Mine
The invitation arrived in sleek, embossed stationery, the kind that practically screamed exclusivity. Aiah had barely skimmed the details before Mikha snatched it from her hands, reading over it with a critical eye.
“A private party?” Mikha mused, flipping the card. “Hosted by one of the biggest investors in the industry… We have to go.”
Aiah leaned back against the couch, arms crossed. “We could go. But do we want to?”
Mikha gave her a look. “It’s business. Plus, it’s a good opportunity to solidify our presence as a power couple.” She smirked, clearly enjoying the title.
Aiah sighed, shaking her head but unable to hide her amusement. “Fine. But if I have to suffer through another night of industry small talk, you owe me.”
Mikha grinned. “Deal.”
Now came the fun part—choosing what to wear.
Aiah stood in front of her walk-in closet, contemplating her options. “Classic black?” she muttered, holding up an elegant, form-fitting dress.
Mikha, who was lounging on the bed, propped herself up on one elbow. “That’s safe. You’re already hot, so you could wear anything, but…” She trailed off, eyes darkening slightly as Aiah pulled out a sleek crimson dress.
Aiah noticed. Smirked. “You like this one?”
Mikha swallowed. “I have no objections.”
“I wasn’t asking for objections.” Aiah chuckled, draping the dress over her arm before walking past Mikha—purposely slow, making sure Mikha got a full view.
Mikha groaned. “You’re doing this on purpose.”
Aiah winked. “Always.”
Mikha, for her part, opted for a deep navy suit, tailored perfectly to her frame. When they were finally ready, standing side by side in front of the mirror, Aiah gave an approving nod.
“We look expensive.”
“We are expensive,” Mikha corrected with a smirk.
With that, they left for the event.
—
The venue was lavish—an exclusive high-rise penthouse with floor-to-ceiling windows that showcased the city skyline. The air buzzed with chatter, the clinking of crystal glasses, and the underlying hum of business dealings disguised as casual conversations. Champagne flowed freely, designer gowns and tailored suits filled the space, but Aiah and Mikha?
They stood out.
Not just because of their influence, but because together, they commanded attention.
Aiah, in a deep crimson dress that hugged her figure just right, exuded confidence with every step. Mikha, in a navy-blue suit sharp enough to cut, walked beside her, her hand resting possessively at the small of Aiah’s back.
They were untouchable.
Or so Mikha thought.
Then, of course, came the inevitable.
Jeremy.
He moved through the crowd with the same cocky air he always had, a drink in one hand and that insufferable smirk on his lips.
But what set Mikha’s teeth on edge was the way his eyes devoured Aiah before he even spoke.
“Aiah,” he greeted smoothly, completely ignoring Mikha’s presence. “I was wondering if I’d see you here.”
Mikha’s grip on Aiah’s waist tightened.
Aiah’s expression didn’t waver, but Mikha felt the subtle shift in her posture—stiffening just slightly, like she already knew this would be annoying. “Jeremy.”
Jeremy took a slow sip of his drink, eyes still locked on Aiah. “I was actually meaning to follow up on our last conversation,” he continued, stepping forward—too close. “You left me hanging.”
Mikha immediately moved.
Effortlessly, she slid between them, her body a physical barrier as she stepped directly into Jeremy’s space. “Whatever you were discussing can go through me,” Mikha said coolly, her voice laced with quiet authority. “Aiah doesn’t entertain unnecessary conversations.”
Jeremy finally acknowledged Mikha, his smirk widening like he enjoyed the challenge. “Oh? And you get to decide that now?”
Mikha tilted her head, her smile sharp. “No. I’ve always decided that.”
The air around them shifted.
Aiah, barely holding back a smirk, let her hands rest on Mikha’s shoulders—deliberate, possessive, territorial. “Jeremy, was there actually a business-related reason you wanted to talk,” she asked, voice deceptively sweet, “or were you just hoping to waste my time?”
Jeremy’s cocky demeanor faltered for half a second before he chuckled, lifting his glass in mock surrender. “Fair enough.” His gaze flickered between them—calculating—before he finally stepped back. “Enjoy your evening, you two.”
As soon as he walked away, Mikha turned to Aiah, jaw tight. “Last conversation?”
Aiah sighed dramatically, tilting her head. “I swear it was nothing—just him being annoying.”
Mikha scoffed, arms tightening around Aiah’s waist. “I don’t like him looking at you like that.”
Aiah grinned, looping her arms around Mikha’s neck. “Jealous?”
Mikha’s eyes darkened. “No.” She leaned in, voice dropping to something low and dangerous. “Possessive.”
Aiah exhaled sharply, her fingers curling against Mikha’s suit. “I love that.”
Mikha didn’t waste another second. In full view of everyone—investors, rivals, the entire damn elite—she pulled Aiah in and pressed a lingering, claiming kiss against her temple. A warning. A message.
She’s mine. Always has been. Always will be.
And that was that.
—
Mikha had stepped away for a moment, caught up in a conversation with a group of executives, while Aiah entertained a separate discussion with another set of business partners.
They had been mingling separately, but Aiah always kept Mikha within her sight—a habit she wasn’t planning to break anytime soon.
Then, out of nowhere, she saw it.
Denise.
Sliding up way too close to Mikha.
Aiah’s eyes narrowed immediately.
Denise placed a hand on Mikha’s forearm as she whispered something—too close, too familiar. And Mikha, ever polite, didn’t move away immediately, seemingly caught up in the conversation.
Aiah’s fingers tightened around her champagne glass.
Oh, hell no.
Without hesitation, she strode across the room, her heels clicking against the marble floor with purpose.
Mikha barely had time to react before Aiah effortlessly inserted herself between them, one hand firmly resting on Mikha’s waist—claiming her in front of everyone.
“Denise.” Aiah’s voice was sickly sweet, but her grip on Mikha was anything but.
Denise raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Oh? What’s with the look, Aiah?”
Aiah ignored her, turning to Mikha instead. “Baby,” she murmured, running a hand up Mikha’s arm—her voice laced with territorial intent. “I was looking for you.”
Mikha, sensing the tension, smirked slightly. “I was just—”
Aiah didn’t let her finish. She turned her attention fully to Denise, her tone smooth yet dangerously firm.
“Is there a reason you’re touching my girlfriend?”
Mikha’s breath hitched. Oh, damn.
Denise, on the other hand, grinned like she had just won something. “Relax, Aiah. I was just chatting with her.”
Aiah’s grip on Mikha’s waist tightened. “You can chat without touching her.”
Denise chuckled, raising her hands in mock surrender. “Wow, you really get jealous easily, huh?”
Aiah didn’t even blink. “Possessive.”
Mikha had to bite her lip to keep from laughing.
Denise tilted her head, her amusement only growing. “You do know I was just messing with you, right?”
Aiah exhaled sharply, but she didn’t loosen her hold on Mikha. “Try it again, and see how funny I find it next time.”
Denise laughed, shaking her head. “Damn, you two are something else.” With that, she backed off, still chuckling to herself as she walked away.
Aiah turned back to Mikha, her eyes dark with intensity. “You let her get too close.”
Mikha grinned, leaning in slightly. “I knew you’d come claim me.”
Aiah narrowed her eyes before grabbing Mikha’s tie, pulling her closer. “You’re mine, Mikha Lim.”
Mikha smirked, her hands settling on Aiah’s waist. “I know, baby.”
Aiah hummed, still displeased but very satisfied with her display of dominance.
Mikha chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to her temple. “You’re really hot when you’re jealous.”
Aiah smirked.
And with that, she led Mikha away—making sure everyone knew exactly who she belonged to.
—
With Denise finally out of the way (for now), Aiah kept a firm grip on Mikha’s hand as they moved through the party. The tension in her jaw hadn’t quite faded yet, and Mikha could tell.
“You’re still thinking about it, aren’t you?” Mikha murmured, leaning down slightly so only Aiah could hear.
Aiah took a sip of her champagne, her grip on Mikha’s fingers tightening. “No.”
Mikha raised an eyebrow. “Liar.”
Aiah exhaled sharply, finally turning to face her. “She was too close to you.”
Mikha smirked. “You already won, Aiah. You scared her off.”
Aiah narrowed her eyes. “She wasn’t scared. She was entertained.”
Mikha laughed softly, wrapping an arm around Aiah’s waist. “So what? You showed everyone who I belong to.”
Aiah looked up at her, eyes dark and serious. “Damn right, I did.”
Mikha chuckled, pressing a soft kiss against Aiah’s temple. “Come on, let’s take a break from these people. You’ve marked your territory enough for one night.”
Aiah hummed, allowing Mikha to guide her towards a quieter balcony area.
—
The city lights stretched below them, the hum of the party fading into the background as Aiah finally allowed herself to breathe. Mikha leaned against the railing, pulling Aiah closer between her arms, letting her rest against her chest.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then, Mikha broke the silence with a smirk. “You know, it’s kind of funny.”
Aiah tilted her head. “What is?”
“You were so smug when I got jealous over Jeremy,” Mikha teased. “But the moment Denise got near me, you—”
Aiah glared. “Don’t finish that sentence.”
Mikha laughed. “You’re so cute when you’re jelous.”
Aiah huffed, pretending to be annoyed, but her fingers toyed with the hem of Mikha’s blazer. “I wasn’t just being jelous. I was right.”
Mikha leaned in, her nose brushing against Aiah’s temple. “Of course, baby. You’re always right.”
Aiah shot her a look. “Don’t patronize me.”
Mikha smirked. “Would never dare.”
Aiah sighed, finally letting go of the tension. “You are mine, Mikha Lim.”
Mikha’s lips curled into a smile. “And you are mine, Aiah Rivera.”
Aiah leaned up, pressing a slow, lingering kiss against Mikha’s lips, claiming her again—but this time, it wasn’t about proving anything to anyone else.
It was just them.
And that was all that mattered.
—
Just as they were about to slip away completely, a familiar voice called out.
“Aiah! Mikha!”
They turned to see Maloi and Colet approaching—Maloi looking slightly tipsy, while Colet just looked amused.
“Oh no,” Aiah muttered. “They found us.”
Mikha laughed as Maloi practically dragged them back toward the main event.
“Guys, guys, you have to witness this,” Maloi announced dramatically. “Jhoanna challenged Stacey to a drinking contest, and somehow—”
“She’s winning,” Colet finished, shaking her head.
Aiah groaned. “This is why we can’t leave you people alone.”
Mikha smirked. “This is why you shouldn’t get jealous and drag me away.”
Aiah elbowed her. “Shut up.”
Colet, who had definitely witnessed Aiah’s jealous display earlier, just chuckled. “By the way, Denise said she had fun tonight.”
Aiah scowled. “Tell her I said fuck off.”
Colet burst out laughing. “Oh my gosh, you really hate her right now.”
Mikha kissed Aiah’s cheek teasingly. “Don’t worry, baby. I only have eyes for you.”
Aiah huffed, but her hold on Mikha didn’t loosen.
“Damn right, you do.”
—
The party had finally wound down, with most of their friends either gone or barely standing. Gwen had taken Sheena home, Maloi was being half-dragged by Colet, and Jhoanna was practically carrying Stacey toward the exit.
And then there was Mikha.
Drunk.
Very, very drunk.
Aiah sighed as she helped Mikha into the car, trying to strap her in while Mikha refused to sit still.
“Nooo,” Mikha whined, arms wrapping tightly around Aiah’s waist. “I wanna stay with youuuu.”
Aiah groaned. “Baby, I’m literally right here—let me put your seatbelt on.”
Mikha pouted, pressing her forehead against Aiah’s. “You smell sooo good.”
Aiah froze for half a second before sighing. “Mikha, you’re drunk.”
Mikha hummed, her fingers lazily tracing Aiah’s jaw. “I don’t care. You’re mine.”
Aiah smirked, leaning in slightly. “Oh? You’re getting possessive now?”
Mikha narrowed her eyes. “I saw people looking at you tonight.”
Aiah raised an eyebrow, amusement flickering in her gaze. “And?”
Mikha tightened her grip around Aiah’s waist, her voice dropping into a low grumble. “Didn’t like it. They should know you’re mine.”
Aiah chuckled, finally managing to strap Mikha into the seat. “Baby, I spent the whole night showing them that.”
Mikha huffed, still looking very displeased. “Not enough.”
Aiah leaned down, pressing a teasing kiss to Mikha’s jaw. “Then maybe you should do something about it next time.”
Mikha, in her drunken state, took that as a challenge.
Without hesitation, she pulled Aiah forward, crashing their lips together in a sloppy, needy kiss.
Aiah gasped, caught off guard for the first time that night. But then she melted into it, her hands immediately finding Mikha’s face, kissing her back just as fiercely.
When they finally pulled away, Mikha smirked triumphantly.
“There. Now everyone knows.”
Aiah let out a shaky breath, trying to compose herself. “Oh my god. You’re actually insane.”
Mikha grinned, looking very proud of herself. “Only for you.”
Aiah groaned, running a hand down her face. “I need to get you home before you start a scandal.”
Mikha just giggled, resting her head on Aiah’s shoulder. “Love youuuu.”
Aiah sighed but couldn’t stop smiling.
“Yeah, yeah. I love you too, you crazy drunk idiot.”
She pressed a kiss to Mikha’s forehead before closing the car door.
Tonight had been a mess—but at least, she was her mess.
*Time skip*
Mikha woke up with a sleepy smile, stretching lazily as she reached for her phone.
It was their 8th monthsary today.
She was already expecting the usual—an early morning message from Aiah, maybe even a voice note of her teasingly saying, "Happy monthsary, baby." It was their little tradition, after all.
They always made it a point to be the first to greet each other on the morning of their special day.
But when she checked her phone, her smile faltered.
Nothing.
Her notifications were filled with work emails and a few messages from their friends, but from Aiah? Not even a single dot indicating she was typing.
Mikha blinked. That was… unusual.
She sat up, rubbing her temples as she tried to reason with herself. Maybe Aiah was still asleep. Or maybe she was busy with something early in the morning.
Or maybe she forgot.
That last thought sent a strange pang to her chest.
Aiah wasn’t the type to forget dates—especially not this one.
Mikha was usually the one in charge of their monthsary celebrations, making sure everything was planned out, from simple dinner dates to spontaneous getaways.
Aiah would always just show up with flowers, a mischievous grin, and a teasing, "Good thing I have you to plan all these, no?"
It wasn’t that Aiah didn’t care—she did. But their dynamic had always been this way.
Mikha was the planner, the one who made sure their special moments were properly celebrated.
But still… Aiah never once forgot to greet her.
Mikha flopped back onto her bed, staring at the ceiling. She tried to shake off the creeping disappointment, but it lingered.
Was Aiah getting tired of all this?
Was their relationship settling into something routine, something that didn’t need all the little gestures anymore?
She scrolled through her phone, debating if she should just send the greeting first. But something in her stubborn pride held her back.
If she forgot, then fine. I won’t remind her.
Mikha huffed, throwing her phone onto the bed as she got up to start her day.
—
The hours passed, and still, nothing from Aiah.
Mikha was getting restless now, her mind running through every possible explanation. By lunchtime, her frustration had settled into quiet sulking.
Even her assistant, who had been working under her long enough to pick up on her moods, cautiously asked, "Ma'am, are you okay?"
"I'm fine," Mikha answered flatly.
She wasn't fine.
Her fingers hovered over her phone multiple times throughout the day, wanting to text Aiah, wanting to confront her about this sudden shift.
But a bigger part of her wanted to wait—wanted to see if Aiah would eventually remember on her own.
By late afternoon, Mikha had convinced herself that their monthsary just wasn’t important to Aiah anymore.
She buried herself in work, trying to ignore the nagging sadness sitting heavily in her chest.
That was until a message finally popped up on her screen.
Aiah: Baby, are you home?
Mikha stared at the message, biting her lip.
Mikha: Yeah. Why?
Aiah: Can I come over?
A rush of emotions hit her all at once—relief, annoyance, curiosity. But mostly, she just wanted to see Aiah.
Mikha: Okay.
—
When Aiah arrived, Mikha had already decided she wasn’t going to make things easy. She opened the door with her arms crossed, leaning against the frame with a neutral expression. "Oh, you actually remembered I existed?"
Aiah blinked at her, then grinned. "What, no hi baby, I missed you?"
Mikha scoffed. "You didn’t even greet me today."
Aiah’s grin only widened, and that irritated Mikha even more.
She was about to snap at her when Aiah suddenly pulled her in, arms wrapping around her waist.
"Happy 8th monthsary, baby."
Mikha froze. "What—"
"Surprise," Aiah whispered against her ear.
And then Mikha saw it—the way Aiah’s lips twitched like she was holding back laughter, the mischievous glint in her eyes.
"You…" Mikha narrowed her eyes. "You did this on purpose."
Aiah chuckled, tightening her hold. "What? You always plan our celebrations. I wanted to do it this time. And I figured… why not have a little fun while I’m at it?"
Mikha smacked her arm. "You made me overthink the whole day, you idiot!"
Aiah laughed, pulling away just enough to cup Mikha’s face. "I know. That’s why I love you."
Mikha huffed, but she couldn’t stay mad—not when Aiah was looking at her like that, like she was the most precious thing in the world. "You better have a damn good surprise planned, Rivera."
Aiah’s smirk softened into something more affectionate. "Oh, trust me, baby. I do."
—
The ‘surprise’ turned out to be an intimate rooftop dinner at one of the most exclusive restaurants in the city—completely private, with a view that stretched endlessly over the skyline.
Aiah had gone all out, from the candlelit table to the personalized menu featuring all of Mikha’s favorite dishes.
Mikha was still pretending to be mad when they arrived, but it didn’t last long.
"How did you even pull this off?" Mikha asked as she glanced around in awe.
Aiah shrugged, leaning back in her chair with that infuriatingly smug look. "I have my ways."
Mikha rolled her eyes but smiled, finally letting herself relax. "Okay. Maybe you redeemed yourself a little."
Aiah chuckled, reaching across the table to take Mikha’s hand. "I wanted to do this for you. You always take care of everything, and I just wanted you to sit back and enjoy for once."
Mikha squeezed her hand, warmth spreading through her chest. "You’re such an ass for making me suffer all day, though."
Aiah smirked. "Worth it."
Mikha groaned but couldn’t hide the way her heart swelled.
They spent the rest of the evening wrapped in quiet laughter, teasing touches, and soft glances—completely lost in each other.
And as Aiah twirled a glass of wine in her hand, watching Mikha with adoration, she made a silent promise.
Next time, she was going to make Mikha’s heart race even more.
After all, she was Aiah Rivera. And she always played to win.