Coffee?
The days that followed the initial meeting were relentless. Mikha had barely left the office, juggling meetings, refining their proposal, and coordinating with her team. Every revision felt like a necessary improvement, yet a nagging part of her wondered if it would ever be enough—not just to win, but to outsmart Aiah.
Since their first face-off, Aiah had lingered in her thoughts like an unsolved puzzle. Mikha told herself it was purely strategic—understanding the competition, analyzing weaknesses. But she couldn't deny the thrill of their clashes, the way her pulse quickened whenever they sparred with words.
That morning, Mikha gathered her team—Maloi, Stacey, and Sheena—at Terra Firma's conference room. The walls were lined with sleek, minimalist designs that reflected the company's no-nonsense approach.
“Okay, we need to go through our approach for the community center,” Mikha began, her voice steady. “I reviewed Verda Co.’s preliminary plans, and they’re heavy on aesthetics but light on functionality. If we emphasize sustainability and long-term efficiency, we can—”
“Uh, Mikha?” Maloi interjected hesitantly. “I think need mong makita 'to.”
Maloi pushed her tablet across the table, and Mikha’s eyes widened. It was a social media post from Verda Co.—a video featuring Aiah enthusiastically discussing their proposal's “holistic” approach. Her energy was palpable, drawing in comments and engagement.
The comments:
Ang ganda ng concept niyo, Ms. Aiah!
Verda Co. knows how to balance sustainability and creativity!
Can’t wait to see this in action!
Mikha’s fingers tightened around the edge of the table. The post was gaining traction—more eyes on Verda Co., more public interest.
Gosh. Nakakainis.
“This is what I was talking about,” Stacey muttered. “Verda Co. knows how to appeal to people, even outside the boardroom.”
“We should do a media push, too,” Sheena suggested. “Highlight our practical solutions and how they benefit the community long-term.”
Mikha nodded slowly, her mind racing. She hated that Aiah had gotten ahead, but the last thing she’d do was concede.
“Let’s prepare a statement,” Mikha decided. “We'll focus on the lasting impact of our design—the sustainability metrics, the efficiency. If Verda Co. wants a popularity contest, ipakita natin kung ano ang value ng solid results.”
///
Two days before the final presentation, the project committee organized a joint session between Terra Firma and Verda Co. to ensure collaboration on overlapping ideas. The air buzzed with tension as both teams assembled in the spacious meeting hall.
Mikha entered first with her team, composed and prepared. The Terra Firma group took their seats, exuding a calm, businesslike atmosphere. Moments later, Verda Co. arrived, Aiah leading the way. Her stride was confident, her grin bright.
“Looks like we’re all set,” Aiah greeted with a playful lilt. “Ready for a little compromise, Terra Firma?”
Mikha's eyes narrowed subtly. “We’re ready to find the most effective solution. If that means compromise, so be it.”
Aiah’s smirk deepened, a glimmer of amusement dancing in her eyes. “Well, let’s see if efficiency can play nicely with creativity.”
The facilitators began the session, urging both teams to present their designs for the community center. Mikha led Terra Firma’s presentation, her tone poised and confident. She detailed the practical applications—the use of renewable energy, modular designs for easy maintenance, and efficient waste management systems. Her points were precise, supported by data.
Aiah followed, discussing Verda Co.’s vision—a vibrant, communal space designed to nurture creativity and social connections. The focus was on green spaces that blended with the urban environment, a design that invited exploration. It was visually captivating, imaginative, and ambitious.
When both presentations concluded, the facilitators opened the floor for discussion. It didn’t take long for tension to seep through.
“This centralized design might attract traffic and overcrowding,” Mikha remarked. “It could disrupt the flow of movement and reduce efficiency.”
Aiah's eyebrows arched, a playful challenge glimmering in her eyes. “Or it could foster community, a sense of shared space. You always think in rigid structures, Mikha. Efficiency isn’t the only measure of success.”
Mikha’s jaw tightened. “And recklessly pushing for ‘creativity’ at the cost of functionality is careless. Anong mangyayari when maintenance becomes unsustainable?”
Aiah leaned against the table, crossing her arms. Her expression softened slightly, her gaze steady. “Maybe if you learned to take a risk, you’d see that creativity and sustainability can coexist. Not everything has to be boxed in, Mikha.”
Mikha opened her mouth to retort, but the facilitator stepped in, easing the rising tension. “Let's focus on merging strengths here. Terra Firma’s structural efficiency and Verda Co.'s innovative designs can complement each other.”
The room gradually shifted to more productive discussions, but Mikha could feel Aiah’s gaze lingering on her. It burned—not just with rivalry, but something deeper, something unspoken.
///
The session paused for a coffee break, giving everyone a chance to breathe. Mikha stepped out for air, her thoughts swirling. The intensity of the discussion left her feeling raw, exposed.
“Yikes, ang init ng tension kanina, ha?” Maloi whispered, sidling up to her. “Kung pwede lang gawan ng subtitle yung eye contact niyo ni Aiah, baka mas rated R pa!”
Mikha shot her a look. “Maloi, stop. I’m just—processing and what do you mean rated R? Ang bastos mo.”
“Uh-huh,” Maloi teased, winking. “Processing what? Your undying hatred or something else?”
Before Mikha could respond, Aiah appeared, holding two cups of coffee. Her gaze flicked to Maloi, and for a second, it seemed like she was sizing her up.
“Hey,” Aiah greeted, her tone unexpectedly neutral. “Coffee? They ran out of the fancy ones, but kape pa rin 'yan.”
Mikha blinked, caught off guard. “Uh, thanks?”
“Actually, may need pa pala akong i-check with Gwen,” Maloi piped up quickly, winking at Mikha before disappearing down the hall.
Aiah handed Mikha the cup, her fingers brushing against Mikha's. The contact was brief, but it sent a jolt through Mikha’s system. She stared at the coffee, a poor distraction from the racing of her heart.
“Didn’t think you’d accept it,” Aiah teased lightly.
“It’s just coffee,” Mikha replied, her voice steadier than she felt.
“Right,” Aiah chuckled, taking a sip. “Just coffee.”
They stood in silence for a moment, the sounds of other teams chatting and laughing echoing through the hallway. Mikha struggled to find the right words, the air between them charged and uncertain.
“Look, about earlier,” Aiah began, her voice quieter. “I didn’t mean to—”
“It’s fine,” Mikha cut in, too quickly. “It’s just work. Nothing personal.”
Aiah’s gaze lingered, unreadable yet curious. “Is it really nothing personal?”
Mikha faltered, the answer tangled between her pride and the confusing pull she felt toward this woman—this infuriating, captivating rival.
“I—” Mikha started, but a call from Maloi interrupted them.
“Mikha! They're calling us back in!”
Aiah took a step back, her smirk returning, though softer this time. “Well, duty calls. Let’s see how our ‘nothing personal’ rivalry plays out.”
Mikha watched her walk away, frustration and something else roiling inside her. As she rejoined her team, Maloi shot her a knowing look, but for once, Mikha had no comeback. Her defenses were wearing thin, and she hated that Aiah had anything to do with it.