Ang Huling Cha Cha
It had been a long, exhausting year. Every time Aiah thought about the conversation she knew she had to have, the one that would change everything, her stomach turned into knots. The weight of hiding herself, of keeping her love for Mikha in the shadows, had become unbearable. It wasn't just the secrecy—it was the constant fear of rejection from the people who were supposed to love her unconditionally.
The more Mikha pleaded, the more Aiah withdrew. She had promised her that she would come out to her family, that she would finally introduce her as more than just a "friend," but every time Aiah stood on the verge of saying those words, she couldn't do it. The fear of losing her family, the fear of being judged, held her back. It was easier to live in the lie, to pretend like everything was fine.
But it wasn't fine. Mikha's patience was running thin, and Aiah could feel the cracks beginning to form. Their fights had become more frequent, their conversations more strained
For months, Aiah and Mikha's relationship had been hanging by a thread. The love was still there, deep and unwavering, but the tension between them had been growing. Every argument seemed to circle back to the same thing—Aiah's hesitation to come out to her parents. Mikha had been patient, understanding, and incredibly supportive, but even her love had its limits.
"Aiah, please," Mikha would plead, frustration creeping into her voice. "You can't keep doing this. You can't keep hiding me. I'm not just your 'friend' anymore. I'm your girlfriend, and you promised me you'd tell them. You said this Christmas..."
Aiah would wince at the mention of promises. "Sana magkausap tayo, Mikha," she'd say, a familiar sting of guilt weighing on her chest. "I'm trying, okay? I just... hindi ko kaya."
Each time Mikha asked about coming out, the words got stuck in Aiah's throat. She wasn't ready, but it wasn't just that. She was terrified—terrified of losing her family, terrified of the unknown. Every time she thought about telling her parents, a lump would form in her throat. What if they rejected her? What if they disowned her? What if they never looked at her the same way again?
"I just need more time," Aiah would mutter, her gaze cast downward, avoiding Mikha's pleading eyes. "Baka hindi pa sila ready. Hindi ko pa kaya."
Mikha would sigh, her voice soft but hurt. "I've been patient, Aiah. But how long do I have to wait? How long until I matter enough for you to tell them about us? I'm tired of hiding. Tired of being your secret."
It wasn't that Aiah didn't care about Mikha. She loved her—deeply, completely—but it felt like the walls in her life were closing in on her. She was caught between the love she had for Mikha and the expectations of a family that could never understand.
The day came when it all fell apart.
They were sitting in a quiet café, just the two of them, sipping coffee after a long, exhausting week of finals. It was supposed to be a peaceful moment, but the air between them felt thick with unspoken words. Aiah could sense Mikha's unease, the way she kept glancing at her, waiting for something to change.
"Aiah..." Mikha's voice trembled slightly, her hand reaching for Aiah's, but Aiah pulled back instinctively.
"Don't, Mikha," Aiah whispered, her eyes avoiding hers. "Don't make me choose."
Mikha blinked, her brow furrowing. "What do you mean? I'm not making you choose! I just... I just need you to be honest with me. I'm not asking for anything unreasonable, Aiah. I just need you to be brave enough to tell them. You promised me, remember? Christmas. This Christmas, you said you'd come out. But we're days away from the holidays, and nothing has changed."
"I know..." Aiah's voice broke, her throat tight with emotion. "Hindi ko kayang sabihin sa kanila. Hindi ko kayang mawalan sila."
Mikha sat back in her chair, her eyes dark with frustration and hurt. "So ano, Aiah? I'm not enough for you to fight for?"
Aiah recoiled, her heart shattering at the accusation. "That's not it at all," she pleaded, her voice cracking. "You are enough. You're more than enough, Mikha. It's just..."
"Just what?" Mikha interrupted, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. "You're asking me to wait. And wait. And wait. For what? For when it's convenient for you? For when your parents accept us? Do you think I don't know this is hard for you? But I can't keep doing this. I can't keep waiting for a day that might never come."
Aiah's heart twisted. "Mikha, please..." she whispered. "I'm doing my best. I really am."
But Mikha shook her head, her voice firm. "I don't want to wait anymore, Aiah. I love you. I do. But I can't live my life like this—constantly hiding. I need to know that you're ready to stand by me. Ready to stand with me in front of everyone, including your family. Kasi kung hindi..." Mikha paused, tears threatening to spill. "Then maybe we're not meant to be."
The words hung in the air like a heavy fog, suffocating both of them. Aiah opened her mouth to say something, but the words wouldn't come. Instead, she stood up, her heart pounding in her chest, and walked out of the café, leaving Mikha alone.
That night, Aiah couldn't sleep. Her mind kept replaying the argument—the finality of Mikha's words. "Maybe we're not meant to be."
She couldn't understand why it felt like such a betrayal to come out. Why was it so hard to admit what she had known all along? That Mikha was her person, the one she loved, the one she wanted to be with.
Aiah grabbed her phone, hesitated, and then texted Mikha: "I'm sorry. I don't want to lose you."
Minutes passed before Mikha replied, her words filled with sadness but a hint of softness. "I don't want to lose you either, Aiah. But I need you to be honest. I need you to be brave."
The text weighed heavily on Aiah's heart. It wasn't just about her anymore. It was about Mikha. It was about their future together, and Aiah knew she had to make a choice.
2 nights before Christmas, Aiah sat with her parents at the dinner table, the warmth of the holiday cheer filling the house. But she felt cold. The laughter around the table, the cheerful chatter—it all felt so distant to her. Aiah couldn't shake the feeling of impending doom, the crushing weight of the secret she had been keeping for so long. She had to tell them. Tonight.
She stared at her plate, her hands clenched tightly in her lap. Her parents were talking about the usual things—work, family, and the future—but Aiah's mind was elsewhere. The words she needed to say were at the tip of her tongue, but they wouldn't come.
Her mother smiled at her across the table. "Aiah, you've been so quiet tonight. Is everything alright?"
Aiah took a deep breath, her chest tight. It was now or never. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words caught in her throat. "I'm sorry, Ma," she finally whispered, her voice barely audible.
Her mother paused, looking at her with concern. "Anak, what's wrong?"
"I... I need to tell you something," Aiah said, her voice shaking. "Something important."
Her father set his glass down and turned his attention to her. "What is it, Aiah? You know you can tell us anything."
Aiah swallowed hard, her heart hammering in her chest. She could feel the tears beginning to sting at the back of her eyes, but she forced them back. "I'm sorry, Ma. I know this will disappoint you. You must be so disappointed in me..." she trailed off, her voice trembling.
Her mother's eyes softened, her face filled with concern. "Aiah, you're scaring me. What are you talking about?"
Aiah's hands trembled as she clasped them together, the weight of her emotions nearly overwhelming her. "I... I like girls. I'm not like what you expected. I'm not going to marry a man. I have a girlfriend. Her name is Mikha."
The words spilled out in a rush, and as soon as they left her mouth, Aiah felt like the world had stopped spinning. She had said it. It was out there. But the fear didn't go away. It lingered in the air, thick and suffocating.
Her parents stared at her, their faces unreadable. Aiah's heart dropped into her stomach. She couldn't bear the silence. She couldn't bear the thought of losing them.
"I'm sorry," she repeated, her voice breaking. "I never meant to disappoint you. But this is who I am. I love Mikha, and I... I hope you can understand."
There was a long pause before her mother spoke softly. "Aiah..."
Aiah's eyes welled up with tears. She couldn't look at them anymore. She had said it. She had finally said it, but now the fear of rejection felt overwhelming. "I know you must be so disappointed. I know I've let you down."
Her father's voice was gentle when he finally spoke. "Anak, why would we be disappointed in you?"
Aiah looked up, confused. "What?"
Her mother placed a hand on hers, her touch warm and reassuring. "Aiah, we've known for a while. We've seen how you look at Mikha. We've heard you talk about her, and we've seen the way you act around her. We just... we wanted you to tell us when you were ready."
Aiah's heart skipped a beat. "You knew?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Her father nodded. "Of course we knew. We've always known. And we've always loved you, Aiah. No matter who you love."
Aiah blinked, her mind struggling to process the words. "You weren't upset?"
Her mother shook her head, tears in her eyes. "Why would we be upset, anak? We love you. We just wanted you to be happy. And if Mikha makes you happy, then that's all that matters."
Aiah's chest tightened as the flood of emotions rushed in—relief, confusion, and a deep sense of gratitude. "I'm sorry for hiding this from you. I was so scared. I thought you'd... I thought you'd hate me."
Her father smiled gently. "We could never hate you. We love you for who you are, Aiah."
And in that moment, the weight that had been pressing on Aiah's heart for so long began to lift. She wasn't sure why she had feared this moment so much, but now that it was over, all she felt was love. Her family's love.
The next day, Aiah met Mikha at their usual spot by the beach. The sun was rising, casting a soft golden light over the water, and Aiah felt a sense of peace she hadn't known in years.
Mikha turned to her as soon as she arrived, her face lighting up with a smile. "Aiah," she whispered, wrapping her arms around her. "You okay?"
Aiah nodded, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I told them, Mikha. I finally told them."
Mikha pulled back slightly, searching her face for any sign of hurt. "What did they say?"
"They knew," Aiah whispered, her voice shaking with emotion. "They've known all along. And they love me anyway."
Mikha's face broke into a wide smile, and she kissed Aiah softly. "I knew they would."
Aiah closed her eyes, letting the warmth of Mikha's embrace surround her. It was over. She had come out, and not only was she loved by Mikha, but by her family, too. It was the start of a new chapter—one where she no longer had to hide.
And for the first time in a long time, Aiah finally felt at peace with who she was.