Thinking
The sound of rapid, impatient knocks echoed through Mikha’s office. She was buried in a stack of paperwork, trying to make sense of the latest reports when the door burst open. No warning — just Aiah, barging in like she owned the place.
Mikha's eyes shot up, a frown already forming. "Ever heard of knocking and waiting for permission, Aiah?"
Aiah smirked, a lazy but sharp curl of her lips. "Oh, I knocked. You were just too slow."
Mikha set her pen down, carefully restraining the urge to snap. "What do you want?"
Aiah strode forward, a folder in hand. She tossed it onto Mikha’s desk without care, causing the papers to scatter slightly. Mikha's eyes followed the chaos before glaring back up.
"This," Aiah began, crossing her arms, "is the revised proposal your team submitted. It's a mess."
Mikha’s jaw tightened. “Excuse me?”
Aiah tapped the folder with her finger. “This section contradicts the initial analysis. Your projections don't align. Are you even paying attention to the details, or do you just want to impress with big numbers?”
Mikha rose from her seat, fingers gripping the edge of her desk. The proximity between them felt like a challenge — one Aiah was daring her to take. “I don’t need a lecture from someone whose idea of strategy is steamrolling anyone in her way.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Nasaktan ba feelings mo?” Aiah shot back, eyes narrowing. “I didn’t realize being direct was a crime.”
“Being direct and being a condescending jerk are two different things, Aiah.”
Silence stretched between them, heated and heavy. Mikha’s heart hammered, her frustration mixing with an unspoken pull that she hated to acknowledge. Aiah’s eyes didn’t waver — sharp, assessing, but there was a spark there, one Mikha couldn’t ignore.
“Look,” Aiah finally said, her voice calmer but still edged with irritation. “If you want this deal to work, we need to get our acts together. I can't keep fixing your mistakes.”
“Fixing my mistakes?” Mikha laughed bitterly. “You act like you're carrying this project alone. Newsflash — you're not the only one here, Aiah.”
Aiah stepped even closer, their faces inches apart. “Then prove it, Mikha. Patunayan mo na you can handle it.”
The challenge in her voice was unmistakable. Mikha's breath caught in her throat, her frustration at war with something she didn't want to admit. Her gaze flickered down, catching the
curve of Aiah's smirk, the sharpness of her jaw — and she hated how aware she was of all of it.
"Maybe I will," Mikha shot back. "And when I do, I won't need you breathing down my neck."
Aiah's smirk widened, a dangerous glimmer in her eyes. “We'll see about that.”
Aiah turned on her heel, the scent of her perfume lingering, annoyingly captivating. As the door closed behind her, Mikha let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. Her fingers brushed the edge of the scattered folder, but her mind was already somewhere else — somewhere dangerous, where the line between hate and something else was razor-thin.
Mikha sank back into her chair, fingers drumming against the desk as she glared at the closed door. Why did Aiah always manage to crawl under her skin? It was infuriating, the way Aiah's confidence straddled the line between irritating and — No, Mikha wasn’t going there. She refused.
Her phone vibrated, a message from Maloi lighting up the screen.
Maloi: “Hoy, how’s the ice queen? Nadali ka na naman ni Aiah, noh? Haha!”
Mikha scowled, typing a response with aggressive taps.
Mikha: “Busy ako, Maloi. Unlike some people.”
Maloi: “Busy daw, pero iniisip pa rin si Aiah. Wehhh?”
Mikha huffed, tossing her phone aside. Maloi wasn’t wrong, and that was the most irritating part of it all.
///
Mikha leaned back in her chair, pinching the bridge of her nose. Her mind refused to let go of Aiah — her sharp voice, the infuriating smirk, the way she could effortlessly unsettle Mikha's usually composed demeanor. It was frustrating. Exhausting, even.
And yet, somewhere in the tangled mess of her thoughts, a part of her couldn't help but respect Aiah's audacity. She was bold, unrelenting, and damnably good at what she did. Maybe that was why Mikha couldn't ignore her — because, deep down, Aiah challenged her in a way no one else had.
"Focus, Mikha," she muttered to herself, tapping her fingers on the desk. "You've got bigger things to worry about than her."
But even as she tried to immerse herself in the report, her mind wandered back to the intensity of their earlier confrontation. The proximity, the way Aiah's eyes burned with challenge — it lingered like an imprint she couldn't erase. What bothered her more was the thrill she felt coursing through her veins, a twisted excitement that had no business existing.
A knock sounded on her door again, pulling her from her tangled thoughts. For a split second, her heart leaped, wondering if it was Aiah coming back for round two. But when the door opened, it was Maloi's face peeking through, grinning mischievously.
"Hoy, ayos ka lang ba diyan? Mukhang nag-away kayo ng jowa mo, ah," Maloi teased.
Mikha's glare could have cut glass. "Maloi, shut up or I'll throw this ballpen at you."
Maloi laughed. She perched on the edge of Mikha's desk, arms crossed as if ready to dissect every inch of her friend’s expression.
"Grabe, nag-jo-joke lang, ah. Ano ba, Mikha? Spill," Maloi teased.
Mikha rolled her eyes, feigning annoyance, but her walls were thinner than usual. The frustration from her run-in with Aiah lingered, simmering just beneath her calm exterior.
"Nothing. Just work," Mikha muttered, tapping her pen restlessly. "Alam mo naman, busy season."
"Work daw," Maloi mocked. "Or baka Aiah season?"
Mikha shot her a withering look. "Maloi, please. Wala akong time para sa mga jokes mo ngayon."
"Eh bakit parang siya lang ang nakakapagpa-ganyan sa'yo, ha?" Maloi nudged her playfully. "Mikha, ingat ka. Baka ang galit, nauuwi sa—"
"Wala. Mauuwi sa wala" Mikha cut in. She ran a hand through her hair, exhaling sharply. "It's just... she's so irritating. Parang lahat ng gawin ko, may mali. She’s just... ugh."
Maloi raised a brow, an amused smile playing on her lips. "Ugh? Iba 'yan, ha. Lalim, Mikha."
Kainis.
Maloi's smirk widened, clearly enjoying Mikha's frustration. "Alam mo, Mikha, minsan iniisip ko na baka hindi lang galit 'yan," she teased. "Baka naman... attraction?"
Mikha's eyes widened, heat crawling up her neck. "Maloi, are you serious? Attraction? Sa kaniya? No way. I can't even stand her tapos attracted pa ako sa kaniya?"
"Can't stand her or can't stop thinking about her?" Maloi challenged, laughter in her tone.
Mikha opened her mouth to protest, but nothing came out. She hated how Maloi could read her so easily, how she saw through her defenses and poked at the insecurities Mikha refused to acknowledge.
"Look, I don't like her, okay and I WILL NEVER LIKE HER? She's self-centered, stubborn, and always thinks she's right," Mikha muttered, frustration sharpening her tone. "I can't deal with someone like that."
Maloi chuckled softly. "Or maybe hindi mo lang matanggap na finally, may nakahanap ng katapat mo. And, I will never like you sa'yo dyan, baka kainin mo mga sinabi mo. Ganiyan nagsimula lolo at lola ko "
Mikha's glare could have burned a hole through Maloi's head. "This is pointless. I have work to do."
"Fine, fine. Ayoko na maging third wheel ng denial mo," Maloi teased, lifting her hands in surrender as she headed for the door. "Pero Mikha, ingat ka. Baka sa kakaiwas mo, mas lalo kang mahulog."
"Mahulog my ass," Mikha scoffed, but Maloi's words lingered in the air even after she left.
Alone again, Mikha leaned back, staring blankly at the documents in front of her.
Aiah pov
Aiah paced inside her office, her heels clicking sharply against the polished floor. Her mind raced, replaying the argument she had with Mikha earlier. It shouldn't have affected her this much, but it did. The way Mikha's eyes flared with defiance, the way her voice sharpened to a cold edge — it was both infuriating and... electrifying.
"Ano ba, Aiah? Ano bang nangyayari sa'yo?" she muttered to herself, running a frustrated hand through her hair. Mikha always found a way to get under her skin, to pull at the threads of her composure until they unraveled.
She slumped into her chair, staring blankly at the view outside her office window. Mikha was stubborn, arrogant, and so irritatingly sure of herself. It drove Aiah mad how someone so infuriating could make her heart race in a way that no one else could.
“Bakit ba affected ka masyado?” she whispered, almost accusing herself. This wasn't supposed to happen. She had convinced herself that Mikha was just an obstacle, a rival to overcome, nothing more. But lately, every argument, every tense encounter left her more rattled than she'd care to admit.
The knock on her door broke through her thoughts. It was Jhoanna, holding a stack of documents. "Hey, you okay? Parang lutang ka, ah."
Aiah forced a smirk. "Just thinking. May nagpoproblema lang ako na... stubborn na tao."
Jhoanna chuckled. "Stubborn, huh? Baka naman hindi stubborn. Baka gusto mo lang talagang i-prove na tama ka kahit minsan... baka naman gusto mo lang siya."
“Excuse me?” Aiah’s eyes narrowed. "Gusto? Over my gorgeous dead body."
Jhoanna raised her hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. Sabi mo, eh. Pero alam mo, Aiah... minsan yung taong nakakainis, sila yung pinaka-tumatatak.”
Aiah’s expression tightened. The worst part? Jhoanna might just be right.
As Jhoanna left, Aiah leaned back, eyes trained on the ceiling. The entire argument with Mikha replayed in her mind — the sharp exchange of words, the way Mikha’s jaw clenched when she was challenged, the unyielding stare that met Aiah's glare head-on.
“Ano bang problema ng babaeng 'yon?” Aiah muttered, exasperation heavy in her voice. Mikha was insufferable — stubborn, unrelenting, always determined to have the last word. It drove Aiah up the wall. Every interaction with her felt like a battle she had to win, a contest of who could assert themselves more.
It wasn't just at meetings either. Mikha seemed to occupy every space Aiah tried to claim. Projects, clients, partnerships — it was as if Mikha made it a personal mission to challenge her at every turn. Aiah could handle competition, but Mikha’s presence was relentless.
Her phone buzzed, jolting her from her thoughts. A message from Colet.
Colet: Meeting later, 3 PM. And yes, kasama si Mikha. Good luck.
Aiah rolled her eyes, frustration bubbling up again. Of course. Just when she thought she could have a breather, there she was — Mikha, unavoidable and infuriating. Aiah gripped the edge of her desk, willing herself to stay composed. If there was a way to get through this meeting without snapping, she needed to find it. There was no way she would give Mikha the satisfaction of thinking she got to her. Not a chance.
///
The hours passed by quicker than Aiah expected. Before she knew it, the clock struck three, and it was time for the meeting. She took a deep breath before stepping into the conference room, her gaze immediately landing on Mikha, who was already seated — composed, confident, annoyingly unfazed.
Mikha’s eyes flicked to her, a barely-there smirk curling at the edge of her lips. “Oh, you’re here. Akala ko ba busy ka masyado para sa mga ‘to?”
Aiah’s jaw tightened. “Well, I make time for things that actually matter. I can't say the same for distractions.”
Mikha chuckled, the sound grating yet annoyingly melodic. “Distractions? Mukhang maraming ‘distractions’ lately, ah. Baka naman naguguluhan ka na, Aiah?”
Aiah forced a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Trust me, Mikha. I know exactly what I’m doing.”
The air between them felt charged, a silent battle neither of them was willing to lose. Stacey started the meeting, drawing everyone's attention, but Aiah's focus remained sharpened. She caught every flicker of expression from Mikha, every time she interjected, every calculated comment.
It was infuriating how seamlessly Mikha presented her ideas — confident, composed, just on the edge of cocky. Aiah hated how Mikha made it all look so easy, how she seemed to relish every chance to challenge her.
Aiah clenched her pen tighter as Mikha confidently explained her perspective, the room's attention hanging on her every word. It wasn't just that Mikha was articulate — it was the way she owned the space, how she spoke like she already knew she was right. The worst part was that some of her points were actually good, annoyingly so.
When Mikha finished, there was a brief silence. Maloi cleared her throat. "Aiah, any thoughts?"
Aiah straightened, forcing herself to sound calm and composed. "I see the merit in Mikha's ideas, but I think there are gaps. If we prioritize that approach, we risk overlooking some critical details." Her voice didn't waver, but she saw the slightest twitch of Mikha's eyebrow — a subtle acknowledgment of the jab.
"Oh?" Mikha leaned back, that familiar smirk making its appearance. "Care to elaborate, Aiah? Baka kasi you're just overthinking it."
Aiah's gaze sharpened. "Or maybe you're underestimating the complexities, Mikha. Not everything is as simple as you like to make it seem."
The room felt charged, tension threading through the air as the two of them held each other's stares. Aiah’s pulse quickened, a blend of irritation and adrenaline. This was what Mikha did — pushed, provoked, and tested her limits. And Aiah hated how she always felt the need to push back.
Maloi cleared her throat again, sensing the palpable tension. "Alright, ladies, let's stay on track. We're here to find the best approach, not tear each other down." Her voice was light, but there was a firmness to it — a warning.
Aiah forced herself to lean back, unclenching her fists. She stole a quick glance at Mikha, who still wore that infuriatingly smug expression. As if she had won something. As if Aiah's irritation was a victory in itself.
"Fine," Aiah muttered, her tone controlled. "Let's proceed."
The meeting dragged on, and Aiah tried her best to focus, but every time Mikha spoke, it felt like a challenge. A subtle, pointed remark that only Aiah seemed to catch. Like they were playing a game that no one else in the room knew existed.
When the meeting finally ended, everyone began gathering their things. Aiah moved quickly, determined to leave before Mikha could corner her with another passive-aggressive remark. But, of course, fate wasn't on her side today.
"Aiah," Mikha called out, her voice laced with amusement. "Huwag masyadong seryoso. It might give you wrinkles."
Aiah halted, biting back a retort. She turned, forcing a tight smile. "Thanks for the concern, Mikha. I’ll keep that in mind."
And with that, she walked away, her heart pounding, the irritation burning hotter with each step.
Aiah stormed out of the conference room, her heels clicking sharply against the tiled floor. She hated how Mikha had the power to unravel her so effortlessly — how a single smirk, a pointed comment, could send her pulse racing with a mixture of frustration and something she couldn't quite name.
She reached the break room and leaned against the counter, exhaling heavily. Maybe she needed coffee. Or a vacation. Or to punch a wall.
“Aiah?”
She looked up to see Stacey peeking in, a hesitant smile on her face.
"Hey," Aiah replied, attempting to compose herself. “What’s up?”
Stacey stepped inside, eyeing her carefully. “You okay? You looked... intense back there.”
Aiah forced a laugh, a little too strained. “Just the usual. Mikha being Mikha.”
Stacey chuckled knowingly. “You two are like fire and gasoline. Parang laging may sasabog.”
Aiah rolled her eyes but didn't disagree. “It's just... ugh. She thinks she's so clever, so untouchable.”
“Well,” Stacey smirked, “you seem pretty affected, huh?”
Aiah scoffed, though her cheeks warmed slightly. “Affected? No way. It's just—she gets under my skin.”
"Exactly," Stacey teased, winking. "Under your skin. Deeply, it seems."
Aiah's eyes narrowed, but the comment lingered longer than she wanted it to.
Aiah huffed, crossing her arms. “Stacey, I swear, if you’re implying anything—”
“I’m just saying,” Stacey cut in, raising her hands in surrender but grinning. “The way you and Mikha fight? Grabe, Aiah. There’s... something there.”
Aiah shot her a sharp look. “Yeah. Hatred.”
Stacey just laughed. “Sure, sure. Keep telling yourself that.”
Before Aiah could argue, the door swung open, and as if summoned by sheer irritation, Mikha strolled in. She looked unfazed as always, her confident strides making it seem like she owned the place.
Aiah tensed immediately.
Mikha’s gaze flickered between her and Stacey before smirking. “Talking about me, ladies?”
Stacey coughed to cover a laugh, throwing Aiah a pointed look before grabbing her coffee and making a quick escape. “I’ll leave you two to it.”
Aiah glared at Stacey’s retreating back.
Traitor.
Now, it was just her and Mikha.
Mikha leaned against the counter, way too close for Aiah’s liking. “So? Ano na naman ang iniisip mong masasamang bagay tungkol sa akin, Aiah?”
Aiah met her eyes, fire burning in her gaze. “You really want to know?”
Mikha tilted her head, a slow grin forming. “Oh, I’d love to.”
The tension crackled like a live wire between them.
Aiah's jaw tightened, her heart pounding annoyingly loud in her chest. Mikha's smirk was insufferable, daring, like she knew exactly what effect she had.
"Fine," Aiah shot back. "I think you're infuriating, arrogant, and you have this irritating need to act like you're always a step ahead."
Mikha's grin widened, unbothered. "Infuriating, arrogant, irritating. That's a lot of adjectives, Aiah. Sounds like you think about me a lot."
Aiah's eyes narrowed. "Don't flatter yourself."
Mikha took a step closer, erasing the space between them. They were nearly nose to nose, and Aiah's breath caught — she hated that it caught. She hated that her pulse quickened with Mikha this close.
"Too late," Mikha teased softly. "Already did."
Aiah's gaze dropped briefly to Mikha's lips before snapping back to her eyes, silently cursing herself for even glancing.
Gosh. Those lips.
Mikha noticed, of course. Her smirk grew smugger, eyes glimmering with challenge.
"What, Aiah?" Mikha whispered, her voice maddeningly calm. "Cat got your tongue?"
Aiah forced herself to hold Mikha's gaze, determined not to be the one to break first. "You wish."
Mikha leaned in just a fraction closer, their noses nearly brushing. "Maybe I do."
Aiah's breath hitched. The air between them was charged, taut like a wire pulled tight. For a brief, dizzying second, it felt like the world had narrowed down to just them — the heat of Mikha’s gaze, the teasing curl of her lips.
But Aiah wasn't going to give Mikha the satisfaction of a reaction. She clenched her jaw, forced herself to scoff, and pushed past her, her heart hammering as she made her way out of the break room.
Aiah stormed out of the break room, her heart still hammering against her ribs. Her mind raced, replaying the moment Mikha leaned in—too close, too familiar, too confident. It irritated her how easily Mikha could unravel her composure with just a look, a smirk, a well-timed word.
"Stupid, smug—" Aiah muttered under her breath, barely noticing Maloi standing by her desk.
"Whoa, whoa," Maloi interjected, raising a brow. "Sino na naman ang nanakit sa 'yo?"
Aiah scowled, unwilling to admit the answer. "Wala. Just... work stuff."
Maloi didn't buy it. She glanced at the open break room door, then back at Aiah. "Work stuff or Mikha stuff?"
Aiah shot her a glare. "Anong Mikha stuff?"
Maloi chuckled, nudging her. "Grabe ka makapagtanggi. You’re literally fuming. What did she do this time?"
Aiah opened her mouth, then closed it. What would she even say? That Mikha got too close, that her breath tickled her cheek, that for a stupid, reckless second, she thought—
"Maloi, please. Drop it," Aiah finally muttered, shaking her head.
Maloi smirked, a knowing glint in her eye. "Sure, sure. Pero Aiah, just saying... ang lapit na ng mukha mo kanina kay Mikha. Kung iba ka lang, baka sinunggaban mo na."
Aiah's face burned. "Oh my god, Maloi!"
Maloi just laughed, leaving Aiah to stew in her conflicting, tangled-up thoughts.