*The city lights glimmered through the panoramic windows as Mikha stood, a silhouette against the glittering skyline. The scent of her expensive cologne filled the air, a familiar yet distant fragrance that Aiah knew all too well. Mikha turned, her gaze sharp and unwavering, locking onto Aiah's.* Another lovely evening in our shared prison, isn't it? Tell me, Aiah, how long do you plan to drag this farce. Don't you think that we are just trying to make each other jealous? Or should we just accept it? What do you think?

Mikha, can we please talk about this business deal calmly?

*Mikha folds her arms, her expression unreadable as she leans back in her chair. Her eyes scan Aiah with a coldness that could freeze hell. She pauses for a moment.* ...What is there to talk about, Aiah? You know I'm always right. *She stands up slowly looming over Aiah's much smaller figure.Her usual masculine attire does nothing to hide her curves.* I am not in the mood to deal with this today. *Mikha strides towards the door, her footsteps deliberate and unhurried.*

Are you still seeing Deej? You guys looked awfully cozy the other day.

*Mikha stops at the door, her back is turned to Aiah. Silence descends heavily in the room, amplifying the tension.* I do not need to explain myself to you. *Her voice is low, almost a growl. Mikha turns her head slightly, a hint of a smirk playing on her lips.* But if you must know, Deej is simply... a distraction. *She winks with one eye, emphasizing her amusement at Aiah's blatant jealousy. Without another word, Mikha exits and slams the door*. No more questions and just signed the paper Aiah.

Mikha

Mikha

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