Proposal
1st Anniversary.
It still amazed Mikha how fast the time had gone. From high-stakes meetings and cold stares to lingering glances and late-night calls… to now.
It was early in the morning when Mikha woke up to nothing. No message. No call. No clingy Aiah sending three long messages about their anniversary before the sun even rose.
And that was odd.
They had a tradition—every monthsary, no matter how busy they were, they’d always message each other right at midnight or first thing in the morning. Even if it was just a "Happy x months, baby," it was a sacred little ritual between them.
But today?
Nothing.
Mikha sat up in bed, brows furrowing. Maybe Aiah overslept?
But no—Aiah never forgot. Not when it came to her.
The minutes stretched. Then hours. Mikha even texted a casual “Good morning”, hoping to bait a reply.
Still nothing.
By lunch, Mikha was pacing her condo, overthinking everything.
Did she forget?
Was she mad?
Did something happen?
But just as she was about to call, her phone buzzed.
Happy 1st, baby. Meet me at 5. Wear something comfy. No heels. Don’t ask why. Just trust me.
Mikha stared at the screen, torn between relieved and mildly offended. She wanted to yell, You made me think you forgot!
But of course, this was Aiah. The same girl who once sent a bouquet to her office with a card that said “Because you said tulips were boring. Here’s ten.” Just because she was annoyed Mikha didn’t like flowers.
So Mikha dressed in a hoodie, sneakers, and loose jeans—grumbling and curious—and followed the address Aiah sent.
It led her to the same rooftop they’d spent so many memorable nights on.
When the elevator doors opened, Mikha froze.
Soft lights floated above her like stars, strung along the railing and wrapped around a few potted plants. The floor was scattered with throw pillows and soft rugs, and in the center of it all was Aiah—hair loose, hoodie hanging off one shoulder, holding two paper cups of hot chocolate and smiling like she hadn’t just given Mikha a mild emotional breakdown that morning.
“You’re so dramatic,” Aiah teased the moment Mikha stepped out. “You really thought I forgot?”
Mikha glared. “I was spiraling.”
Aiah laughed, walking up and handing her a cup. “Happy anniversary.”
Mikha took it, lips twitching despite herself. “You're evil. This was all a prank, wasn’t it?”
“Consider it payback for last monthsary,” Aiah said smugly. “You made me think you forgot on our eighth.”
“I was building up a surprise!”
“So was I.” Aiah gestured to the setup. “Ta-da.”
It was simple. Quiet. But so very them.
There was no grand event, no crowd, no extravagance. Just them, city lights below, and their favorite songs playing softly in the background.
They sat together, sipping hot chocolate, watching the sun dip below the buildings in silence for a while.
Then Aiah leaned in, her voice quieter. “I know we’re not perfect. We bicker, we’re both too stubborn, and we still work way too much.”
Mikha chuckled. “True.”
“But,” Aiah continued, reaching for her hand, “I’ve never felt this grounded with anyone else. I used to be all about power and control, but you—” her eyes softened, “you’re the only person who’s ever made me want to slow down.”
Mikha squeezed her hand. “You’re still a control freak.”
“And you still steal the blanket.”
They both laughed, leaning against each other.
After a beat, Aiah reached into her pocket and pulled out a small box—not velvet, not fancy, just something plain and simple.
Inside was a matching pair of silver rings—minimalist bands engraved with one word inside: Always.
Mikha’s breath caught.
“No proposals,” Aiah said quickly, suddenly nervous. “Not yet. Not rushing anything. But… I wanted us to have something.”
She slipped the ring onto Mikha’s finger, and Mikha did the same.
No cameras. No speeches.
Just a quiet moment between two women who had fought through rivalry, pride, and every wall they built around themselves—only to find something real on the other side.
They laid back on the pillows, hands intertwined, hearts full.
And in that calm, ordinary night, under fairy lights and the whisper of wind, everything felt just right.
_________________________________
2nd Anniversary.
The morning sun filtered through the blinds, casting golden stripes across Aiah’s bed. She stirred slowly, blinking away the last traces of sleep before reaching for her phone—only to find a sticky note pressed onto her screen.
“No need to rush. Just pack a bag. Casual fits, one formal dress, and something cozy. I’ll pick you up at 10. Happy 2nd anniversary, baby.”
—M
Aiah blinked. “What the hell...?”
She sat up, groggy but intrigued. The sticky note felt like Mikha—smooth, mysterious, and infuriatingly vague.
Two years.
Two years of banter, passion, fights, making up, stolen kisses in crowded rooms, and loving each other through the chaos of the corporate world. And now, Mikha had clearly taken the reins this time.
Just like she promised.
**
Aiah was already outside her place by ten sharp, suitcase in hand, a thousand scenarios playing in her head. Was it just a getaway? An out-of-town trip? Or was Mikha planning something more extravagant?
The sound of a car door unlocking pulled her from her thoughts. Mikha stepped out of a sleek black SUV, dressed in a white linen blouse and light-washed jeans, her hair tied back casually. She grinned the moment she saw Aiah.
“Happy anniversary,” she said, opening her arms.
Aiah walked straight into them, wrapping her arms around Mikha’s waist. “So, where are you taking me?”
“You’ll see when we board.” Mikha kissed her cheek and helped with the suitcase.
“You know I hate surprises, right?”
“Nope. You love my surprises.” Mikha smirked. “Especially the ones that involve you getting spoiled.”
Aiah scoffed, but she was already smiling.
**
The airport revealed the surprise: Rome, Italy.
Aiah turned to Mikha, her jaw slack. “You’re kidding.”
“Nope. Two years deserves a change in scenery.” Mikha winked. “Besides, I needed an excuse to see you in flowy dresses walking through cobblestone streets.”
Aiah laughed, trying to hide the way her heart flipped in her chest. “You’re lucky I love you.”
“I know.”
**
They arrived in Rome by late afternoon, checking into a boutique hotel near Trastevere—a quiet, charming neighborhood filled with ivy-covered buildings, cafes, and warm-toned alleyways.
Their first evening was spent exploring hand in hand, stopping for gelato, window shopping at small artisan boutiques, and snapping candid photos under golden streetlights.
Mikha led Aiah to a rooftop restaurant she had reserved in advance. The view overlooked the Tiber River, the city glowing under the soft hues of twilight.
As they settled into their table, Mikha pulled out a small, leather-bound journal.
“What’s that?” Aiah asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Our memory book,” Mikha said. “I started it after our first anniversary. I’ve been writing in it each month.”
Aiah’s eyes widened, heart softening as she took it. Flipping through the pages, she found snippets of their journey—little notes, doodles, dried flower petals, plane tickets, even silly receipts from late-night takeout.
“You did this?” Aiah whispered, voice thick with emotion.
Mikha reached across the table, taking her hand. “I never want to forget the small things with you.”
Aiah stared at her, lips parting, but no words coming out.
She didn’t need to say anything. Mikha already knew.
**
The rest of the trip was a dream.
They visited the Colosseum, took photos at the Spanish Steps, and threw coins into the Trevi Fountain together—Mikha insisting they each make a wish but never revealing hers.
“Mine already came true,” she had whispered when Aiah pressed.
They danced to street music, stayed up late talking on the hotel balcony, and wandered the Vatican museums in comfortable silence, admiring art that had lived far longer than any love story—and yet, somehow, theirs felt just as eternal.
**
On their last night, they returned to the rooftop restaurant for a final dinner.
Mikha handed Aiah a tiny velvet box, eyes shining.
“Don’t freak out,” she said. “It’s not a ring.”
Aiah arched a brow, half-laughing, half-nervous. “Then what is it?”
Inside was a dainty gold bracelet, engraved with a single line:
“Still choosing you. Every day.”
Aiah closed her eyes, a soft breath escaping her lips. When she looked up again, her expression was gentle, full of everything words couldn’t say.
She leaned forward, cupping Mikha’s face with both hands.
“I will never get tired of loving you,” she whispered.
Mikha kissed her slow and deep, the lights of Rome flickering around them like quiet witnesses.
Two years.
And it still felt like the beginning of forever.
_________________________________
3rd Anniversary.
Aiah and Mikha didn’t need much discussion this time — it was almost instinctual. For their 3rd anniversary, they chose to go back to the place where it all started: La Union. The beach. The breeze. The sunset. And that unforgettable first kiss that changed everything between them.
They arrived in the early morning, greeted by the familiar sound of crashing waves and the salty air. It felt like déjà vu — but this time, it was more intimate, more grounded. No more hiding. No more rivalry. Just love.
“Feels weird being back here, doesn’t it?” Aiah said as she dropped her bags in the cozy beachfront hut they rented.
Mikha smiled as she looked around. “Weird, but in the best way. Full circle vibes.”
They spent the day doing everything and nothing — swimming in the morning, sunbathing under a huge umbrella, stealing kisses when no one was looking (and also when people were), and teasing each other every chance they got.
“You’re so clingy today,” Mikha laughed when Aiah kissed her neck while she was applying sunscreen.
“Well, you’re the one who wore that two-piece bikini. You know that’s my weakness,” Aiah smirked.
As the sun began to set, they found themselves sitting on a large flat rock near the edge of the beach, waves gently lapping close to their feet. It wasn’t crowded, just peaceful — the kind of quiet that made everything feel more intimate. Mikha leaned her head on Aiah’s shoulder, their fingers intertwined, warm and steady.
“I could sit here with you forever,” Aiah murmured, looking out at the horizon painted in gold and blush.
Mikha smiled, tilting her face up to hers. “Then let’s stay until the stars come out.”
Aiah turned to her, brushed a strand of hair from Mikha’s cheek, and kissed her softly — slow and sure. Then she pulled back just enough to whisper, “Still the best decision I ever made.”
Mikha raised a brow. “Hm? Sitting here with me?”
“Nope. Loving you,” Aiah said, tucking Mikha’s hair behind her ear. “Every single day.”
It was perfect. Until—
“Hey, Mikha?” a familiar voice called.
Both of them turned to see Denise walking along the shore with another woman, holding hands.
Mikha stood up and smiled. “Oh, hey Denise. Small world.”
“Right? I didn’t expect to see you guys here,” Denise said, then motioned to the woman beside her. “This is Ria, my girlfriend. Ria, this is Mikha and Aiah — legends in the business world.”
“Nice to meet you,” Ria greeted them warmly.
“Nice to meet you too,” Aiah replied with a polite smile, her hand subtly reaching for Mikha’s and gripping it just a little tighter.
They made small talk for a few minutes, light and casual, before Denise and Ria continued their walk down the beach.
Once they were out of earshot, Mikha turned to Aiah. “Okay, spill. I know that look.”
“What look?” Aiah tried to sound nonchalant.
“That look that says ‘I’m jealous but I refuse to admit it.’”
Aiah groaned. “Fine. Maybe I was. Just a little. I mean… she used to like you. It’s valid!”
Mikha laughed and pulled Aiah closer by the waist. “It’s valid. But still unnecessary. You’re the one I’m with. You’re the one I love. You’re the only one I want tomorrow, next year, forever, and besides she has a girlfriend now. No need to be jelous, ok?"
That shut Aiah up real quick. She just melted right into Mikha’s arms. Mikha kissed her gently, slow and warm, while the sky behind them turned pink and orange.
They ended the night with a candlelit dinner by the shore, barefoot in the sand, drinking wine and feeding each other bites of grilled seafood and mango float. Someone strummed an acoustic guitar nearby, but to them, the only music that mattered was each other’s laughter.
“Three years,” Mikha whispered, her fingers intertwined with Aiah’s.
Aiah smiled. “And it still feels like the beginning.”
“Let’s keep starting over. Every day.”
_________________________________
4th Anniversary.
It started with the late replies. Then missed calls. Then rescheduled dates.
Aiah tried not to think too much of it at first — she knew how demanding Mikha’s job could get when things piled up. She herself had been buried in meetings that sometimes dragged into the night. But lately, Mikha’s excuses had turned cold. Mechanical.
“Sorry, I can’t call tonight, babe. Deadline’s brutal.”
“Meeting ran over again. I’ll make it up to you.”
“Can we move dinner to next week?”
Weeks passed. And the “next week” never came.
What hurt more was that Mikha didn’t even seem to notice how distant she’d become. Aiah tried to smile through it, tried to rationalize it — “She’s tired, she’s stressed, she’s just focused” — but each time she tried to reach out, she felt like her hands were passing through smoke. Mikha was drifting.
And Aiah? She was starting to spiral.
One night, curled up in bed alone, Aiah stared at the glow of her phone screen. No unread messages. No missed calls.
She whispered into the darkness, “Is she falling out of love with me?”
She hated herself for even thinking it. But love, when left unspoken for too long, starts to echo with doubts.
Even her friends started noticing the shift.
“She’s probably just busy,” Maloi offered gently over coffee.
“She better not be taking you for granted,” Gwen muttered, arms crossed.
“You talked to her about it?” Colet asked.
Aiah nodded. “I tried. She said everything’s fine… but it doesn’t feel fine.”
The fourth anniversary was approaching, and for the first time in years, Aiah didn’t feel excited. She felt anxious. Heavy. Like there was something slipping between her fingers and she didn’t know how to hold on to it.
They hadn’t even made plans. Not a word about it. Not from Mikha. And Aiah didn’t want to be the only one to bring it up again. Not this time.
—
Mikha was still unreachable.
Aiah found herself sitting alone in their favorite café — the one with the mint green walls and tiny succulents on each table. Her laptop was open, but she couldn’t focus. She kept rereading the same sentence on a proposal.
She scrolled through their old messages, trying to find warmth in the emojis, the sweet good morning texts, the endless banter. But even those felt like someone else’s memories now.
She sighed and typed, "Can we talk soon?" Then deleted it. Typed again. Deleted.
“Pathetic,” she muttered under her breath.
She looked out the window. Rain had started to fall — light at first, then steadily heavier. It matched the weight in her chest.
That night, she went home to her condo — empty, sterile, too quiet. She turned off all the lights, crawled under the covers, and tried not to cry.
—
Aiah didn’t hear from Mikha the entire day.
She finally broke. She dialed her number, heart pounding. It rang once. Twice. Three times—
“Hey, it’s me,” Mikha’s voice said from the voicemail. “Leave a message.”
Aiah hung up without saying anything.
She sat in the dark for a long time, phone clenched in her hand. Then she whispered to herself, voice cracking, “I think she stopped choosing me.”
What Aiah didn’t know was that while she was sitting in silence, Mikha was pacing nervously outside a two-story house fifteen minutes away.
A house she bought.
A house she designed every corner of, every detail, for Aiah.
Her hands were shaking. The keys jingled in her palm. She had been finalizing the papers, checking the interiors, talking to contractors, arranging furniture — all of it in secret.
Because Mikha didn’t just want to celebrate an anniversary.
She wanted to give Aiah a forever.
And tomorrow, Aiah was going to find out.
—
Aiah wasn’t expecting anything anymore.
She woke up on their fourth anniversary with a hollow ache in her chest — not because she had forgotten, but because it felt like Mikha had. There were no morning messages, no call, not even a simple greeting. Just silence, like the days before.
She stared at the empty screen of her phone for a while, her thumb hovering over Mikha’s name. She wanted to reach out, wanted to say “Happy anniversary,” but something in her stopped her. Maybe pride. Maybe fear.
Or maybe it was the quiet grief of loving someone who seemed too busy to notice anymore.
She got up, forced herself through a shower, got dressed, and headed to her office — because what else could she do? Sit at home and wait for something that probably wasn’t coming?
She wasn’t even halfway through her second cup of coffee when her assistant peeked in.
“Ma’am, someone’s here to pick you up. She said it’s urgent.”
Aiah blinked. “She?”
The assistant smiled faintly. “She didn’t give a name. Just said to come with her. She looks familiar though.”
Curious — and maybe a little annoyed — Aiah stepped out. And there, standing near the elevator in a simple white blouse and jeans, was Sheena.
“Mikha’s friend?” Aiah asked, puzzled.
Sheena just smiled, almost knowingly. “Happy anniversary, Aiah.”
“What is this?”
“Just… come with me.”
They drove in silence, Aiah growing more confused with every passing turn. They weren’t heading to any restaurant she recognized. Not a venue. Not a hotel.
And then the car slowed.
They were in a quiet, upscale residential area — peaceful, tree-lined streets, modern homes spaced apart with private driveways. Aiah looked out the window, frowning.
“Where are we—?”
Sheena stopped the car and turned to her with a smile. “Go inside. She’s waiting.”
Aiah stared out at the house in front of them. It was beautiful. Two stories. Soft beige walls. Wooden accents. A small porch with hanging plants. It didn’t feel grand. It felt… warm. Like a home.
Like something Mikha would build.
With a pounding heart, she stepped out of the car.
As she reached the front gate, she saw Mikha — standing there nervously, holding something in her hands. A small, black velvet box and a set of keys.
“Mikha…” Aiah breathed.
“Hey,” Mikha said, her voice soft. She looked anxious, unsure. “Happy anniversary.”
Aiah stared at her. “What… is this?”
“I know you’ve been hurting,” Mikha started, her voice cracking slightly. “I know I’ve been distant. And I hate that I made you feel like you weren’t being chosen. Like I wasn’t… present. But I need you to know, Aiah, it wasn’t because I was pulling away.”
She stepped forward and placed the keys gently in Aiah’s palm.
“It was because I was building this.”
Aiah blinked, stunned. “You… built this house?”
“I’ve been working on it for months. Every late night. Every missed call. Every stupid excuse. I wasn’t good at hiding how overwhelmed I was trying to keep it a surprise. But I wanted this to be perfect. I wanted to give you something real. Permanent. Not just flowers or a dinner or a weekend trip. I wanted to give us… a home.”
Aiah’s chest rose and fell quickly, breath hitching. “You… you did all this for me?”
“For us,” Mikha corrected, her voice shaking. “I was terrified, you know. That I’d lose you while trying to give you the one thing I’ve always dreamed of with you. But I thought… if I could just hold out until today, maybe you’d understand.”
She took a step closer. “So, I need to ask… can I show you our home?”
Aiah nodded wordlessly, eyes glossy, throat tight.
—
Mikha guided her inside. The scent of fresh wood and new beginnings lingered in the air.
The living room had soft neutral colors — beige, warm grays, and touches of forest green. A cozy couch faced a sleek entertainment setup, and near the corner, there was a low bookshelf, already filled with some of Aiah’s favorite titles. A record player sat beside it, playing a slow, instrumental version of “Can’t Help Falling in Love.”
“You remembered my dream reading nook,” Aiah whispered.
“Of course I did,” Mikha smiled.
They walked through the dining area — wood and white tones, with pendant lights hanging above a four-seater table. Mikha paused in front of the kitchen island and tapped the counter.
“You once said, ‘If we ever live together, this is where I’ll cut your fruits every morning.’ So I made sure the kitchen was open like you wanted.”
Aiah bit her lip, fighting back the tears.
Mikha opened a door nearby. “Laundry room. Because you said if we live together, I’m not allowed to mix whites and colors again.”
A small laugh escaped Aiah’s lips.
They climbed the stairs slowly. The master bedroom had floor-to-ceiling windows, soft curtains flowing gently from the breeze. There was a balcony outside.
“I picked this spot because I wanted you to have the morning light,” Mikha said. “You love waking up to it.”
Then Mikha took her hand again and led her to the last room. It was smaller. Cozier. The walls were painted a soft blush.
“This is your music room,” Mikha said quietly. “I remembered how you said you wanted a place just for your piano and journals. Somewhere quiet.”
Aiah stepped in slowly, her throat catching. In the corner sat a white upright piano. A blank notebook rested on top.
“I didn’t know what kind of chair you’d want yet, so I left that part for you.”
And that broke her.
Aiah turned, eyes welling, and walked into Mikha’s arms. She buried her face into her neck, letting the tears fall freely now. Mikha held her tightly, pressing a soft kiss to her temple.
“I thought I lost you,” Aiah whispered shakily. “I thought… you stopped wanting me.”
“God, no.” Mikha pulled back to look at her, brushing away the tears on her cheek. “I never stopped wanting you. I just wanted to build something you’d never doubt again.”
They stood there for a long time, arms wrapped around each other, breathing each other in — the warmth, the weight, the relief.
—
As the sun dipped lower outside the balcony, casting everything in a golden hue, Mikha led Aiah back downstairs.
On the kitchen counter now sat a small cake — simple, round, with white frosting and a gold number “4” candle. Beside it was a single white rose in a glass.
“Okay, maybe I still got the flowers,” Mikha teased.
Aiah laughed, wiping the last of her tears. “You remembered everything.”
“I remembered you.”
They sat on the floor of their new living room, sharing forkfuls of cake, their hands still intertwined.
“So… we live here now?” Aiah asked softly.
“If you want to,” Mikha said. “It’s ours. Everything here is ours.”
“I want to.”
Mikha smiled. “Then welcome home, Aiah.”
And Aiah leaned in, kissed her — deeply, lovingly — and whispered against her lips, “Still the best decision I ever made.”
_________________________________
5th Anniversary.
(Flashback 1)
It was the night of their third anniversary — technically a few days after the real one because both of them were swamped with meetings. Mikha had arranged a rooftop dinner under fairy lights, full catering, and a solo violinist playing one of Aiah’s favorite ballads.
The view of the city lights was stunning, the table set with roses, and Mikha had even rehearsed a speech. She checked the ring box in her pocket for the tenth time.
Everything was perfect.
Until the sky decided it wasn’t.
Right when they were about to toast their wine, thunder rolled overhead.
Aiah blinked. “Was that…?”
Mikha’s eyes widened. “No, no, no—”
CRASH.
Rain poured suddenly, violently, knocking over centerpieces and soaking the cloth-covered table in seconds.
Aiah screamed, laughing and running under the nearest overhang. Mikha stood frozen under the storm, ring box still in hand, completely drenched.
“Mikha, are you okay?!”
“Y-Yeah,” Mikha said, forcing a smile and hiding the box quickly. “Just… didn’t expect the sky to break up with me tonight.”
She kept the ring tucked away that evening.
(Flashback 2)
Mikha’s second attempt was meant to be spontaneous. She and Aiah had flown to Cebu for a weekend trip, and Mikha figured — what better way to propose than during a welcome-home moment?
She coordinated with a few airport staff to cue a soft instrumental track when Aiah stepped out from the baggage claim, then she would appear with a “Will You Marry Me?” sign. Colet, who flew back earlier, would be filming the whole thing.
Except…
Aiah’s flight was delayed.
Then the baggage carousel broke.
And when she finally emerged — sweaty, grumpy, and dragging a broken suitcase — Mikha was nowhere to be found.
Why? Because security had mistaken the sign for a protest banner and escorted her outside for questioning.
By the time she explained and got back in, Aiah had already gotten in a cab.
“Abort mission,” Mikha texted Colet. “I look like I was detained. This is not romantic.”
(Flashback 3)
The third try was more personal.
Mikha thought: Why not propose during a family dinner? Surrounded by both of our parents, best friends, everyone we love?
She asked for Gwen and Jhoanna’s help — they were supposed to casually cue a speech and hand her the ring at the right time. The dinner went smoothly, everyone was relaxed, the food was great, and Aiah was glowing.
Then…
Jhoanna accidentally spilled red wine all over Aiah’s dress.
“OH MY GOD—AIAH I’M SO SORRY!”
Aiah rushed to the bathroom, followed by Colet and Sheena with wipes and towels.
Meanwhile, Gwen passed the ring to Mikha — who immediately dropped it under the table.
Everyone froze. Even Mikha’s dad ducked to help her find it.
When Aiah returned, slightly damp and no longer glowing, Mikha smiled weakly.
“Everything okay?” Aiah asked.
“Yeah,” Mikha mumbled. “Just… indigestion.”
(Flashback 4)
After so many flops, Mikha tried going the opposite direction — simple. No lights, no music, no wine. Just a quiet night in their shared home, curled on the couch watching reruns of Crash Landing on You.
They were wrapped under one blanket, Aiah’s head on her shoulder, popcorn half-eaten.
Mikha held the ring in her hand, hidden beneath the blanket. She turned slightly, kissed the top of Aiah’s head.
“Hey,” she whispered. “What if I asked you something?”
“Mmm?” Aiah mumbled, not looking away from the screen.
“What if I asked you to spend forever with me?”
Still not looking, Aiah replied, “I already do, babe.”
Mikha paused. Her hand closed around the ring box again.
And maybe that was enough — just for tonight.
—
The day had passed in a blur of ordinary tasks: a couple of meetings, a few phone calls, and a quiet afternoon spent working together, like any other day.
But tonight was different. Mikha had spent the entire afternoon in the kitchen, despite Aiah’s teasing protests about how Mikha could never cook as well as she could.
But Mikha had insisted, wanting everything to be perfect, even if it meant cooking a meal that might not live up to Aiah’s standards.
To her, the effort itself was what mattered — this was a moment they would both remember for the rest of their lives, and she wanted it to be as personal, as meaningful as possible.
Aiah was in their bedroom, doing something she’d grown accustomed to in their life together: working late on her laptop.
She was always driven, always so focused on her work. Mikha admired her for it, even though she often wished Aiah would take time to just stop and breathe.
Tonight, though, she wanted Aiah to focus on the two of them, to forget about deadlines and tasks and all the distractions of the world.
The house, though modest, was warm and cozy. The curtains were drawn to let in the soft golden light of the setting sun, casting a gentle glow on everything inside.
The soft hum of the city outside was distant, a gentle reminder of how different their world felt in these quiet moments at home.
Mikha had dimmed the lights, setting the scene for something intimate — just the two of them.
Everything was simple: a modest table set for two, a few candles flickering softly, and the faint scent of a home-cooked meal wafting through the air.
Mikha took a deep breath, steadying herself.
She had wanted this to be perfect, but more than that, she wanted it to be real — to reflect everything they’d been through together, and everything they had yet to experience.
She walked into the bedroom, her heart pounding in her chest. She found Aiah sitting at the desk, her brow furrowed in concentration, her fingers typing away on her laptop.
Mikha paused for a moment, watching the woman she loved, taking in the way the soft light illuminated Aiah’s face. This woman, who had once been her rival, had now become the person who was everything to her.
Every day with Aiah felt like a new adventure, a new discovery.
Mikha cleared her throat softly, stepping into the room. Aiah looked up, her eyes meeting Mikha’s, her lips curling into a smile. “What’s this?” Aiah asked, her voice light, clearly unaware of Mikha’s intentions.
“I was thinking,” Mikha began, her voice soft but filled with a tenderness that Aiah immediately noticed. “I’d like us to have a quiet evening tonight. Just us. No distractions.”
Aiah raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. “What are you up to?”
Mikha chuckled nervously, her heart hammering even harder now. “Nothing, really. Just… a quiet dinner. I thought it would be nice for once.”
Aiah looked at her with a mix of surprise and suspicion, but she stood up from her desk, closing her laptop and following Mikha to the dining area.
The table was set simply but beautifully, with soft candles casting a warm glow across the room. The smell of food lingered in the air, and Aiah immediately felt the quiet intimacy of the setting. She glanced at Mikha, her expression softening. “You really went all out for this, didn’t you?”
Mikha nodded, feeling a little embarrassed by how much effort she had put into this moment. “I wanted to make tonight special. For us.”
Aiah smiled warmly. “It’s already special, Mikha. Just being here with you.”
Mikha’s heart fluttered. She had never imagined she could love someone so deeply, so fully. But with Aiah, it was different. Aiah had shown her a love she never thought she deserved, a love that had transformed her in ways she couldn’t explain. It had been a journey — a long one — full of ups and downs, but Mikha had never been more sure of anything in her life.
They sat down together, and the conversation flowed easily between them. They talked about everything and nothing — their day, their work, the little moments that had made them laugh. But as they ate, Mikha could feel her nerves creeping in. This wasn’t just any dinner. This was the moment she had been waiting for, the moment she had spent weeks, no, months, planning for.
When dinner was finished, Mikha stood up to clear the plates, but Aiah gently stopped her. “Let me do it,” Aiah insisted with a playful smile. “You’ve already done so much.”
Mikha hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Okay,” she said softly. “But can we just sit for a moment first? I need to tell you something.”
Aiah looked at her curiously, sensing the shift in Mikha’s tone. She nodded and sat back down at the table. “Of course. What’s on your mind?”
Mikha took a deep breath. Her hands were trembling slightly, and she placed them on the edge of the table to steady herself. She had imagined this moment a thousand times, but now that it was here, her mind was racing.
“Aiah,” Mikha began, her voice quiet but full of emotion. “These past few years… I’ve been through so many things I never thought I would. I’ve faced challenges I didn’t know how to deal with. But then, you came into my life. You made me feel things I never thought possible.”
Aiah’s heart skipped a beat. She was beginning to realize what was happening, but she didn’t want to jump to conclusions. She simply watched Mikha, her gaze soft and loving.
“You’ve been my support. My constant. In the highs, the lows, the quiet moments and the chaotic ones… you’ve been there. And I’ve learned, more than anything, that with you, I am home. You are my home.”
Mikha took another deep breath, her voice cracking slightly. “I don’t need grand gestures. I don’t need fancy trips or huge celebrations. What I need is you. For the rest of my life. And I want to make that promise to you.”
She reached into her pocket, pulling out a small box. It was simple, no diamonds or extravagant designs — just a silver band, plain and beautiful, just like their love. Mikha opened the box and placed it in front of Aiah, her eyes filled with vulnerability and love.
“Aiah,” Mikha whispered, her voice trembling. “Will you marry me? Will you spend the rest of your life with me, in this home, in our lives, no matter what comes?”
Aiah stared at the ring, her eyes wide with emotion. For a moment, the world around them seemed to fall away. It was just Mikha, and it was just her. This was the person she had dreamed of spending forever with.
Tears welled up in Aiah’s eyes as she slowly reached for Mikha’s hand. “Yes. Yes, Mikha, of course I will. I want nothing more than to spend the rest of my life with you.”
Mikha smiled, her heart finally finding peace as she slid the ring onto Aiah’s finger. It was simple, but it felt like everything. It felt like the start of forever.
They stood up, and Mikha pulled Aiah into her arms, holding her close. Aiah rested her head against Mikha’s chest, feeling the steady beat of her heart. “I love you,” Aiah whispered.
“I love you,” Mikha murmured back, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of Aiah’s head. “More than you’ll ever know.”
And in that quiet moment, in their humble home, they made the promise of forever — a promise built not on grand gestures, but on the quiet, steady love they had for each other. Their love story was simple, but to them, it was everything.