---Jay's POV — The Hallway Where Everything Broke
The air between us felt like a live wire.
Keifer still had that look — that murderous, possessive, barely-chained fury — and it only made the pressure in my chest worse.
"Jay," he said, voice low. "We're not done—"
I shoved him.
Hard.
He didn't move much, but the shock on his face was enough.
"Oh we're done," I snapped.
"Actually, we were done a month ago."
His jaw locked. "Don't."
"Don't what?" I bit back. "Don't bring up London?"
His eyes flickered — guilt, anger, something dangerous.
"You're drunk," he said, trying to steady himself. "You don't know what you're saying—"
"No," I hissed. "I'm drunk enough to finally say it."
He took a step toward me.
I took a step back.
"You left," I spat. "You left without a word. No 'goodbye,' no explanation — nothing. Not even after Cole—"
My voice cracked, but I swallowed it down.
His fists clenched. "I had—"
"Don't you dare," I cut him off.
"Don't you DARE say you had your reasons. You abandoned us. You abandoned me."
His eyes darkened. "Jay, stop—"
"Why? Because it makes you uncomfortable? Because for once you don't get to control the narrative?"
He exhaled sharply, stepping forward until I was pinned between him and the wall.
"You don't know what you're talking about."
"Then tell me," I whispered, shaking. "Tell me what happened. Why you left. Why you couldn't even send a message."
Silence.
Thick. Heavy. Refusing.
And that hurt more than anything else.
"Yeah," I laughed bitterly. "That's what I thought."
He grabbed my arm — not rough, but not gentle either.
"That's enough."
"No," I said, yanking my arm back. "It's not."
I shoved him again, harder this time.
"What was London, Keifer? What were you doing? Why did you disappear? Why—"
His hands slammed against the wall on either side of me, caging me in.
"I CAN'T tell you!" he snapped.
Something in me snapped back.
"Then get out of my way."
He leaned closer, breaths uneven. "No."
I felt my heart pound against my ribs.
"Move."
"No."
"Keifer—"
Then suddenly
His mouth crashed against mine.
It wasn't soft.
It wasn't sweet.
It wasn't anything that belonged in a high school hallway.
It was fury.
And regret.
And desperation.
And a month of silence detonating at once.
I froze for half a second — because this was the last thing I expected —
then I shoved him away so hard he stumbled.
And before I could stop myself—
I slapped him.
The sound cracked through the empty corridor.
He stood there, breathing hard, cheek red, eyes blown wide.
We stared at each other.
Both shaking.
Both ruined.
"You don't get to leave," I whispered, voice breaking, "and then come back and kiss me like nothing happened."
He stepped forward — slower this time, cautious — like I was something fragile he wasn't sure he deserved to touch.
"Jay…"
Her name sounded like a bruise on his tongue.
"I didn't kiss you like nothing happened."
My throat tightened. "Then what was that?"
He swallowed.
"That was everything I didn't say."
The words hit harder than the kiss.
I blinked fast, furious at the sting in my eyes.
He lifted a hand slowly — hesitant — to touch my cheek.
I slapped it away.
"We're not done," I said.
His jaw tightened again. "Yeah. I know."
We stood there — anger simmering, desire choking, grief vibrating between us.
Broken people in a broken hallway.
And somehow, that felt worse than anything else.
The echo of that slap was still stuck in the air when footsteps approached.
Of course someone had to walk in now.
Yuri turned the corner and froze.
His eyes flicked between my flushed face and Keifer's reddened cheek.
"...I—uh—should I leave?" he said quietly.
I didn't answer.
I just needed to breathe. To think. To escape.
My chest felt too tight. The hallway felt too small. Keifer's stare felt like it was burning into the back of my neck.
"Jay—" he began.
"No."
My voice cracked on the single word.
I hated it.
I shoved past him, ignoring the way his hand twitched like he wanted to grab me again.
I didn't look back.
Not when Yuri murmured something.
Not when Keifer said my name again—soft, low, dangerous.
I walked straight out of the hallway, straight out of the venue, straight past the confused stares near the entrance—
—and into the cold night air.
The second the wind hit me, the tears did too.
Not loud.
Not messy.
Just… stinging.
Silent.
Hot.
Unwanted.
"Why did I—why did I break—"
The words wouldn't come out right. Everything in my head felt scrambled, wrong, overwhelming.
I opened the car door and shut it harder than necessary, gripping the steering wheel until my fingers hurt.
My heart was racing.
My stomach was in knots.
My lips still tingled from that stupid, reckless kiss.
I hated him.
I hated myself more.
I turned the ignition.
The engine roared.
"Fine," I whispered. "Let's outrun it."
My foot slammed on the pedal.
The car shot forward, and the world blurred into streaks of darkness and headlights.
---
Author POV — After She Left
The second the doors slammed behind her, the world went silent.
Yuri cleared his throat. "She's… upset."
Keifer didn't respond.
His cheek stung from her slap, but that wasn't what burned.
It was the look on her face before she left.
The betrayal.
The hurt.
The way she held herself like she'd rather die than let him see she was breaking.
He dragged a hand through his hair, breathing hard.
"Why did she leave alone?"
He didn't mean to say it out loud.
Yuri blinked. "Because you cornered her? Kissed her? Argued with her? Scared her? Pick any."
Keifer's jaw flexed.
"She shouldn't be driving like that," he muttered.
"You think she's driving recklessly?"
Keifer didn't answer.
He already knew she was.
Because he knew her.
He knew how she hid pain behind speed.
How she used movement to outrun emotion.
How she ran when she was hurting too much to fight.
He pressed his palm to the wall she'd been pinned against minutes ago.
It was cold now.
Nothing like the warmth of her breath earlier.
"Keifer…" Yuri's voice softened. "She slapped you."
He exhaled through his teeth. "I deserved worse."
Yuri didn't deny it.
Keifer stepped back, eyes hardening.
He didn't chase her.
He didn't go after her.
He just stood there, jaw clenched, fighting the urge to break something else.
But as the minutes passed, one truth solidified in his chest:
He wasn't over her.
Not even close.
And the way she drove out tonight?
Fast. Alone. Hurt.
It terrified him.
More than he'd ever admit.
JAY'S POV — BREAKDOWN AFTER THE PARTY
The moment Yuri stepped in — wide-eyed, tense, pulling Keifer back by the shoulder — I used it.
The split second of distraction.
I turned, walked out of that hall, and didn't look back.
My heels clicked too loud against the marble, too sharp, too angry.
I didn't care.
The whispers followed me, the echo of that slap burned my palm, and my breath felt too tight in my chest.
By the time I reached the parking lot, my vision was already shimmering.
But I didn't stop.
I slid into my car, slammed the door shut, and the moment the engine roared—
I stepped on it.
Hard.
The speedometer climbed fast — 60, 80, 100 — lights blurring past me like streaks of neon.
Wind hit my face through the half-open window, cold and sharp, but it didn't calm me.
Nothing could.
Not when my heart felt like it was being torn in two.
My fingers clenched the wheel so tight they shook. I could still feel Keifer's hands on my face, still hear him saying my name like it belonged to him.
Still feel how my body betrayed me — melting, leaning, wanting — when I should've walked away.
"Why did I break?"
My voice cracked out loud in the empty car.
Why did I let my guard fall?
Why did I still want him?
Why did one look from him undo months of healing?
Another tear slid down.
I wiped it away furiously, but more came — stupid, hot, endless.
By the time I reached the empty stretch of road outside the city, I finally slowed down, breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps.
And that's when my hands moved on their own — unlocking my phone, hitting the group call button.
"Stella…? David…?"
My voice was barely a whisper.
They picked up almost instantly.
"Jay? Jay what happened?" Stella's voice came first, frantic, loud enough that I could picture her sitting up in some London apartment.
"Hey—hey, calm down, what's wrong? Did something happen?" David added, breathless like he ran to the phone.
And the moment I heard them—
I broke.
The sob ripped out of me so violently I had to pull the car over.
"I— I messed up," I choked, covering my mouth. "I messed up so bad. I saw him. And— and I don't know what's wrong with me. I got angry and—I slapped him and then he— he—" My voice drowned, shaking uncontrollably.
"Jay, breathe," David said gently. "You're okay. Just breathe for a second."
"I'm such an idiot," I cried harder. "I swore I wouldn't let him get to me. I swore I'd never feel anything again and the second he came close— I broke. Why do I still— why do I still—"
"Because you're human," Stella said softly. "Because you loved him. That doesn't switch off like a light."
"It doesn't make you weak," David added. "It makes you real."
I leaned my forehead against the steering wheel, tears dripping down onto my dress, onto my shaking hands.
"I hate this," I whispered. "I hate that he still affects me. I hate that I can't just forget everything he did."
"You don't have to forget," Stella said. "You just have to survive it."
"And you will," David added firmly. "We're with you. Always."
I let out a shaky breath — half cry, half laugh, completely broken.
"I wish you were here."
"We do too," they said together.
Silence settled — warm, comforting, safe — a contrast to the chaos collapsed inside me.
And for the first time since leaving that hall…
I finally let myself cry without fighting it.
Completely.
Honestly.
Painfully.
And I didn't feel alone.Just empty...
KEIFER'S POV — AFTER SHE LEFT
Yuri's hand clamped around my arm.
"Keifer—stop. You're scaring her."
I didn't even hear him.
Not really.
All I saw was Jay's face — tear-stained, furious, hurt — and then the sound of her heels leaving.
Leaving me.
When I finally snapped out of it and tore away from Yuri's grip, she was already pushing through the doors.
"Jay!"
I ran after her.
Down the hallway.
Past the whispering guests.
Through the lobby.
But by the time I burst outside—
Her car was already shooting out of the driveway, taillights cutting through the night like she was running for her life.
Like she was running from me.
My stomach dropped so fast it felt like the ground ripped open under my feet.
I just stood there for a second, chest heaving, hands shaking, watching the spot where she used to be.
Then I cursed under my breath, stormed to my own car and drove.
But not after her — there was no point.
She was gone.
I just needed to move or I was going to explode.
---
I reached home without remembering the drive.
The second I stepped into my room, I shut the door and locked it like I was keeping the world out — or keeping myself from falling apart in front of everyone.
The silence hit me like a punch.
Her voice.
Her slap.
Her eyes.
All replaying in a loop I couldn't escape.
I walked to the cabinet, pulled out a bottle of whiskey and twisted the cap off with more force than necessary. My hands weren't steady.
Not even close.
I took one long, burning swallow.
Then another.
And then I slammed the bottle down so hard the table shook.
I pressed my palms against the wood, head hanging.
"Fuck," I breathed. "Fuck, Jay… why won't you let me in?"
My throat tightened.
No—
Why did I push her so far away?
Why did I leave here ?
Why did I think letting her go would keep her safe when all it did was destroy us?
I paced.
Back and forth.
Like some caged animal drowning in its own mistakes.
Then I grabbed the nearest thing — a glass — and threw it against the wall.
It shattered.
And that was it.
My chest caved in.
My breath broke.
My vision blurred.
I sank down on the edge of my bed, elbows on my knees, hands in my hair.
I didn't cry easily.
I hadn't cried in years.
But right then —I did.
Because for the first time in my life, I was terrified.
Not of enemies.
Not of danger.
Not of death.
But of losing her.
Completely.
Permanently.
Of her looking at someone else the way she used to look at me.
Of her going home with someone else.
Of her letting someone else touch her, love her, belong to her.
Of her never loving me again.
And the worst part?
I had no one to blame but myself.
My voice cracked out, hoarse and raw:
"I can't lose you… not again."
But she was nowhere near me.
And my words hit the empty walls like a confession too late to matter.
I wiped my face with the back of my hand, breathing hard, heart pounding like it wanted out of my chest.
Because this wasn't anger anymore.
This wasn't jealousy.
This was fear.
Real, crippling fear.
The kind that only exists when you realize the one thing you want most in this world…
is slipping through your fingers.
And you don't know if she'll ever come back.
"I can't let this happen. I'm not losing you again my Mrs Watson . You have to listen to me I'll make you listen but I just need that one chance... Please Jay... "