Flashback Chapter
TW: Panic and anxiety attacks
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Vegas had felt like a fairytale.
Cheap champagne in a penthouse they couldn't afford. Mikha laughing too loud at the blackjack table. Aiah dizzy from the way love and recklessness blurred into the same thing. They'd said fuck it to everything—responsibility, timing, logic.
They'd gotten married at 2 a.m. under neon lights, fingers intertwined, vows half-laughed and half-cried.
For a moment, it felt infinite.
But infinity doesn't survive rent.
⸻
It's been a long week.
A week of deadlines and stress and bills they haven't managed to pay because life keeps getting in the way. The apartment is too small for both their ambitions. Dishes stack in the sink. Laundry sits unfolded on the couch. The electricity bill reminder is taped to the fridge with a magnet from Vegas—What happens here, stays here.
Except it didn't.
Aiah is hunched over her laptop at the tiny kitchen table, hair tied up messily, glasses slipping down her nose. The glow of the screen reflects off tired eyes.
Mikha stands near the doorway, already dressed to go out—black jeans, leather jacket, restless energy radiating off her like heat.
"Come on, bub, it's just one party," Mikha says, walking closer, leaning over the table. "You can continue that tomorrow."
Aiah doesn't look up.
"Babi, I can't — I really need to finish this. I've already missed my deadline — I'm gonna fail this course."
"You won't."
The confidence in Mikha's voice is effortless. Blind. It used to feel comforting.
Now it feels careless.
"Mikha, I need you to be responsible for a minute," Aiah says, finally looking up. There's exhaustion behind her eyes. "Not everything can be solved by drinking."
The shift is immediate.
Mikha straightens.
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
Aiah feels it as soon as the words leave her mouth—the tightening in the room, the oxygen thinning. She knows this pattern. They've been here before.
Too many times lately.
"I didn't mean it like that," Aiah says quickly. "I just— we've been out four nights this week. We spent money we don't have. We can't keep pretending everything's fine when it's not."
Mikha scoffs, pacing now.
"So now I'm pretending? I'm the irresponsible one?"
"I didn't say that."
"You basically did."
Aiah closes her laptop slowly. This isn't about the party anymore. It never is.
"We're drowning, Mikha," she says quietly. "And you keep acting like we're just swimming."
Mikha laughs—but there's no humor in it.
"You're the one acting like the world's ending. It's one class. It's one bill. We'll figure it out like we always do."
"How?" Aiah snaps, standing now too. "By ignoring it? By going out and getting drunk until we forget?"
Mikha's jaw tightens.
