being installed along the overhead beams. The slope of the patio roof was perfect. She had recalculated it twice, of course. Even with weather exposure factored in, it would hold. It would last.
She heard laughter behind her and glanced back.
Aiah was walking in with Jhoanna, both in casual wear—sunglasses on their heads, coffee in hand, and the energy of two women who knew they were magnetic and didn't care who noticed.
"Good morning, mga diyosa," Maloi muttered under her breath beside Mikha, watching them approach. "Grabe, parang may sariling lighting si Aiah kahit cloudy."
Mikha huffed a breath through her nose.
Not a scoff. Almost a laugh.
Maloi turned to her, eyes narrowing in mock horror. "Oh my god. Mikha Lim. Did you just... smile?"
"I didn't," Mikha said.
"You did!" Maloi grinned. "Tangina. You're soft now. This is your soft girl era."
Mikha kept her face neutral, but her ears betrayed her—just a little pink.
Aiah walked over, holding out a second drink. "Iced Americano, two shots, no sugar. I remembered."
Mikha blinked. Took the cup. "I didn't tell you I needed coffee."
"You didn't have to." Aiah smirked, then turned to look up at the wood panels. "God, this is so satisfying. I feel like I manifested this entire house just so I could stand here and say, 'wow, what a view.'"
"It is a good view," Mikha murmured, eyes still on Aiah.
Jhoanna raised an eyebrow from behind her sunglasses.
Maloi noticed too.
"Oh my god," she said under her breath, clearly delighted. "You're in it. Mikhs, you're whipped. I've never seen you like this."
Mikha didn't deny it.
She just looked back up at the beams.
"I'm just... building something I want to last."
The weight of that statement hung there for a beat. Maloi blinked. Jhoanna tilted her head, curiosity flaring. Aiah, meanwhile, turned to her with a look that said I heard that, and I'm not letting it go.
⸻
The rest of the site visit went smoothly—Aiah asked a few questions (mostly about finishes, sometimes about where her coffee bar would go), Mikha answered in her usual precise way, and the energy was light. Easy.
