Holding on
Mikha drummed her fingers on the edge of the conference table, barely paying attention to the reports flashing across the screen. It had been a week since she and Aiah decided to collaborate, a decision that still felt surreal.
Their companies, once locked in fierce rivalry, were now aligned—at least on paper. But what intrigued Mikha more was how seamlessly she and Aiah had fallen into step.
Aiah, seated beside her, leaned forward, her gaze sharp as she scrutinized the latest projections. “We should allocate more resources to the digital expansion,” she suggested, her voice firm but not dismissive.
Mikha smirked. “Oh? And here I thought you preferred a more traditional approach. What happened to the Aiah Rivera who insisted on physical expansions first?”
Aiah turned to her, a knowing glint in her eyes. “I evolved,” she said smoothly. “Unlike some people who are still predictable.”
Mikha let out a soft chuckle. “Predictable? Or consistent?”
The room went silent for a moment as their eyes locked, an electric charge passing between them. It was Colet who broke the moment, clearing her throat. “Uh, should we move on to the next agenda?”
Mikha leaned back, grinning. “Of course. Unless Aiah wants to keep challenging me.”
Aiah rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her small smile. “I’ll save it for later.”
---
Later that evening, they found themselves working late at Aiah’s office. Mikha was perched on the couch, laptop balanced on her lap, while Aiah stood by the window, sipping her coffee. The city lights cast a soft glow, illuminating her profile.
“You know,” Mikha mused, breaking the comfortable silence, “if someone told me a few months ago that we’d be working like this—peacefully—I would’ve laughed.”
Aiah turned to her, an amused glint in her eyes. “Peacefully? We spent the first three meetings arguing.”
“Debating,” Mikha corrected. “And I enjoyed every second of it.”
Aiah shook her head, but Mikha caught the slight flush on her cheeks. She set her coffee down and walked over, sitting beside Mikha on the couch. “You really thrive on making things difficult, don’t you?”
Mikha smirked. “Only with you.”
For a moment, there was just silence between them—the kind filled with unspoken words and an undeniable tension.
Aiah was close enough that Mikha could smell her faint vanilla perfume, close enough that if she just leaned in—
Aiah suddenly poked Mikha’s forehead, breaking the moment. “Stop looking at me like that. We still have work to do.”
Mikha let out a dramatic sigh. “Fine. But you owe me dinner after this.”
Aiah arched a brow. “And why would I owe you anything?”
“For tolerating you all day.” Mikha grinned.
Aiah chuckled, shaking her head. “Fine. But I pick the place.”
Mikha leaned closer, her voice dropping slightly. “As long as you pick me up, I don’t mind.”
Aiah blinked at her, speechless for once, and Mikha felt a surge of victory. She didn’t need to win every argument—they were already winning in a much bigger way.
—
Aiah walked into the conference room, scanning the space as she adjusted her blazer. Mikha was already seated, flipping through documents with an unreadable expression, her brows slightly furrowed in focus.
Aiah slid into the seat beside her, a smirk forming. “Good morning, Ms. Lim.”
Mikha barely glanced up. “You’re early. Who are you and what have you done with Aiah Rivera?”
Aiah chuckled, leaning a little closer. “Figured I’d make an impression.”
Mikha hummed, unimpressed but clearly amused. “Try harder.”
Before Aiah could respond, the rest of the team filed in, filling the room with the hum of conversation. Soon, the meeting was in full swing, both companies presenting strategies for their upcoming joint venture.
Aiah was focused—at first.
Then she felt it.
A light, barely-there touch on her thigh.
Aiah’s posture stiffened slightly as Mikha’s fingers ghosted over the fabric of her slacks, tracing slow, deliberate circles.
She turned her head ever so slightly, but Mikha was fully engaged in the discussion, as if she wasn’t very boldly teasing Aiah under the table.
Aiah inhaled slowly, keeping her composure. Two can play this game.
She tried to ignore the warmth spreading through her body, focusing on the numbers on the screen. “As you can see, our projections—”
Mikha’s fingers pressed down, just enough to send a shiver up Aiah’s spine.
Aiah clenched her jaw, shifting in her seat. She shot Mikha a sharp look, only to be met with an innocent blink.
“Something wrong?” Mikha murmured, her voice sweet but her fingers anything but.
Aiah exhaled sharply. “Nothing at all.”
Mikha smirked, her hand not moving away.
Aiah had to bite the inside of her cheek. Oh, she was enjoying this.
The meeting wrapped up soon after, and as the last person exited the room, Aiah turned to Mikha, expression unreadable.
“You think you’re funny?” Aiah asked, voice dangerously low.
Mikha leaned back in her chair, looking smug. “I wasn’t trying to be.”
Aiah scoffed. “You were touching me in the middle of a damn meeting.”
Mikha tilted her head. “You didn’t stop me.”
Aiah opened her mouth to argue—then closed it.
Mikha smirked, clearly winning this round.
Aiah exhaled through her nose, standing up and grabbing her bag. “Lunch. Now.”
Mikha raised an eyebrow. “Demanding, aren’t we?”
Aiah grabbed her wrist, pulling her up. “I’m hungry.” She shot Mikha a pointed look. “And you owe me.”
Mikha chuckled, following her out of the room. “Can’t wait to see how you plan on collecting.”
Aiah rolled her eyes, but the heat in her cheeks betrayed her.
—
Aiah stalked out of the conference room with Mikha in tow, her grip firm on Mikha’s wrist. She wasn’t dragging her—not exactly—but she was walking fast enough that Mikha was forced to match her pace, a smirk playing on her lips the entire time.
“You’re really worked up over this, huh?” Mikha teased as they stepped into the elevator.
Aiah didn’t answer immediately, just pushed the button for the parking level. The moment the doors slid shut, she turned to Mikha, her eyes dark. “You really think you can just do that in the middle of a meeting and walk away like nothing happened?”
Mikha raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. “Do what?”
Aiah let out a sharp laugh, shaking her head. “You’re unbelievable.”
The elevator dinged open, and Aiah marched toward her car, unlocking it with a quick press of a button.
Mikha, still looking far too smug, slipped into the passenger seat as Aiah got behind the wheel.
Aiah started the car, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter than necessary. “I swear, you love testing my patience.”
Mikha tilted her head, pretending to think. “I don’t love testing it. I just love seeing what happens when I do.”
Aiah shot her a look. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”
Mikha leaned closer, resting an elbow on the center console. “Well, can you blame me? You started it.”
Aiah frowned. “Started what?”
Mikha smirked. “Oh, come on, Rivera. You don’t get to act all innocent now. You were the one who started playing with my thigh during that last meeting. What, did you think I wouldn’t get back at you?”
Aiah blinked, caught off guard.
Mikha chuckled, shaking her head. “I just wanted you to experience exactly what you made me feel back then. The tension. The frustration.” She smirked, her voice dropping lower. “The anticipation.”
Aiah’s grip tightened on the wheel. She inhaled sharply, pressing her lips together. “You’re really something else, Lim.”
Mikha leaned back, looking satisfied. “And you love it.”
Aiah exhaled through her nose. “You’re damn right I do.”
Mikha grinned. “Good. Because I’m not stopping anytime soon.”
Aiah stole a glance at her, a slow smirk forming. “Neither am I.”
—
Mikha and Aiah arrived at the office just as a storm started brewing outside. The sky had darkened, the distant rumble of thunder rolling through the city. It was as if the universe itself was just as frustrated about their interrupted moment.
The elevator ride up to the executive floor was silent, thick with the tension still lingering from earlier. Aiah leaned against the elevator wall, arms crossed, eyes flicking to Mikha.
"You’re lucky I love you, Lim," Aiah muttered.
Mikha smirked but kept her eyes on the elevator doors. "I know."
Aiah huffed but couldn't hide the way the corner of her lips twitched.
As soon as the elevator doors slid open, they were met with Mikha’s assistant, who looked visibly relieved to see them.
"Ma’am, thank you for coming," she said, walking alongside Mikha as they made their way to the conference room. "The board is waiting, and the investors are on call."
Aiah, now curious, glanced at Mikha. "This better be worth it."
Mikha sighed. "It is."
As they entered the conference room, all eyes turned to them. Executives sat around the long table, screens displayed financial reports, and a video call was already in session.
Aiah slipped into her seat next to Mikha, scanning the documents in front of her. It didn’t take her long to realize what was happening—a last-minute deal negotiation.
Mikha leaned closer, lowering her voice just for Aiah. "They want to renegotiate some of the partnership terms. They pulled this meeting last minute, and I didn't want to risk making the wrong call without you."
Aiah blinked. Mikha didn’t have to include her in this. She was more than capable of handling it alone. But she chose to.
A warmth spread through Aiah’s chest.
"Okay," Aiah whispered back, lips curving into a small smile. "Let’s get this done."
Mikha returned the smile—small, subtle, but enough.
An hour later…
The meeting wrapped up with a finalized agreement, and despite the stress of it, everything was settled smoothly.
Executives started packing up their things, while Mikha massaged her temples, exhaustion evident on her face.
Aiah, noticing, leaned in. "You okay?"
Mikha exhaled. "Just tired. That was a lot."
Aiah smirked. "And here I thought you enjoyed these high-stakes negotiations."
Mikha chuckled. "Not when it interrupts better things."
Aiah bit her lip, amusement flickering in her eyes. "Come on, let’s get out of here. You still owe me, remember?"
Mikha raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And what exactly do I owe you?"
Aiah leaned in slightly, just enough to make Mikha’s breath hitch. "You’ll see."
Mikha swallowed, eyes darkening just a fraction. "We should leave. Now."
Aiah laughed. "That’s what I thought."
And with that, they left the office, hand in hand, the storm outside no longer the only thing crackling with electricity.
(Time skip)
Aiah sighed as she stared at the stack of documents on her desk. It felt like the papers never ended, each one needing her approval, revisions, or signature.
She glanced at her phone. No new messages.
She and Mikha had barely talked the past few days. It wasn’t intentional, but it was happening. The constant meetings, the never-ending negotiations, the sleepless nights working on their joint project—everything was consuming them.
She hated it.
Not the work itself—Aiah thrived in this kind of pressure—but the fact that it was pulling her and Mikha apart. They still saw each other, sure, but only in conference rooms, in between client calls, and during board discussions. And even then, their interactions were strictly business.
No lingering touches. No teasing smirks. No stolen moments.
It was just… work.
Aiah ran a hand through her hair, frustration creeping in.
She wanted to text Mikha, maybe ask if she wanted to grab dinner after work, but she already knew the answer.
Mikha was just as busy.
In fact, the last time they even ate together outside of a business setting felt like weeks ago.
She frowned when her office door suddenly opened. Colet peeked inside, raising an eyebrow. “Hey, we’re heading out for drinks. You coming?”
Aiah sighed. Tempting, but— “Can’t. I have a deadline.”
Colet gave her a knowing look. “You always have a deadline.”
Aiah just shrugged.
“You sure you’re okay?” Colet asked, stepping inside now.
“I’m fine,” Aiah said, maybe too quickly.
Colet hummed, unconvinced. “You and Mikha—”
“We’re fine,” Aiah cut in, forcing a smile. “Just… busy.”
Busy.
That was always the excuse.
Colet didn’t push, just nodded before heading out. When the door clicked shut, Aiah let out a breath, sinking into her chair.
She wasn’t lying.
They were fine.
Right?
—
Mikha stared at her laptop screen, but the words on the email blurred together. Another deal. Another negotiation. Another set of numbers demanding her attention.
Her phone buzzed.
Aiah: Did you eat?
Mikha exhaled sharply. It had been hours since she last checked her phone, and guilt settled in her stomach. She typed back quickly.
Mikha: Not yet. You?
A long pause. Then—
Aiah: Same.
Mikha bit her lip, fingers hovering over the keyboard. Say something. But what? She could tell Aiah to eat, she could joke about their bad habits, she could promise to call later—but they both knew later never came.
Before she could think of a response, another message arrived.
Aiah: Let’s stop doing this.
Mikha’s chest tightened. Doing what? Avoiding each other? Pretending everything was fine?
She hesitated before replying.
Mikha: What do you mean?
Aiah’s reply took longer this time.
Aiah: I don’t know. I just… hate how we keep missing each other.
Mikha swallowed, staring at the screen.
She hated it too.
She hated waking up to an empty bed, going through the day with nothing but rushed texts between them. She hated how Aiah was always in a different building, a different meeting, a different world—even when they were supposed to be together.
But what was she supposed to do about it?
Mikha leaned back, rubbing her temples. The past few weeks had been brutal—long nights, early mornings, deadlines that felt impossible.
Every time she thought she had a break, something urgent came up. And Aiah was the same.
That’s why she hadn’t been able to answer Aiah’s messages right away. It wasn’t because she didn’t want to. It was because every time she looked at her phone, another crisis demanded her attention.
She hated this.
She hated feeling like they were failing.
Her phone buzzed again.
Aiah: Are we okay?
Mikha clenched her jaw, suddenly feeling something burning in her chest. Why was Aiah even asking that? Of course they were okay. They loved each other.
Didn’t they?
—
Mikha didn’t leave her office.
She wanted to. Every part of her wanted to drop everything, walk out, and see Aiah. But what would that solve?
It wasn’t like they could magically fix their schedules, erase the exhaustion, or bring back the time they had already lost.
Instead, she stared at the phone screen, at Aiah’s last message.
Are we okay?
Mikha sighed, tilting her head back against the chair.
They were okay. Weren’t they?
A knock on the door made her sit up. One of her assistants peeked inside. “Miss Lim, the board needs you for the next meeting.”
Right. Work.
Mikha pushed the phone aside, swallowing the lump in her throat. “I’ll be there in a second.”
As soon as the door closed, she exhaled slowly.
She should reply. She needed to. But what was she supposed to say? Lying was pointless. They both knew things weren’t the same. But saying the truth—admitting that things felt off, that the distance between them was getting unbearable—was even harder.
Because what if they couldn’t fix it?
Mikha tapped her fingers against the desk, her chest tightening. They weren’t breaking up. That wasn’t even a question. But she couldn’t ignore how different things felt.
The teasing texts, the lingering touches, the effortless moments of closeness—they still had those. But they were becoming fewer and fewer, buried under endless work calls, late-night meetings, and exhaustion that left no room for
anything else.
Mikha ran a hand through her hair, frustrated.
She needed to do something.
Something before this gap between them became too wide to cross.
But for now, all she could do was take a deep breath, pick up her phone, and finally reply.
Mikha: We’re okay. Just tired.
She hesitated. Then, before she could overthink it—
Mikha: I miss you.
Then, shoving her phone into her pocket, she left for her meeting.
Still busy.
Still distant.
But still holding on.
—
Aiah didn’t want to admit it, but she had spent the last two days staring at her phone.
The texts. The missed calls. She'd sent messages to Mikha, but most of the time, the replies came late or not at all.
Even when they did, they felt distant, like Mikha was somewhere else entirely.
It wasn’t the typical back-and-forth they had—playful, flirty, intense, even. It was just… silence.
The last few weeks had been a blur of meetings, deadlines, and projects that felt like they were piling up faster than they could handle. Both of them.
And somewhere in all that, the connection they once shared seemed to be slipping through their fingers.
She’d tried to remind herself that it was just the work. That they’d been busy before, and they’d always found a way to balance it. But this felt different.
It felt like they were both slowly fading into their own worlds, drifting apart even though they were physically so close—sharing the same space but not really present.
Aiah bit her lip, glancing at her phone again. Still no reply from Mikha.
Am I overthinking?
She wasn’t sure anymore.
Aiah could almost hear Mikha’s voice in her head—“You’re overthinking, Aiah.”
Maybe she was.
But the feeling in her chest—the ache she couldn’t shake—was real.
The office was quiet now, everyone gone for the night, and Aiah couldn’t stop herself from thinking about Mikha. Why hasn’t she responded?
There had been a time, not long ago, when every message from Mikha would leave her heart fluttering. And now? Now, it was like they were strangers. Or worse, like they were holding back from each other, scared to be vulnerable.
Aiah let out a frustrated sigh, scrolling through her messages again. Nothing new.
She leaned back in her chair, running a hand through her hair. What was she supposed to do?
“We’re okay,” Mikha had said the other day, but was that true? Aiah wasn’t so sure anymore.
Was it just that everything felt heavier now, the weight of their busy lives getting in the way? Was it just the endless pressure, the deadlines they both had to meet? Or was there something else?
She pulled her knees up to her chest, resting her chin on them. The phone buzzed in her hand, and she quickly glanced at it.
It was Mikha.
Aiah’s heart skipped, but when she saw the message, the fluttering feeling was replaced with something more… complicated.
Mikha: We’re okay. Just tired.
Aiah's chest tightened as she read it.
Just tired. Was that it? Was that what Mikha was really feeling?
She took a deep breath before typing back.
Aiah: I miss you too.
It wasn’t enough. She knew it wasn’t. But the words felt true, and that was the hardest part of all. The truth was she wanted to say so much more.
But she didn’t know how to fix this.
How to fix them.
And she certainly didn’t want to push Mikha away.
But how much longer could they both keep pretending that everything was fine?
Aiah stared at the screen, her thumb hovering over the send button. And for a long time, she just didn’t know what to do next.
—
It had been days.
Five days, to be exact, since Mikha’s last message.
Five days of radio silence, each day feeling heavier than the last. Aiah had tried to keep busy—working, managing the new projects, checking in on the team—but the silence between her and Mikha was always there, lurking in the back of her mind.
She hadn’t heard Mikha’s voice, hadn’t seen that smirk, that playful glint in her eyes that always made her heart race.
The text messages, the calls—they had stopped coming.
Aiah sighed, her fingers tapping nervously against her phone.
She’d stared at it more than once, hoping for a new message, hoping Mikha would finally reach out.
But it never came.
Why was Mikha so distant?
The thought gnawed at Aiah, unsettling her in a way she couldn’t describe. It wasn’t like Mikha to pull away like this.
Even when they were both busy, they’d find a way to connect. But now? It felt like they were worlds apart.
She stared at her phone screen again, willing it to light up with Mikha’s name, but it remained dark.
Aiah bit her lip, running a hand through her hair in frustration. Maybe she was being unreasonable.
Maybe Mikha just needed some space—some time to deal with her own thoughts and feelings. But the waiting was killing her.
I miss you, Mikha.
She swallowed the words that threatened to escape. Instead, she texted something simple.
Aiah: Can we talk soon?
She didn’t expect a reply right away, but as soon as she hit send, her heart pounded in her chest.
Was that too much?
Was she being too forward?
Was Mikha really just too busy for her, or was there something more?
Minutes turned into an hour. Then two. Still no reply.
Aiah stared at the screen again, hoping, praying that the phone would buzz.
Her mind raced, wondering if maybe Mikha was avoiding her.
Maybe something had changed in their relationship that Aiah wasn’t aware of.
She couldn’t deny the nagging doubt that had been creeping in—Is Mikha falling out of love with me?
Aiah shook her head, trying to dismiss the thought.
She was overthinking again. She always did that, especially when things started to feel out of her control.
Just focus on work.
But it wasn’t that easy. Work didn’t stop her heart from aching every time she thought about Mikha.
It didn’t stop her from wishing things could go back to the way they were, when their love had felt effortless, natural, full of excitement and promise.
She hated this feeling—the feeling of not knowing where they stood.
The phone buzzed again.
Aiah’s breath hitched, and her heart raced in anticipation. She quickly grabbed the phone, but it wasn’t Mikha.
It was an email—another update on the project.
Aiah let out a frustrated sigh, tossing the phone onto the couch.
She couldn’t focus. Not with Mikha’s absence hanging over her like a heavy cloud.
It was a strange kind of loneliness. The kind that comes when you’re surrounded by people, yet your thoughts are consumed by one person.
The person who used to make everything feel right, even when everything else was falling apart.
She could only hope that this distance, whatever it was, was just temporary.
Aiah stood up, walking over to the window and looking out at the city below.
The lights of the city twinkled, but she felt cold, disconnected.
Was this just the normal ebb and flow of relationships?
Were they really just going through a rough patch?
She didn’t know.
But the one thing she did know was that she couldn’t keep waiting forever. She needed to know what was going on.
Aiah pulled her phone back into her hand, staring at the screen, her thumb hovering over Mikha’s contact. She had to do something—anything—to break this silence.
I miss you, Mikha.
The words were still there, echoing in her mind. But for now, all she could do was wait and hope that Mikha would break the silence first.
—
The drive home felt longer than usual.
Aiah kept one hand on the wheel, her other resting against her temple as she exhaled slowly.
The weight of the past few days had finally settled deep in her chest, leaving her both exhausted and emotionally drained.
She was tired of overthinking. Tired of waiting. Tired of missing Mikha without knowing if Mikha missed her just as much.
As she pulled into her driveway, she barely had the energy to turn off the engine.
The city lights flickered outside, but all she wanted was the comfort of her bed—something stable, something hers.
Inside, Aiah moved on autopilot.
She slipped off her heels, tossing them somewhere near the couch before making her way to the bathroom.
The warm water hit her skin, washing away the tension in her shoulders, but it didn’t cleanse the ache in her chest.
Stepping out, she dried her hair lazily with a towel, then threw on a loose shirt and shorts before collapsing onto her bed.
For once, she didn’t reach for her phone.
She didn’t check if Mikha had finally texted back.
She just wanted sleep.
And soon, the exhaustion claimed her.
—
Aiah wasn’t sure what woke her up.
Maybe it was the shift in the mattress, or the faint rustling of sheets. But something was different.
She blinked slowly, disoriented, before realizing there was warmth pressed against her back—an arm draped securely around her waist, a familiar scent surrounding her.
Her breath hitched.
Mikha.
Aiah's heart pounded as she remained still for a moment, letting herself feel it—the way Mikha’s arms held her close, as if she was afraid to let go.
The way Mikha's body molded perfectly against hers, as if this was exactly where she belonged.
Aiah bit her lip, torn between relief and frustration.
Where the hell have you been?
She wanted to turn around and shake her awake, to demand an explanation.
But at the same time… she didn’t want this moment to end.
Not yet.
Carefully, she shifted to face Mikha.
Even in the dim light, she could see the exhaustion on her girlfriend’s face—the dark circles under her eyes, the way her brows remained slightly furrowed even in sleep.
Mikha looked… worn out.
Aiah exhaled slowly, her anger melting into something softer.
She reached out hesitantly, brushing a strand of hair from Mikha’s face.
As if sensing her, Mikha stirred.
Her arms tightened around Aiah, nuzzling into her shoulder with a sleepy hum. “Hmm… you’re awake.”
Aiah swallowed the lump in her throat. “You broke into my house in the middle of the night.”
Mikha let out a tired chuckle, her grip not loosening. “Had a spare key, remember?”
Aiah rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t hide the way her chest ached in relief.
She had a million things to say—questions, frustrations, emotions she had bottled up for days. But right now, in this moment, she just wanted to hold Mikha back.
So she did.
Without another word, Aiah pulled Mikha closer, burying her face into the crook of her neck.
Mikha sighed contently, pressing a soft kiss to her temple.
“Sleep, baby,” Mikha whispered. “We’ll talk in the morning.”
Aiah’s eyes stung, but she nodded, allowing herself to melt into Mikha’s warmth.
For the first time in days, she felt at peace.
—
The morning sunlight seeped through the curtains, bathing the room in a soft, golden glow.
Aiah stirred, her body instinctively reaching for the warmth beside her. It wasn’t a dream—Mikha was really here.
Her arms were wrapped around Aiah’s waist, her grip tight, as if afraid that letting go would make Aiah disappear.
Aiah swallowed, feeling the weight of the past few weeks settle between them. The distance, the overthinking, the exhaustion—it had all led to this moment.
She carefully shifted in Mikha’s arms, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “You’re awake?”
Mikha hummed, her voice still laced with sleep. “Yeah.”
Silence stretched between them. Not awkward, but heavy with words left unsaid.
Aiah sighed, turning fully to face her. “Mikha, we need to talk.”
Mikha blinked, then slowly nodded. “I know.”
Aiah sat up against the headboard, pulling the blanket around her. “These past weeks have been… hard. I don’t know how else to say it.” She let out a humorless chuckle. “I was starting to think you didn’t want this anymore.”
Mikha’s head snapped up. “Aiah, no. I—”
Aiah shook her head. “I know now that wasn’t the case. But you barely responded to me. You canceled plans. Every time I tried to reach you, you were either busy or too tired. What was I supposed to think?”
Mikha exhaled, running a hand through her hair. “I was busy, Aiah. Work was relentless, and every time I tried to step away, something else came up. But I should’ve made time. I should’ve answered your messages, should’ve called you even just to say I miss you.” She met Aiah’s eyes, guilt evident. “I wasn’t ignoring you, I swear. I was just overwhelmed, and I didn’t realize how much I was shutting you out.”
Aiah bit her lip, letting Mikha’s words sink in.
“I get it,” she admitted after a moment. “I was drowning in work too. But even then, I still felt like I should’ve done more. Like maybe I was being too needy for wanting to hear from you.”
Mikha frowned. “You were never needy.”
Aiah sighed, rubbing her temples. “I just… I didn’t know what to think anymore. I kept telling myself to be patient, that you were just busy. But then days passed, and I felt like I was the only one making an effort.”
Mikha looked down, guilt flashing across her face. “You weren’t. I just— I thought if I could finish everything first, then I could give you all my time. But I didn’t realize I was already losing time with you in the process.”
Aiah’s heart clenched.
Mikha lifted her gaze, voice barely above a whisper. “I was scared, Aiah.”
Aiah frowned. “Scared of what?”
Mikha inhaled sharply. “Scared of not balancing things properly. Scared that if I kept choosing work, you’d think I was choosing something else over you.” She let out a humorless chuckle. “But in trying to prevent that, I ended up making you feel exactly that way.”
Aiah stared at her, realization hitting her all at once.
Because deep down, she had been scared too.
She let out a slow breath. “I was scared too, Mikha. Scared that if I asked for more of your time, I’d be selfish. That maybe I was expecting too much.” She gave a bitter chuckle. “Turns out we were both overthinking.”
Mikha exhaled shakily, then reached for Aiah’s hand. “I never want to make you feel like that again.”
Aiah squeezed her fingers. “Then we both have to work on this.”
Mikha nodded firmly. “No more guessing. No more assuming. We talk, no matter how tired or busy we are.”
Aiah smiled softly. “Deal.”
Mikha let out a breath of relief before pulling Aiah into her arms. “I love you,” she whispered, pressing her forehead against Aiah’s.
Aiah melted into the embrace. “I love you too.”
They weren’t perfect.
But they were in this together.
And that was all that mattered.