Jay-Jay's POV
The moment I open the door, I regret it.
Keifer stands there—too close, too warm, too familiar. His chest rises once, sharply, like he's been holding his breath for years and finally found oxygen.
"Jay-Jay…" he whispers, voice low, raw, dangerous. His hand lifts to my jaw, cupping it so gently it feels like a confession. "Just say it. Whatever it is. I'm right here."
My throat tightens.
My lips betray me—they tremble.Because the words are stuck behind ribs that never healed.
"Keifer…" My voice cracks. "I— I left because…"
His thumb strokes my cheek once.
"Because what, sweetheart?"
I suck in a breath that slices me from the inside.
"Because I saw something."
He freezes.
His hand goes still. His eyes widen the slightest bit—barely noticeable to anyone who isn't cursed with knowing every detail of him.
But I notice.
Oh, God.He knows exactly what I'm talking about.
Keifer's POV
She saw it.
She saw it.
I feel the world tilt, but outside, I force myself to stay steady. She's shaking, hurting, barely standing—and somehow she's still the one trying to be brave.
"…saw what?" I ask even though I already know.
Jay steps back, chest heaving like the air is too heavy for her lungs. I instinctively step forward, but she raises a hand—just enough to make me stop.
That tiny gesture hurts more than a blade.
"My study," I whisper before she can continue. "You went into my study?"
She nods, a small, broken motion.Her lashes lower.Her breath fractures.
And for the first time in years, something cold pierces me—fear.
Not fear of losing her.
Fear of what the file made her believe.
"Jay…" My voice cracks. "No."
Jay-Jay's POV
The hallway spins.
I'm cold everywhere except where his hand touched me—ghost warmth lingering on my skin like memory refusing to leave.
"I didn't mean to go in," I whisper. "I swear, I didn't. The door was open and… and I just… I just wanted to see you."
A pathetic, humiliating truth.
His eyes soften. "Queen—"
"Don't," I breathe out, shaking. "Please don't call me that. Not right now."
His jaw tightens. Not with anger—with something much worse. Hurt. Fear. Regret. A storm that looks like my name.
"What did you see, Jay-Jay?" he asks quietly. "Tell me."
I look away.
I shouldn't say the word.I shouldn't even breathe it.That file was never mine to see.
But it destroyed me.
"Your study…" My voice turns small again. "The night before New York."
His shoulders tense—just barely—but enough.
He knows.
"That file," I whisper. "The one with my name."
He closes his eyes.
Like he's been waiting years for this moment… and dying dreading it.
Keifer's POV
A thousand memories punch through me.
Her walking into my mansion that night.Her lingering in the hallway.The study door—damn it—left slightly open because I was too distracted by her scent, her laughter, her presence.
She found the file.
She wasn't supposed to.
Not then.Not like that.
I take a slow step forward, hand lifting on its own, wanting to touch her, hold her, pull her into me before she disappears again.
But she flinches back—not in fear.In shame.
Like she stole something.
"Jay," I whisper, voice breaking for the first time in years, "you don't understand—"
"I understand enough," she chokes out.
"No." My voice sharpens, low and urgent. "You don't."
Her eyes lift to mine—red, glassy, trembling.
"Keifer… after I saw that… I couldn't stay."
Her words punch straight into my ribs.
I feel it—the guilt, the regret, the panic, the urge to grab her and bring her back through time, back before she ever saw anything.
Back before she ran.
"Sweetheart…" I whisper, taking her hands gently even as she tries to pull away. "Listen to me—"
She shakes her head, tears falling silently.
And I break.
Truly break.
Jay-Jay's POV
He's too close.
Too tender.
Too much.
"Why didn't you tell me?" I whisper. "Why didn't you say anything?"
His hands tighten around mine—not enough to trap me, just enough to keep me from falling apart.
"Because I wanted to protect you," he breathes. "Because you were already hurting. Because that night, you were carrying too much."
"I deserved the truth," I whisper.
"You deserved peace," he whispers back.
And something inside me shatters.
"You thought hiding it would give me peace?" My voice cracks. "Keifer, that file—what I saw—"
He steps closer, forehead almost touching mine.
"Jay-Jay," he whispers, "that file wasn't something you were meant to face alone."
My breath stumbles.
"Then why did you keep it?"
His eyes soften in a way that makes me want to collapse.
"Because I never wanted you to blame yourself," he whispers. "Not for that. Not ever."
Keifer's POV
The air around us thickens.
Her lips tremble.
Her breath is uneven.
She's seconds away from saying it—what she thinks the file meant, what she carried alone, what poisoned her enough that she left the country without a goodbye.
I step even closer, brushing my thumb across the back of her hand.
"Jay…" My voice strains. "Sweetheart. Tell me. Tell me what you thought. Tell me what broke you."
Her chin trembles.
Her eyes fill again.
"Keifer…" she whispers, voice so fragile it nearly kills me.
I lean forward, heart in my throat.
"Yes?"
She swallows, shaking violently.
"There's something I need to tell you."
The world stops.
Every muscle in my body locks.
I stare at her—my girl, my past, my future—while dread climbs up my spine like ice.
"What did you do, Jay-Jay?" I whisper.
Her eyes widen in fear.
Her lips part—
And then she breaks.
But she doesn't speak.
Not yet.
Not tonight.
Jay-Jay's POVI swallow hard. My throat feels like it's lined with shards.
"Keifer…" My voice is barely a whisper. "Do you remember that night? The night before I left?"
He doesn't answer.He just… looks at me.Like he already knows.Like he's been waiting years for me to bring this up.
I pull in a shaky breath.
"I went to your house," I say softly. "To tell you goodbye."
Keifer's jaw tightens.His fingers twitch—like he wants to reach for me, but knows he shouldn't yet.
"You weren't home," I continue. "Your car was gone. The house was quiet. And I thought… I thought maybe it was better that way. Less painful."
He flinches.A barely-there movement, but I see it.
I look down at my hands.
"So I waited for a minute. Tried to write a note. Failed. And then… I walked toward your study."
A breath escapes me—shaky, uneven.
"The door was open."
Keifer closes his eyes. Just for a second.Like the memory physically hurts him.
I keep going, because stopping would break me.
"It was strange," I whisper. "Your study door is never open. You always keep it shut."
His eyes lift to me—haunted.
"Jay…" he murmurs. "Please… don't do this to yourself."
But I can't stop.
"I walked inside," I say, my voice thin. "And the file was just there. On your desk. With my name on it."
His entire body stiffens. His shoulders rise, breath held hostage.
I look away.
"I shouldn't have opened it. I know that. I know that now. But back then… I was desperate. Confused. And I thought—" my voice cracks, "—I thought you left it there for me."
Keifer shakes his head urgently."No. Jay-Jay, no. I would never—"
"But I did open it," I whisper."And I read the notes. Your notes."
My heartbeat pounds in my ears as I repeat the words that have haunted me for years.
" 'I don't know how to tell her.' "
Keifer's eyes close again—longer this time, like the sentence guts him.
" 'I need to be careful.' "
His breath shudders.
" 'What if she spirals again?' "
My voice breaks halfway through the last one.
There.The sentence that ruined everything.
His hand presses to his forehead, like he's in pain.
"Jay…" he breathes. It's not even a word—it's a wound.
I force myself to continue even though my lungs feel bruised.
"I thought… you were scared of me."
He instantly looks at me—sharp, devastated, horrified.
"What?" His voice cracks. "Jay-Jay, no—"
"I thought," I choke, "that you were scared of my past. Scared of what happened. Scared of… me."
He takes a slow step forward.
But I take one back.
And it hurts him more than the memories.
I see it.The way his chest caves.The way something inside him breaks.
"I thought I'd ruin you," I whisper. "I thought loving me would destroy you. And you… you were writing notes about being careful, about me spiraling again, about not knowing how to tell me something."
Keifer's voice comes out raw.Bare.Almost angry—but not at me.Never at me.
"Jay, those notes were not—Those weren't about being scared of you."
I shake my head, hugging my elbows.
"Then what were they?"
He opens his mouth—then closes it.He looks away, his throat bobbing.
He's choosing his words.He's trying not to break me.
And that hurts too.
I whisper, "Tell me. Tell me now."
His voice is thick.Wrecked.
"I was trying to figure out how to tell you… the truth," he says. "About your childhood. About what really happened. About the incident."
My stomach drops.My knees almost buckle.
"You—" My breath catches. "You knew?"
Keifer lifts his eyes to me.Slowly.Guiltily.Lovingly.
"Jay… sweetheart… I knew everything."
The room tilts.My heartbeat stutters.
"You knew," I repeat, voice trembling, "and you never said anything?"
"Because it wasn't my place to tell you," he whispers. "And because I didn't want to hurt you. I didn't want to trigger you. I didn't want to watch you fall apart again. I was terrified—not of you—but of failing you."
My throat closes.
Keifer steps closer.This time, I don't move.
His voice softens.Breaks.
"I wasn't scared of you," he says. "I was scared for you."
Something in me shatters.
He takes a shaky breath.
Keifer's POV
Seeing her standing there—small, shaking, broken because of a misunderstanding I never even realized existed—it feels like someone is dragging knives across my ribs.
"You thought I was scared of you?" I whisper.
Jay doesn't answer.She just stares at the floor, eyes glossy, shoulders trembling.
God.It kills me.It absolutely kills me.
"Jay-Jay…" I take her hand gently, slowly, giving her enough time to pull away if she wants to.
She doesn't.
Her fingers curl weakly around mine.
"My notes weren't about leaving you," I say quietly. "They weren't about doubting you. They were about protecting you."
Her eyes lift to mine—wide, fragile, breaking.
Protecting her.And in the process, I ended up hurting her worse.
"I didn't know how to tell you," I whisper, "because I knew it would destroy you. I knew it would make you blame yourself all over again. And I couldn't—Jay, I couldn't watch that happen."
Her lips part.A soft sound escapes her—pain or relief or both.
"And the 'spiraling' note?" she asks.
I swallow.
"That was about me," I admit. "Not you. I spiral when you're hurt. When you collapse, I fall twice as hard. I didn't want you to see that. I didn't want to make you feel responsible for my emotions."
She stares at me—shocked.
I squeeze her hand.
"My notes were messy. Confused. Emotional. But they weren't fear. They were love."
A tear slips down her cheek.
I wipe it with my thumb.
"And I'm so sorry you ever thought… that you could ruin me." My voice breaks. "Jay-Jay, loving you is the only thing that has ever made sense to me."
She exhales—a broken, relieved, aching sound.
But she doesn't step back this time.
She steps closer.Close enough that her forehead touches mine.
"Keifer…" she whispers. "I left because I thought I was protecting you."
I close my eyes.
"And I stayed," I whisper back, "because I thought I was protecting you."
The room is silent.
Just our breaths.Our hurt.Our love.Our years of misunderstandings finally colliding.
And then she whispers—
"Keifer… I didn't know."
And I answer—
"I know, sweetheart. I know."
Her "I didn't know…" is still echoing in my chest when the silence settles between us again.Not heavy.Not angry.Just… full.Full of ten years of wounds neither of us touched.
I keep holding her hand because I'm terrified that if I let go, she'll disappear again.
She lifts her eyes slowly—red, glassy, shining like she's standing on the edge of another breakdown—and whispers:
"Keifer… I thought you were scared of me."
The sentence hits harder the second time.It slams into the deepest part of me, the part that still remembers the night she vanished.
My jaw tightens. "Jay… how could you ever think that?"
She doesn't speak.
She doesn't need to.Her silence is already an answer—years of fear, guilt, wrong conclusions piled into one broken girl who thought she was protecting me.
I exhale unsteadily.
"Sweetheart… scared of you? Of you?" My voice comes out quieter than I intend—raw, disbelieving. "Jay, the only thing that's ever scared me in this world… is losing you."
Her breath hitches.
But she still can't look me in the eye.
God.That hurts more than anything.
I take a small step closer, slow enough not to startle her.
She doesn't step back this time.She just stands there, trembling, waiting for the truth she's never let herself hear.
"You saw that file," I say softly. "And you thought I was… afraid of your past."
Jay nods, just once, tiny, like she's ashamed to even admit it.
My chest caves.
"No," I whisper. "Jay-Jay… no. You got it wrong. All of it."
Her lips part a little, but no sound comes out.
I gently lift my hand, brushing a tear from her cheek with my thumb.
Those tears… I caused them without even knowing.That alone could break me.
"I wasn't investigating you," I say. "I wasn't trying to understand you like you were some kind of problem I needed to solve."
Her eyes flicker up at me—hope and fear tangled painfully together.
I continue, voice steady but thick:
"I was trying to understand how to protect you."
Her entire body goes still.
"Protect… me?" Her voice is small. Fragile.
"Yes."I step closer again, close enough that I can feel her uneven breaths against my shirt."Jay, I didn't know what happened to you. But I knew something did. I saw signs. Patterns. Triggers. And every time something set you off, you tried so hard to hide it from me."
Her chin trembles.
"I wasn't scared of your past," I whisper. "I was scared that you were dealing with it alone."
For a moment, neither of us moves.
Her tears fall silently.
My heart feels like it's being torn open.
I reach out and gently—slowly—rest my hand on her waist.She lets me.
That tiny permission nearly undoes me.
"I wrote those notes because I didn't know how to reach you without breaking you," I confess. "I didn't know the right words. Your triggers scared me—because they meant you were hurting and I didn't know how to take it away."
Jay's breath stutters.
She looks at me like she's seeing the truth for the first time.Like no one has ever told her she deserved that kind of care.
Her voice wobbles."Keifer… I thought I was ruining you."
My throat burns.
"You leaving," I whisper, "was the only thing that ruined me."
Her eyes widen—hurt, disbelief, shock all crashing together.
"I thought leaving would protect you," she breathes.
"And I thought staying would protect you," I answer.
Our foreheads touch.
The air between us vibrates with everything unsaid.
"I wasn't scared of you, Jay," I whisper again, because I need her to understand. "I wasn't scared of what happened to you. I wasn't scared of what you carried."
My fingers slide up to cup her jaw, gently guiding her eyes to mine.
"I was only scared of failing you."
Her hand rises shakily and rests against my chest, right over my heartbeat.
And when she whispers, "Keifer… I didn't know how wrong I was,"my heart breaks in the gentlest, softest way.
Jay-Jay's POV
His words sink slowly into me like warm water—like something my bones have been thirsty for.
He wasn't scared of me.He wasn't scared of my past.He wasn't writing notes about how to run from me.
He wrote them because he loved me too much and didn't know how to help.
I cover my mouth, voice shaking."Keifer… I'm so sorry."
He shakes his head immediately, thumb brushing my cheek.
"No. No apologizing. You were hurting. You didn't know. And I…" His voice cracks softly. "I should've told you sooner."
His forehead presses to mine again—his breath warm, grounding.
"This misunderstanding," he whispers, "Jay… this is what broke us."
My chest caves.
Because it's true.
One mistake.One assumption.One file left on a desk.
And ten years of heartbreak followed.
I swallow, voice trembling."So everything I thought… everything I believed…"
"Was wrong," he answers gently. "All of it."
He cups my face.Soft. Careful. Steady.
"Sweetheart," he breathes, "you were never going to ruin me."
I choke on a sob.
"And leaving… leaving was the only thing that ever did."
His words dissolve something inside me—a shield I've held for a decade.
I exhale shakily, nodding like the world is finally clicking into place.
And when he whispers—
"Jay… just stay this time."
I break.
Completely.
Keifer's POV
Jay is still crying.
Quiet tears—shaking tears—the kind she tries to hide by looking down, but I see every single one of them.
And I swear, if guilt could kill a man, I'd already be gone.
I take a half-step closer, slow enough that she can stop me if she wants.
She doesn't.
Her breath quivers, but she stays. That alone… God, that alone feels like she's trusting me with something sacred again.
Softly:
"Jay… look at me."
She hesitates.
Then she does.
Those eyes—swollen, terrified, hopeful—are the most fragile thing I've ever held without touching.
My voice comes out low, steady, but breaking at the edges.
"I was never scared of you."
Her breath catches, like she wasn't ready to hear it out loud.
I keep going, because I need her to understand this down to her bones.
"And your past?" My chest tightens. "It wasn't a burden. Not once. Not for a second."
A tear rolls down her cheek.
She tries to speak, but her voice cracks, so she just shakes her head helplessly.
I move closer again—slow, deliberate—my hands hovering near her face but not touching yet.
"You weren't going to destroy me."
Her shoulders flinch.
"You weren't going to trigger my trauma."
Her lips tremble.
"You weren't going to break me, Jay."
She crumbles a little at that one.
My hands finally reach her cheeks—gentle, careful—and she leans into the touch before she even realizes it.
"And you sure as hell weren't someone I needed to be careful with," I whisper.
Her eyes finally meet mine again.
Wet. Shining. Miserable.
"B-but your notes—" she whispers, voice shaking. "You wrote—"
"Jay," I interrupt softly, closing the tiny distance between our faces, "those notes were about me. Not you."
She blinks.
Confusion. Hurt. A small, scared hope.
I swallow, thumb brushing the tear that's sliding toward her jaw.
"I didn't know what I was doing," I admit quietly. "I didn't know how to help you without accidentally touching something that would hurt you."
Her lips part, breath shuddering.
"I was scared," I whisper, "but not of you."
Another tear rolls down her cheek. I catch that one too.
"I was scared of doing the wrong thing," I continue. "I was scared of being clumsy with your pain. I was scared I'd say something that would push you deeper into whatever you were fighting."
Her knees wobble.
My hands instinctively move to steady her—one on her jaw, one hovering near her waist, careful not to overwhelm.
"You thought those notes meant I doubted you," I say, voice soft, raw. "But they meant I doubted myself."
Jay freezes like she's hearing an entirely new language.
"So…" Her voice is small. "Everything I thought… everything I believed…"
"Was wrong," I whisper. "Completely wrong."
I cup her face fully now, both hands warm against her skin, holding her gently like she's something precious.
"Baby…" The word slips out, broken. "You thinking you didn't deserve me… you thinking you'd ruin me… you thinking leaving would protect me…"
My voice cracks.
"That was the only thing that ever broke me."
She sobs—quiet and painful.
"Keifer…" She shakes her head. "I'm sorry— I didn't know— I—"
I press my forehead to hers.
Warm. Close. Real.
She gasps a tiny breath, like the contact steals her strength.
"You never had to be perfect with me," I whisper. "You never had to hide. You never had to leave to save me."
Her tears are falling faster now.
I close my eyes.
"Jay… you just had to stay."
Her breath stutters violently, like the words hit a place inside her she's kept locked for years.
She whispers my name again. This time it's not desperation—it's breaking.
I pull in a slow breath, steadying myself because if I don't anchor both of us right now, we're going to drown in all of this.
"I would've chosen you," I murmur. "Every day. Even on the days you thought you were too much."
I lift her chin gently so she keeps looking at me.
"You weren't too much, Jay. You were hurting. And I should've met you there."
Her hands tremble as they lift—shaky, uncertain—and rest on my chest.
Right over my heartbeat.
My throat tightens.
"Jay," I whisper, "I wasn't scared of your trauma. I was scared of you facing it alone."
Her lip quivers.
And then… she breaks again.
Jay-Jay's POV
His forehead stays pressed to mine.
His hands hold my face like I'm something he's afraid to lose again.
And his voice… his voice keeps unraveling everything I believed for ten years.
"I wasn't scared of you…""You weren't going to ruin me…""You just had to stay…"
God.
Every sentence feels like it's stitching together a wound I never let heal.
My voice comes out barely there.
"Keifer… I thought leaving was protecting you…"
His eyes shutter painfully.
And he whispers—soft, devastated:
"Jay… the only thing I ever needed saving from was losing you."
My breath catches.
My chest caves.
Because for the first time in ten years, I finally understand how wrong I was.
He brushes his thumb along my cheek again—gentle, patient, warm.
"Sweetheart," he whispers, "you were the safest place I ever had."
My knees weaken.
He steadies me immediately.
I look at him—really look—and for the first time…I let the truth sink into me.
He didn't fear me.
He feared failing me.
And that changes everything.
My voice is barely a breath.
"Keifer… I don't know how to come back."
His hands tighten around my waist, pulling me closer—not forcing.
Inviting.
"Then let me meet you halfway," he whispers.
I inhale sharply.
Because the distance between our lips is suddenly… nothing.
His breath mixes with mine.
My heart slams.
And his next whisper shatters me:
"Just don't run again… my girl."
I close my eyes.
And fall into him.
Keifer's POV
Jay is still in my arms, breath ghosting unevenly against my throat, her tears warm against my shirt. The room is quiet—too quiet—like even the air is holding its breath.
She's fragile.
Too fragile.
But she's here.And I will not let her drown in the past again.
I brush a tear off her cheek with my thumb.Her lashes flutter.She looks guilty. Sad. Small.
I can't let her stay in that place.
So I inhale softly and murmur, "Sweetheart… you're scrunching your face again."
She blinks. "What?"
I give her my best unimpressed look. "You know. That little 'I hate myself' expression you make. The one that makes me want to grab you and wrap you in a blanket like an angry burrito."
Her mouth falls open—offended, shocked, flustered.
"Keifer—" she sputters. "I don't— I never— I don't scrunch!"
"There," I lean in, smirking, "you're doing it right now."
Her eyes widen. "I am not!"
"You are," I whisper.
A tiny spark of irritation lights in her eyes—the perfect distraction from her tears.
I tap her nose gently.She swats my hand away.
"Stop doing that," she mutters.
"No."I tap her nose again.
She glares. "Keifer, I swear—"
"There she is," I murmur, smiling, "my girl. I missed that tone."
Her cheeks flush.
She looks away, but my fingers slide under her chin and guide her face back to mine.
"You can look at me, Jay," I whisper. "Especially if you're about to yell at me. I enjoy that."
Her jaw drops again.
"K-Keifer!"
I grin wider. "What? I'm just telling you what I like."
Her blush darkens—beautiful, warm, alive.
The heaviness between us starts to crack open, replaced with something softer, teasing, familiar.
She finally mutters, "You're annoying."
"Yes," I say proudly. "And you still love me."
Her breath stumbles.
I watch her throat work, her eyes dart away again.
She's flustered.
God, she's adorable when she's flustered.
I step closer—close enough that our noses almost touch.
"Say it."
"Say what?"
"That you love me. Even if you want to strangle me half the time."
She chokes. "Keifer!"
I grin. "There she goes again."
She smacks my shoulder lightly—barely anything—but I catch her wrist mid-air and tug her gently toward me.
She gasps as her body lands against my chest, palms flattening over my shirt.
Her eyes go wide.So do mine.
Heat pulses between us—sharp, instant.
Her breath brushes my lips.
And suddenly her flustered expression melts into something deeper.Softer.Needier.
"Jay…" I whisper.
She whispers back, "You're impossible."
"And you're shaking," I murmur, brushing her hip with my thumb.
"I'm not—" she begins.
"You are," I breathe against her mouth.
Her breath falters.
We're close.Too close.Almost kissing close.
So close I can feel her heartbeat jumping against mine.
And then—
She blurts under her breath: "You're such a cocky—"
I cut her a sharp look.She freezes.
"Jay-Jay."My voice drops low.She knows that tone.
She swallows. "What?"
"What's the rule?" I murmur.
Her lips part, guilt flickering across her face.
"No profanity."
"That's right."
"I— I didn't mean—"
"You did." I step closer, my mouth brushing her cheek. "And you broke the rule."
She stares at me, breathless.
"So I guess," I whisper, "I'll have to punish you."
Her eyes go huge."Keifer—!"
I kiss her.
Not softly.Not carefully.
Just enough to shut her up.
Her fingers clutch my shirt instantly, pulling me closer as a small, shocked sound escapes her throat. I smile against her lips and kiss her again—slow, coaxing, teasing—until her knees wobble.
She breaks away only to gasp, "Th-That wasn't a punishment."
"Oh?" I smirk. "Should I try something else?"
Her face flames red. "Keifer!"
Before she can push me, I grab her waist and spin her gently, pinning her lightly against the wall—my arms bracketing her in.
Her breath catches hard.
Her fingers curl against my chest, gripping me like she's afraid to fall.
"I'm not done teasing you," I whisper.
She gives a tiny, shaky smile through the leftover tears.Her first real smile of the night.
It steals my breath.
"You're smiling," I murmur, brushing her cheek with my knuckles. "God, sweetheart… that smile could destroy me."
She blushes deeper, hiding her face—but I catch her chin.
"No hiding," I whisper. "Not from me."
Her eyes lift slowly.
And then—The shift happens.
Something heavy melts.Something deeper rises.
Her hands slide up my chest slowly, hesitantly… until her fingers curl around the back of my neck.
Jay never touches first.
But she does now.
Her voice is barely a whisper."Keifer…"
My control snaps.
I don't wait.I don't ask.I kiss her.
Fully.Completely.Finally.
Her mouth opens against mine with a tiny, helpless gasp, and I take advantage, deepening the kiss until she's pressed completely into me, her fingers tightening in my hair.
She kisses back like she's starving—like she's been waiting ten years for this moment.
I groan softly into her mouth, the sound breaking between us as our lips move faster, hungrier, hotter. Her hands slide down my shoulders, then clutch my shirt as if she's afraid I'll disappear.
I grip her waist, pulling her firmly against me.Her body arches into mine, warm, trembling, needing.
She whispers my name against my mouth—"Keifer…"—a breath, a plea.
I kiss her harder.
Her back hits the wall gently, and she whimpers softly into the kiss, fingers tugging at my hair as her lips part for me again.
Heat surges through me.Through her.
This isn't a soft kiss.This isn't hesitation.This is ten years of love and longing finally breaking free.
I kiss her until she's breathless.Until I'm breathless.Until the only sound in the room is her soft, desperate gasps between my lips.
When I finally pull back—barely, an inch—her lips are swollen, her eyes half-closed, her breath shaking against my jaw.
She whispers, voice wrecked, "Keifer… don't stop."
I rest my forehead against hers, breathing her in.
"I'm not stopping," I whisper. "Not this time."
Her fingers slide across my jaw, her eyes shining.
And for the first time in ten years—she's not running.She's not hiding.She's not breaking.
She's choosing me.
Choosing us.
I kiss her again—slow, deep, full of everything I never got to say—and her soft, trembling breath sinking into my mouth as our bodies pull impossibly together.
Jay-Jay's POV
His forehead rests against mine, his breath trembling against my lips, and for a second I forget how to stand. My fingers clutch the fabric of his shirt like it's the only thing keeping me upright. Maybe it is.
Keifer's hands—warm, steady, familiar in a way that terrifies me—stay on my waist as though he's unsure whether he's allowed to hold me or whether I'll vanish again.
I don't move away.
I haven't felt this close to anyone in ten years.I haven't let myself.
And now he's right here… chest rising against mine… heartbeat thundering… whispering my name like a prayer he's been starving for.
My throat tightens with something messy and raw.Something I don't want to run from this time.
His thumb sweeps across my cheek again, slow enough to make my pulse stutter.
"Jay…" he murmurs, voice rough, "look at me."
I do.
And God—the way he's looking at me makes my stomach drop straight through the floor.
Like he's memorizing me.Like he's afraid to blink.Like losing me once already carved something into him that still hurts.
He leans in just a little—barely a breath.I can feel the warmth of his lips.Not touching.Just there.
My entire body buzzes.
I try to breathe. I really do.But the air between us is too thick, too warm, too full of everything we never said.
"Keifer…" The whisper breaks before it even forms.It feels like I'm standing on the edge of something huge, something that could swallow both of us whole.
His fingers slide up my spine, slow, deliberate, like he wants to relearn every inch he lost.
And I let him.
He tilts my chin up gently, as though he's asking permission he already has.
"Jay," he breathes, "come here."
I do.
I move first.
My lips brush his.
Just a ghost of a touch—soft, unsure, barely there.But it knocks the air out of me.
He inhales sharply.
And then he kisses me.
Not careful.Not cautious.Not like I'm fragile glass he has to tiptoe around.
But like a man who has wanted this for a decade.
His hand slides around the back of my neck, pulling me deeper, my body practically melting against his. The warmth of him pours into every cold place I've carried for years.
His mouth moves over mine with this intoxicating mix of hunger and restraint—like he's trying not to devour me, but losing that battle fast.
My fingers curl into his hair, tugging him closer, closer—until my back hits the door and his body is pressed fully against mine.
A low sound leaves him—half groan, half relief—and the heat of it sends a shock straight through my entire spine.
He kisses me harder.
His lips part mine, slow, deliberate, asking—and God, I give in so easily I could cry.The moment his tongue brushes mine, my knees almost give out.The taste of him—warm, familiar, dizzying—pulls something deep out of me.
A whimper escapes before I can stop it.
That ruins him.
His hand slides to my waist, gripping firmly, pulling me flush against him.His other hand anchors the side of my jaw as he kisses me deeper—messier, needier, like he's making up for every stolen year.
My heart is slamming so violently I'm sure he can feel it against his chest.
He slows for a second—just a breath—his lips lingering over mine.
"Jay…" he whispers, voice shaking against my mouth, "God, you have no idea how long I've wanted this."
I swallow hard, my forehead brushing his.
"Keifer…" My voice is barely air. "Don't stop."
I feel him exhale, shaky, almost broken with want.
"I wasn't planning on it," he whispers.
And then he kisses me again—deeper, slower this time,like he's savoring the taste, the feel, the fact that I'm finally here.
His thumb traces my lower lip when he pulls back just enough to breathe.His eyes—dark, warm, hungry—drag over my face like he's imprinting every detail.
I realize I'm still gripping his shirt.I loosen my fingers, smoothing the fabric over his chest.His breath hitches.
He dips his head, kissing along my jaw, slow and deliberate, and my breath catches hard. My eyes flutter shut.
"Keifer…" I whisper, voice trembling.
He hums against my skin, his lips brushing the sensitive space beneath my ear.
"Say it again," he murmurs."Say my name like that."
Heat rushes through me.
I swallow, fingers sliding over his shoulders.
"Keifer…"
He groans softly, kissing me again—harder this time, more urgency, more heat.The door behind me vibrates with the force of him pushing me gently but deliberately against it.
His lips trail down my neck—slow, warm, devastating—before coming back up to capture my mouth in another breath-stealing kiss.
I feel alive.I feel terrified.I feel more than I've let myself feel in years.
When he finally breaks away, just an inch, our breaths are tangled—fast and uneven.
His forehead rests against mine again, his thumb brushing my cheek, gentler now.
I open my eyes.
He's looking at me like I just rewrote his universe.
And maybe I did.
"Jay…" he whispers, voice rough and unsteady, "don't run again."
I swallow, my palm resting over his heartbeat.
"I'm not running," I whisper back.
His eyes soften—warm, relieved, unbearably tender.
He kisses me again.Slow.Soft.Certain.
A promise, sealed on my lips.
And for the first time in ten years…I let myself believe it.