Jayjay POV
I sat on the Watsons' living room couch, … while internally enjoying the greatest live comedy show I had ever witnessed.
Some families watched television.
This family was the television.
Upstairs, I could still hear Keiren protesting dramatically.
"Mom! He ruined my shirt! This is emotional damage!"
Uncle Victor's voice followed.
"It builds character, champ!"
Then running footsteps.
Then laughter.
Then something that sounded suspiciously like furniture being dragged.
I blinked slowly.
…Was this normal here?
Because if it was, I might start visiting every weekend.
Across the room, Keifer leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, looking deeply unimpressed, like a man forced to watch the same circus every day.
Meanwhile, I was trying very hard not to laugh.
Failing terribly.
"You're enjoying this way too much," Keifer muttered.
"I am not," I lied.
Right on cue, Keiren stormed downstairs with a fresh shirt, dramatically inspecting himself like a celebrity betrayed by their stylist.
"I smell engine oil," he declared.
From upstairs, Uncle Victor yelled proudly,
"That means you're expensive now!"
I lost it.
A laugh escaped before I could trap it.
Keifer shot me a look.
Traitor.
"You fit right in," he said.
"Oh please," I replied. "Your family is amazing."
He scoffed softly.
Amazing was clearly not the word he would use.
Just then, Uncle Victor appeared at the top of the stairs again, now cleaned up and wearing a proper shirt. He spotted me and grinned.
"Ah! Our guest survived the chaos!"
"I did," I said. "Barely."
He laughed and disappeared toward the kitchen.
I leaned closer to Keifer.
"Okay… serious question."
He narrowed his eyes immediately.
"That face means trouble."
"Why do you act like you hate Uncle Victor?"
"I hate him."
"You absolutely dont," I said. "Your face changes every time he talks."
"That's just my face."
"No," I said calmly. "Your normal face is less… tragic."
He exhaled slowly, rubbing the back of his neck.
For a moment, he didn't answer.
Which meant I had asked the right question.
I tilted my head.
"Keifer… he's funny. Warm. Loud in a good way. The type of adult kids run toward, not away from. So what's the problem?"
His jaw tightened.
Then he looked toward the kitchen, making sure no one was listening.
"When I was s teen," he said quietly, "he used to embarrass me. A lot."
I blinked.
"That's it?"
"You don't understand."
"Explain."
He sighed.
"You know those school events where parents are supposed to sit quietly?"
I nodded.
"He doesn't sit quietly."
I tried not to smile.
"He cheers too loudly, waves like he's directing airplanes, calls my name across entire fields…"
My lips trembled.
"Jay."
"I'm not laughing."
"You are."
"I'm appreciating the visual."
He shot me a warning look.
But then something softened in his expression.
"He never missed anything," he added.
That made my smile fade into something gentler.
Sports days. Academic awards. Performances.
He was there for all of it.
Loudly.
Proudly.
Unapologetically.
"So…" I said slowly, "you don't hate him."
Keifer looked away.
"…He treats me like I'm still ten."
"Newsflash," I said. "To parents, you're always ten."
"I'm not even his son."
The words slipped out before he could stop them.
Ah.
There it was.
Not anger.
Not hate.
Something deeper.
I spoke softer.
"But he chose to show up for you anyway."
Keifer didn't respond.
From the kitchen came Uncle Victor again:
"KEIFER! Come taste this before your mother poisons us!"
Keifer closed his eyes briefly.
"He's dramatic too," he muttered.
I nudged his arm.
"Go."
"No."
"Go," I repeated. "Before he comes here and force-feeds you."
He groaned but pushed himself off the wall.
As he walked away, Uncle Victor appeared and immediately threw an arm over Keifer's shoulders.
The contrast made me smile.
Keifer looked composed and controlled.
Uncle Victor looked like human sunshine.
"Jayjay!" Uncle Victor called. "Tell him I'm the favorite adult in this house."
"I can confirm," I said instantly.
Keifer turned back.
"You've known him for twenty minutes."
"And already he has range," I replied.
Uncle Victor beamed.
"I like her."
"Please don't encourage her," Keifer muttered.
They disappeared into the kitchen, their voices blending with laughter, clattering plates, and Aunty Serina telling someone not to touch the food yet.
I leaned back into the couch.
Warmth spread quietly through my chest.
The Watson house wasn't calm.
It wasn't neat.
It wasn't quiet.
But it was alive.
And for the first time, I saw something I had never noticed before.
When Uncle Victor laughed, Keifer tried to hide it…
…but the corner of his mouth always lifted.
Maybe he didn't hate the man at all.
Maybe he just didn't know how to accept that kind of loud love.
A few minutes later, Keifer returned holding two glasses of juice. He handed one to me.
"Peace offering," he said.
"For what?"
"For exposing my childhood trauma."
I grinned.
"You're welcome."
He shook his head, but this time he was smiling properly.
Not guarded.
Not restrained.
Just… Keifer.
And I realized something as I watched him glance toward the kitchen again.
No matter how much he pretended otherwise…
This chaos was his home.
And judging by the way my chest felt strangely light sitting here…
It was starting to feel a little like mine too.
End of Chapter