A/N: after thinking about it, I decided to write Mikha's side. Hope this gives a bit more insight to her character.
/
The car clock blinks 4:27 PM in angry red digits. The wedding ceremony started at four.
"Putangina naman," I mutter under my breath, gripping the steering wheel tighter as I swerve into the narrow road leading to the venue. Traffic had been hell, made worse by the fact that I stayed out too late the night before, numbing myself with cheap beer and even cheaper conversation. Anything to keep my mind off today.
It didn't work, obviously.
Cup of Joe's "Multo" plays low through my speakers, the soft, aching lyrics bleeding into the warm afternoon haze.
"Kahit na 'di mo na ako kailangan..."
My fingers tap nervously against the wheel. My heart pounds in my ears, louder than the song, louder than my own stupid logic telling me not to hope.
Hindi naman sigurado kung andoon siya, 'di ba?
But somehow, I know.
If there's anything constant about Colet and Maloi—our best friends since college—it's that they would never let a milestone pass without everyone being there.
Including her.
Including Aiah.
I take a shaky breath, rolling the window down slightly to let the sharp wind slap me awake. The dress shirt I'm wearing clings uncomfortably to my skin, and my stupid backwards cap feels almost too casual for the occasion, but fuck it—I wouldn't know how to dress differently if I tried.
The song shifts into the chorus—Ako'y multo na lang sa buhay mo...—and I laugh, bitter and tired.
A ghost.
That's all I am to her now. And all she is to me.
I should've stayed away. Should've found an excuse not to come, should've kept the promise I made to myself the night she finally told me to let her go.
But the thing about ghosts is that they always find a way back to the places they haunt.
And I've been haunting her ever since she walked away.
I finally pull into the lot, killing the engine. I sit there for a second, gripping the keys, willing myself to be better than I was. To not ruin this day for anyone—including her.
Kung makita mo siya, ngitian mo. Tapos alis ka na. 'Wag kang umasa. Tama na.
But when I step out of the car and head inside, when my eyes scan the crowd of familiar faces, they find her instantly—standing by the bar, her profile lit golden by the setting sun.
Aiah.
Still devastating. Still the most painfully beautiful thing I've ever seen.
I suck in a breath, my palms sweaty as I shove them into my pockets.
Hindi ka na niya iniisip.
I chant it to myself like a prayer.
And yet, here I am.
Drawn to her like gravity.
Even when I know I'm nothing but a shadow in her story now.
A multo.
I adjust my suit jacket, take a deep breath, and cross the room toward her anyway.
Because even ghosts get lonely sometimes.
