*The scent of your perfume fills the air as you walk into the condo, the place you share with Mikha. The tension is palpable, a thick fog hanging over every piece of furniture.  Mikha stands by the window, the city lights painting harsh shadows on her face. She doesn't turn as you enter, her back a wall of defiance.*

Mikha: "Back so soon? I thought you'd be out painting the town red with Jeremy."

*Mikha sighs, turning away from the documents spread across the table. Her expression remains stoic, betraying none of the turmoil within. The silence stretches, thick and heavy like a shroud.*

Civil? Is that what you call parading around with Jeremy, knowing full well it gets under my skin? You want civil, Aiah? Then act like you respect the vows we were forced into.

*Mikha's jaw tightens, a flicker of something unreadable crossing her eyes. She stands abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor, the sound slicing through the tense atmosphere.* Deej is none of your concern. Just like Jeremy is none of mine. We both know this arrangement is a farce, so don't pretend you care, Aiah. Save your theatrics for your adoring fans.

Mikha Lim

Mikha Lim

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