Hookup ✓ [MikhAiah] [Book #3]

34

—🐶—

AIRA's POV

The soft click of the door unlocking breaks the silence of my penthouse, and I step out of my room, feeling the dizziness wash over me. The alcohol is finally hitting, and I struggle to keep my footing as I make my way down the stairs. That's when I see her—Miki, standing under the dim light, her fiery red hair catching the glow in a way that almost takes my breath away.

"Miki," I call, and she stops, turning to look at me.

"Hey," she says softly.

I swallow, suddenly feeling vulnerable. "You didn't tell anyone, right?"

She nods before shaking her head. "I didn't. I promised I wouldn't."

Relief mingles with the haziness in my head, and I stumble toward her, my body betraying me as my knees weaken. I reach out, grabbing onto her, burying my face in her chest. My hands grip her tightly as if she's the only thing grounding me. Slowly, her arms come around me, and I let myself fall into her warmth, allowing the silent tears to fall.

But Chase's question from earlier replays in my mind, a nagging whisper I can't ignore. 
Do you know anyone named Aria?

Miki must know something. She has to.

I pull away, wiping my face quickly, feeling like a scolded child. I look up at her, catching the confusion in her eyes. "Say, Miki, do you know anyone named Aria?" I ask, the question slipping out before I can stop myself.

Her expression falters, her eyes widening just a bit before she shakes her head. "No... why?"

I dismiss the question with a shrug, turning away from her and heading for the couch. "Nothing... everything is just complicated right now," I mutter, picking up the scattered papers on the table. The words on the pages blur as I stare at them, a deep sense of unease gnawing at me. "I don't know what to do."

I reach for another beer can, needing something to quiet my mind, but Miki stops me, her hand gently prying the can from my fingers.

"I don't think it's a good idea for you to drown yourself with alcohol," she says gently, her voice soft but firm.

I sink back into the couch, a sigh escaping me. "I'm sorry, Miki," I murmur, the guilt twisting inside me. "I'm sorry I asked you to do that stupid thing with me... that night we—" My voice catches, and I feel fresh tears slipping down my cheeks.

She sits beside me, brushing a stray hair behind my ear. "You don't have to be sorry, Ai," she says. "Like I said, I didn't regret it, and I will never regret it in the future."

Her gaze holds mine, a quiet intensity in her eyes that sends a shiver through me.

Don't look at me like that... I say to myself, shifting away. But her hand hovers over mine, and her voice lowers.

"Aira," she says, her tone almost a whisper. "Tell me what happened."

I glance away, my eyes falling back on the papers. "My father may have lied to me, Miki. For years... he lied, and he made me take these pills that made me forget things." I hand her the prescription paper, watching as her eyes scan it carefully. She stays silent, her brows furrowing.

"Did he tell you why?" she asks finally, glancing at me.

I shake my head. "No, I ran away the moment he got home. I... I may have left a few more papers back there, things that could explain everything."

I get to my feet, legs trembling under the weight of it all. "I'll spend the night here... you should go home, Miki."

I turn to head upstairs, but a sharp headache jolts through my skull, and I stumble. Before I can fall, Miki's arms are around me, steadying me.

"Careful," she mutters, her voice gentle. She holds out her hand, stepping onto the first stair ahead of me. "Here, take my hand."

I reach for her hand, feeling a strange familiarity in the gesture, like a memory flickering just out of reach. The feeling settles in my chest as she guides me back to my room, her presence warm and comforting. This penthouse, so empty and cold, suddenly feels less lonely with her beside me.

As we enter my room, I let go of her hand, making my way to the bed. The city lights spill through the window, casting soft shadows across the room. I sink onto the edge of the bed, staring at my hands.

"It's probably best if I just talk to him, face him about all of this..." I murmur, almost to myself. "I can't hate him forever. I can't hold onto this resentment... he's still my father, the only family I have left."

Miki sits down beside me, her presence calming. "Think about that tomorrow, okay?" She places a gentle hand on my hair. "For now, you should rest."

I nod, but as she stands to leave, my hand reaches out, catching hers. "Stay... just until I fall asleep?"

She smiles, giving my hand a reassuring squeeze. "Sure."

I shift under the covers, her hand still warm in mine. Her presence soothes me, and I feel myself drifting off, her figure a comforting blur as sleep overtakes me. The last thing I remember is her fingers slowly slipping from my grasp.

—🦊—

MIKI's POV

This penthouse, so expansive and quiet, must feel hollow when she's alone. It's no wonder she drinks to fill the silence.

As the door closes behind me, I watch her settle into bed, the city lights painting soft shadows across her face. She stirs, her hand gripping mine, and I stay with her until her breathing slows, her hand falling away as sleep takes over. A small snore escapes her, and I can't help but chuckle softly.

Once she's fully asleep, I stand up carefully, stepping out of her room and closing the door behind me. As I make my way downstairs, my eyes catch the scattered papers on the table. As I stare at the papers in my hand, that name Aria Davis Riley stands out like a beacon, the truth hidden in plain sight all these years. The redacted names, the hospital bills—it all falls into place, and the realization hits me like a punch to the gut.

Chase was right.

Aira is Aria.

Everything we thought we'd lost, everything she'd forgotten... it's her. She's been right here with us this whole time, only she doesn't remember.

The thought of Chase finding out—of Chase being the one to rekindle that bond with her—tightens something inside me. I know it shouldn't matter. I know Chase deserves answers just as much as I do. But a part of me, selfish and scared, can't bear the idea of seeing them together.

I take a deep breath, looking up at the closed door of her room, the soft light filtering from the city outside casting long shadows in the empty penthouse. The weight of the truth presses heavily on me, my fingers gripping the papers tightly.

What am I gonna do?