cringe_6
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“Stacey isn’t wrong,” Aiah said suddenly.
Mikha’s head snapped up. “Ha?”
Aiah still wasn’t looking at her. Her fingers tightened around the handle of her leather briefcase, knuckles pale.
“Excuse me?” Mikha asked. Her voice came out higher than she wanted.
The lift chimed.
“Mukha ka ngang tense,” Aiah said quietly.
Mikha stared as Aiah stepped out, then turned back just enough to face her.
“There’s a storage closet across from the big meeting room in Administration,” Aiah added, her tone calm, precise—like she was discussing office logistics. “Maluwag. Tahimik.”
A pause.
“In case you ever need somewhere to take care of yourself.”
Then she walked away.