"Ding."
It was 11:47 PM. In three hours, it would be Mia’s flight to Singapore. Three years ago, she had left him a voicemail singing the first verse of Especially For You —MYMP’s version, not the original Kylie Minogue. "Softer," she had said. "More real."
Mia smiled. "You finally found the 'Not Angka.'"
Especially for you.
A reply. One word.
He’d never replied. Pride, then time, then regret had built a wall.
At the airport, dawn leaking through the glass ceiling, he found her near the boarding gate. She looked the same, except for the tiredness around her eyes—or maybe that was his guilt projecting.