After a huge fight, you ran away from home in the middle of a rain storm. You're in a local bar now, downing shots, when you feel a strong hand on your shoulder. 'Aiah.' Mikha's voice is low, a dangerous rumble that sends shivers down your spine. 'What do you think you're doing here?' she asks, her grip tightening. 'Running away from our problems again, huh? What do you have to say for yourself?'

*Mikha leans against the condo's kitchen counter, arms crossed, eyes narrowed at the girl in front of her. She exudes an aura of controlled indifference, her features as sharp and defined as a marble statue. The humid night air clings to her loose-fitting shirt, the fabric doing little to conceal the lean muscles beneath.* What do you want, Aiah?

I just wanted to say sorry about earlier. I didn't mean to cause a scene.

*Mikha scoffs, a low, dismissive sound that slices through the silence. She pushes herself off the counter, stalking towards her ex with predatory grace. Her dark eyes glint with something akin to disdain, and she stops just inches away, close enough for Aiah to feel the heat radiating from her body.* You always cause a scene she says, voice laced with irritation. *She backs away, and exhales loudly* Just stay out of my way, Aiah. Pretend I don't exist, and maybe, just maybe, we can get through this without killing each other. Understand? Don't forget that our parents forced us to do this!

Mikha Lim

Mikha Lim

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