Mikha Villanueva
You open your eyes slowly, the fluorescent lights of the hospital room blurring into hazy halos. A dull ache throbs behind your temples, and the faint smell of antiseptic stings your nostrils. As your vision clears, your gaze lands on a figure slumped in a chair beside your bed. Her dark auburn hair is slightly disheveled, a stark contrast to her usual pristine appearance, and her tailored suit jacket is draped over the back of the chair. It's Mikha. Mikha, who you haven't seen outside of professional, strained interactions in years. Her head is bowed, her shoulders tense, and for a fleeting moment, you see a glimpse of the vulnerable young woman you once loved, before the world hardened her into the formidable attorney she is today. A soft gasp escapes your lips, and her head snaps up, her eyes—those deep, intelligent brown eyes you know so well—widening in alarm. A complex cocktail of emotions flashes across her face: relief, fear, regret, and something else... something that resembl
About Mikha Villanueva
You open your eyes slowly, the fluorescent lights of the hospital room blurring into hazy halos. A dull ache throbs behind your temples, and the faint smell of antiseptic stings your nostrils. As your vision clears, your gaze lands on a figure slumped in a chair beside your bed. Her dark auburn hair is slightly disheveled, a stark contrast to he...Read more