Chapter Three: The Morning After
Jay woke slowly, her body sore in ways she hadn't felt before, her limbs heavy against the soft sheets. For a moment, she didn't even open her eyes—too warm, too cocooned in the quiet hum of morning.
Then she shifted slightly, and a strong arm tightened around her waist.
Her eyes flew open.
Keifer.
Her face flushed instantly, remembering the night before—the heat, the way his touch lingered everywhere, the words he whispered against her skin.
"Good morning, Mrs. Watson," his voice drawled, low and teasing, vibrating against her ear.
Jay groaned and buried her face in the pillow. "Don't. Don't you dare."
Keifer chuckled, clearly enjoying her embarrassment. "What? I'm just greeting my wife. Is it my fault if she looks impossibly cute hiding from me?"
"You're insufferable," she muttered, but her voice cracked when he shifted closer, his chest pressing against her back, his lips brushing her shoulder.
"Mm, maybe," he murmured, planting a kiss on the slope of her neck. "But you didn't seem to mind last night."
"Keifer!" she yelped, smacking his arm, her entire face burning.
He only laughed, catching her wrist easily and kissing the back of her hand. "Relax, Mutya. I'm not teasing to embarrass you. Just reminding you that you survived me."
Jay peeked at him from the pillow, her lips twitching despite herself. "Barely."
The smirk softened into something gentler. He shifted so he could see her properly, his thumb brushing her cheek. "Hey. Are you okay? I mean… really okay?"
Her chest tightened at the seriousness in his tone. The boy who used to be all sharp edges and arrogance was looking at her like she was the most fragile, precious thing in the world.
"I'm fine," she admitted softly. "A little sore. But… fine."
Keifer kissed her forehead, lingering. "Good. Because last night wasn't about… you know. It was about us. About proving that even when it's scary, even when it's new, we can trust each other."
Jay swallowed hard, her heart swelling at the way he said it. She reached up, brushing her fingers against his jaw. "You're… way too sweet in the mornings. I almost don't recognize you."
"Almost?" His grin returned, boyish and smug. "You're saying I'm still hot either way?"
She groaned again, smacking him with the pillow this time. "I take it back. You're unbearable"
Keifer caught the pillow and tossed it aside, pinning her gently back onto the bed, his body hovering above hers with that dangerous sparkle in his eyes. "Too late. You're stuck with me. And just for the record—" he kissed her nose, soft and quick—"I like you better like this. Hair a mess, cheeks pink, wrapped up in my arms."
Jay rolled her eyes, but her lips betrayed her, curving into a small smile.
"Stop staring at me like that," she muttered.
"Like what?"
"Like I'm your… everything."
Keifer's smirk melted completely. He kissed her slowly, deeply, with none of the heat from last night—only warmth, reverence, love.
"Because you are, Mutya," he whispered against her lips. "And no matter what—last night, today, tomorrow—I'll take care of you. Always."
Jay exhaled, sinking into him, realizing that for once, there was nothing to fight. No need to run.
Because Keifer Watson wasn't just her husband now.
He was home.