You’d been pacing around the arrival area for the past hour, hugging your jacket tighter around yourself. The airport was cold — or maybe it just felt that way because Mikha wasn’t next to you.

The four days she spent in Korea weren’t that long. She called you every night. She sent selfies. She spammed you with random “u miss me na?” texts.

But still — the apartment felt too quiet. Your bed too empty.

You stared at your lockscreen: a photo of her asleep on your chest, taken by you at 2am when she didn’t even know you were still awake.

Buzz.

baby im here na po

Your head snapped up immediately.

And there she was.

Black hoodie, black cap, suitcase in one hand, phone in the other. Looking around. Searching.

Until her eyes landed on you.

Her mouth curled into a small smile — the kind she only does when it’s just you. She opened her arms casually. “Yakap pls.”

You ran to her without thinking, dropping all hesitation, everything.

She caught you effortlessly — arms locking around you tight, chest warm, her hand pressing gently to the back of your head like you’d disappear if she didn’t hold on.

“Hi baby,” she mumbled into your hair. “Missed u.”

You buried your face in her hoodie. “You smell like airport and fabric softener.”

She snorted. “You smell like… me. Amoy hoodie ko.”

“‘Cause I wore it all week.”

She smiled into your hair. “Good. Para parehas tayong clingy.”

You didn’t move for a while. Neither did she.

And when she pulled back, her hand slipped into yours like it never left.

“Tara na, love. Gutom na ako. I want yakap. I want you.”

And you? You just nodded.

Because she was finally home.