Chapter 2
Mikhaela Lim was not used to sharing her space. Her condo in Bonifacio Global City was a pristine sanctuary — a reflection of her orderly, controlled life. Everything had its place: sleek furniture, minimalist décor, and not a speck of dust in sight.
But now, her once-immaculate home had an unexpected guest.
Aiah Arceta stood awkwardly in the living room, clutching the overnight bag Mikha had hastily bought for her on the way home from the hospital. She looked around with wide eyes, taking in the towering windows, the polished marble floors, and the city skyline beyond.
"Wow," Aiah whispered, her voice filled with awe. "Ang ganda naman dito."
Mikha crossed her arms, trying to maintain her usual aloof demeanor. "It’s just a place to live."
Aiah glanced at her, a soft smile playing on her lips. "It’s more than that. It feels like... a home."
Home. The word struck a nerve. Mikha had never thought of this place as a home — just a residence. A place to sleep, work, and occasionally unwind. But something about Aiah’s presence made it feel different, almost warmer.
"You can take the guest room," Mikha said curtly, gesturing down the hallway. "Bathroom’s on the right. If you need anything, let me know."
"Thank you," Aiah said softly. She walked toward the guest room, her steps tentative, like she was afraid of disturbing the peace.
Mikha watched her disappear down the hall and exhaled. This was a mistake. She knew it. But she couldn’t bring herself to abandon Aiah, not after what had happened.
Over the next few days, they fell into a strange routine.
In the mornings, Mikha would prepare coffee before heading to her office. She was meticulous about her schedule, always leaving at exactly 7:30 AM. But one morning, she found Aiah already in the kitchen, humming softly as she scrambled eggs.
"Good morning!" Aiah greeted cheerfully. "I thought I’d make breakfast."
Mikha blinked, surprised. "You didn’t have to."
"I wanted to. I figured it’s the least I could do, considering everything."
Mikha hesitated before sitting down at the counter. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and warm eggs filled the air. It was... comforting.
As they ate, Aiah chatted about random things — the weather, the books she found on Mikha’s shelf, the view from the balcony. Mikha listened quietly, occasionally nodding. She wasn’t used to this kind of casual conversation, but she found it oddly soothing.
One afternoon, Mikha came home early and found Aiah on the balcony, sketching in a notebook.
"What are you doing?" Mikha asked, curious.
Aiah looked up, smiling. "Drawing. I found this notebook in the guest room. I think I used to draw a lot... before."
Mikha approached, glancing at the sketches. They were beautiful — detailed, expressive. Aiah’s talent was undeniable.
"You’re good," Mikha said softly.
Aiah blushed. "Thank you. It feels familiar, like something I’ve always loved."
Mikha nodded, a strange warmth spreading in her chest. She didn’t say it out loud, but she found herself wanting to see more of Aiah’s sketches.
Days turned into weeks, and Mikha found herself growing accustomed to Aiah’s presence. Her once-quiet condo was now filled with laughter, conversation, and warmth. It scared Mikha how much she liked it.
One evening, as they sat on the couch watching a movie, Aiah turned to Mikha.
"Thank you," Aiah said softly.
Mikha frowned. "For what?"
"For letting me stay. For taking care of me."
Mikha looked away, her heart pounding. "I told you — it’s my responsibility."
Aiah shook her head. "It’s more than that. You’ve been kind to me, even if you don’t want to admit it."
Mikha didn’t respond. Instead, she stared at the screen, trying to ignore the flutter in her chest.
But deep down, she knew Aiah was right.