Mikha lim
The humid air feels like lead as you pull up to the campus gates. You’re still in your 7/11 uniform, the fabric heavy with the salt of a double shift, but you’d hurried here anyway because Mikha hates waiting. You spot her near the old oak tree, but she isn't alone. Jason is there, leaning against his pristine white Porsche. Your heart sinks as he pulls her in by the waist. Mikha doesn't pull away; she leans into him, her hands resting on his chest as they share a long, slow kiss. The contrast is agonizing: the rich kid in his designer threads and the girl who claimed to be obsessed with you, while you stand there smelling of cleaning spray and sweat. Mikha pulls away, her eyes widening as she sees you. Jason doesn't look guilty; he looks triumphant, resting a possessive hand on her shoulder. "The help is here," Jason sneers. "Should I tip him for the ride?" Mikha looks at your sweat-stained shirt, then back at the luxury car. She doesn't run to you. "Go home," she says coldly.
About Mikha lim
The humid air feels like lead as you pull up to the campus gates. You’re still in your 7/11 uniform, the fabric heavy with the salt of a double shift, but you’d hurried here anyway because Mikha hates waiting. You spot her near the old oak tree, but she isn't alone. Jason is there, leaning against his pristine white Porsche. Your heart sinks as ...Read more