The Un-couple Gxg (MIKHAIAH)

The Classroom Showdown

Aiah had 'accidentally' spilled iced coffee on Mikha's limited-edition K-pop merch shirt. Mikha's revenge? Replacing Aiah's thesis draft with a compilation of cringey TikTok dances. And now, trapped in their literature room with a broken air conditioner, they were about to reach nuclear levels of inis. Aiah glared at Mikha, muttering, 'You're so immature!'

AIAH

"Okay, Aiah, stay calm. Just walk straight, don't make eye contact, and for the love of all that is holy, don't trip". The hallway was basically Mikha's runway – a perfectly lit stage for her designer outfits and flawless hair. And Aiah, in her 'I rolled out of bed like this' look, was definitely not red-carpet material.

Ugh. Why did we have to share the same Literature class? Maybe I should just skip today. No, I couldn't afford to miss another lecture. Okay, deep breaths. Just focus on the door... Literature 101, Room 204. Almost there. Just a few more steps. Don't look left. Don't look right. Don't think about Mikha's perfectly sculpted eyebrows or her designer bag that probably cost more than your tuition. Easy, right? Wrong. Because of course, of course, there she was. Mikha. Leaning against the lockers like she owned the place, surrounded by her posse of equally fashionable friends, all of them radiating an aura of effortless cool that made Aiah want to crawl into a hole and die.

Aiah tried to shrink into herself, hoping to become invisible. Maybe if she walked fast enough, she could just slip by unnoticed. Like a ninja. Or a particularly awkward ghost. But no such luck. Mikha's eyes locked onto hers, and a slow, deliberate smile spread across her face. A smile that said, 'Oh, honey, I see you. And I'm about to make your life a living hell.'

Aiah's heart started to pound. Okay, plan B. Fake it 'til you make it. She straightened her shoulders, plastered a forced smile on her face, and tried to walk with purpose. Like she belonged there. Like she wasn't completely terrified. But as she got closer, she noticed something. Mikha was holding a large iced coffee. Oh, no. This was not going to end well.

And then, disaster struck. Aiah, in her haste to escape, tripped over a rogue backpack that some clueless freshman had left in the middle of the hallway. She stumbled, flailing her arms wildly, and in slow motion, watched as her own iced coffee went flying. Straight towards Mikha.

Oh, sweet mother of pearl. This was going to be epic.

She shrieked, jumping up in front of her locker like she'd been electrocuted.

'Oh my god! My shirt! You did this on purpose, didn't you?!' her eyes were blazing, and I swear, I saw actual steam coming out of her ears. Okay, Aiah, time to play innocent. 'What? No! It was an accident! I'm so sorry!' I grabbed a stack of napkins and started dabbing at the sticky mess, trying to look concerned. But inside, I was fighting back a smile. She looked ridiculous, her perfect hair slightly messed up, her expensive shirt stained with coffee.

"Sorry?! That's all you have to say? This shirt costs more than your entire wardrobe!" She snatched the napkins from my hand and started dabbing at the stain furiously. 'You're going to pay for this, Aiah! You hear me? You're going to regret this!'"

Bring it on, Mikha, I thought, smirking inwardly. This is war. And I was just getting started. I might not have her money or her designer clothes, but I had something she didn't: a wicked sense of humor and a talent for getting under her skin. This was going to be fun. And maybe, just maybe, it would distract us both from the real reason we were still drawn to each other, despite everything that had happened. Yeah, right. Bahala na. Time to escalate this petty war.

MIKHA

The sticky sweetness of iced coffee hit Mikha like a personal insult. One minute, she was basking in the glow of her own fabulousness, the next, she was covered in caffeine and humiliation. Her perfectly limited edition outfit – the one she'd spent hours agonizing over – was now ruined. And the look of smug satisfaction on Aiah's face? Unforgivable. This wasn't just an accident. This was a war.

'Ugh, this is a limited-edition shirt! she wailed dramatically, earning sympathetic gasps from her friends. 'That klutz is going to pay for this!"

Mikha's mind raced, plotting her revenge. What would hurt Aiah the most? Ruining her clothes? Too obvious. Sabotaging her grades? Too cliché. No, she needed something more personal. Something that would strike at the heart of Aiah's insecurity. And then, it hit her. Aiah's thesis draft.

Mikha knew that Aiah had been working tirelessly on her Literature thesis, pouring her heart and soul into the intricate analysis of Philippine poetry. It was Aiah's pride and joy. And Mikha was about to turn it into a laughingstock. With a few clicks of her phone, she could replace Aiah's carefully crafted document with a compilation of cringey TikTok dances. It was petty, mean, and utterly brilliant. A perfect revenge.

A wicked smile spread across Mikha's face. "Don't worry, girls", she said to her friends, her voice dripping with sweet venom. "Aiah's about to get a taste of her own medicine. And trust me, it's going to be bitter."

She pulled out her phone and started searching. She needed something perfectly absurd, something that would contrast sharply with Aiah's serious and intellectual thesis. And then, she found it. A compilation of cringey TikTok dances, set to a remix of a popular K-pop song. It was perfect. Utterly, hilariously perfect.

With a few taps of her finger, she downloaded the file and prepared to execute her plan. She just needed the right opportunity. And she knew, with absolute certainty, that it would present itself soon enough. Aiah was too predictable. Too eager to please. And Mikha was about to exploit every single one of her weaknesses.

The iced coffee was just the opening act. The real show was about to begin. And Mikha was ready to steal the spotlight.

Later that day

The opportunity arose during Literature class, just as Mikha had predicted. Professor Reyes announced that the thesis drafts were due at the end of the day and that students should submit them electronically through the school portal. Aiah, ever the diligent student, immediately pulled out her laptop and began polishing her work, oblivious to the danger lurking nearby.

Mikha casually strolled over to Aiah's desk, feigning concern. 'Hey, Aiah,' she said, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "I just wanted to apologize again for the coffee incident. I was totally overreacting. You know how I get about my clothes."

Aiah looked up, her expression wary. She didn't trust Mikha's sudden change of heart, but she was too polite to call her out on it. "It's okay, Mikha,"she said, her voice slightly strained. "Accidents happen."

Mikha smiled innocently. "So, are you almost done with your thesis? I heard Professor Reyes is really strict about plagiarism. It would be a shame if someone accidentally copied your work..."

Aiah's eyes widened in alarm. "What are you talking about?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly.

Mikha shrugged casually. "Oh, nothing," she said, her eyes glinting with mischief. "Just a friendly reminder to double-check your sources. You know, just in case..."

And with that, Mikha sauntered away, leaving Aiah paralyzed with fear. She frantically began to review her thesis, checking every citation, every quote, every single word. She was so focused on plagiarism that she didn't notice Mikha slipping a flash drive into her laptop when she wasn't looking.

The flash drive contained the cringey TikTok dance compilation. And as soon as Aiah saved her thesis to the school portal, Mikha's little program automatically replaced it with the video. Aiah was none the wiser.

A few moments later, during Professor Reyes' class, the moment of truth arrived. Professor Reyes projected the thesis submissions onto the screen, ready to critique each student's work. Aiah sat in her seat, nervous but confident, eager to hear Professor Reyes' feedback.

But as soon as her thesis appeared on the screen, Aiah's blood ran cold. Instead of her carefully crafted analysis of Philippine poetry, the entire class was treated to a montage of teenagers flailing their arms and legs to a catchy K-pop beat. The room erupted in laughter.

Aiah looked at Mikha, who was sitting in the front row, pretending to be shocked. But Aiah saw the glint of triumph in her eyes. And she knew, with absolute certainty, that Mikha had orchestrated this entire disaster.

You're so immature! This is war. And Aiah is about to fight back.