Keifer's phone rang.
Not loud. Not urgent.
But enough to break the stillness that had wrapped itself around us.
He glanced at the screen, his jaw tightening just a little. I noticed it immediately—because after everything, I'd learned his expressions like they were my second language.
"Office?" I asked.
He nodded once. "Yeah."
He stepped a little away to answer, his voice calm, professional—the same voice he used when he was carrying the weight of an entire empire on his shoulders.
I leaned against the table, watching him. Husband. CEO. Responsibility stitched into his spine.
"Yes… I understand," he said.
A pause.
Another one.
Then his shoulders stiffened.
"I'll take the flight," he finally said. "Two days. I'll be there."
The call ended.
Silence came back—but it wasn't the peaceful kind anymore.
He turned toward me slowly, like he wasn't sure how to say what he had to say.
"Jay," he started.
"How soon?" I asked, already knowing.
"Tonight," he said quietly. "London. Something urgent with the board."
For a second, neither of us spoke.
Two days.
It shouldn't have felt big. It was just forty-eight hours. But it felt heavy—because we had just started. Just married. Just found our rhythm.
"You were supposed to stay," I said softly—not accusing, just stating a truth.
"I know," he replied immediately. "And I don't want to go."
He walked toward me, stopping just inches away. His hands found mine automatically, fingers threading through like they belonged there.
"I wouldn't leave if it wasn't important," he said. "You know that."
"I do," I nodded. "I'm not mad."
"But you're sad," he said.
I smiled weakly. "I'm allowed to be, right?"
He pulled me into his chest, his chin resting on the top of my head. "I hate this timing," he admitted. "I wanted these days to be ours."
"They still are," I said. "Just… stretched across countries."
He chuckled quietly at that, then sighed. "You should come with me."
I pulled back just enough to look at him. "Keif."
"I'm serious," he said. "But I know you're tired. And Section E will probably burn this mansion down if you leave them alone."
I laughed, shaking my head. "You're not wrong."
His thumb brushed over my knuckles, slow and thoughtful. "Two days," he said again. "I'll be back before you even get used to sleeping without me."
I raised an eyebrow. "Bold of you to assume I'll sleep."
That earned me a smile—the kind that softened his whole face.
"I'll call," he promised. "Every chance I get."
"And I'll complain," I replied. "Loudly."
"As you should," he said. "You're my wife."
That word still felt new. Still felt warm.
We stood there for a moment, just holding on, like if we let go the distance would already start forming.
"I'll help you pack," I finally said.
He shook his head gently. "Stay. I'll be quick."
"Keifer," I said firmly, "we're married. Packing together is non-negotiable."
He smiled then—real, fond, a little tired. "Yes, ma'am."
As he went upstairs to get ready, I followed slowly, already missing him even though he was still right there.
Two days.
That's all it was.
But love has a way of making even short goodbyes feel important.
And this one?
This one mattered. 💞
Airport Goodbye & Late-Night Calls (Jay's POV)
The airport was too bright for how heavy my chest felt.
Everything was moving—people dragging suitcases, announcements echoing, heels clicking against the floor—but for me, time had slowed down painfully.
Keifer stood in front of me, passport in one hand, his other hand holding mine like he was afraid I might disappear if he let go.
"You sure you'll be okay?" he asked, for the third time.
I smiled, trying to make it convincing. "I survived Section E for years before marrying you. I'll manage two days without you."
He didn't smile back immediately. His eyes searched my face, like he was memorizing it.
"Call me if you need anything," he said. "Even if it's stupid. Even if it's just because you miss me."
"I already miss you," I admitted quietly.
His grip tightened.
"Jay…" he murmured.
I stepped closer, resting my forehead against his chest. His heartbeat was steady—too steady for someone who was leaving his wife behind hours after their wedding.
"You better not fall in love with London," I muttered.
He huffed a small laugh. "Impossible. My wife isn't there."
That did it.
My throat closed up, and I blinked fast, refusing to cry here—under fluorescent lights, surrounded by strangers.
He lifted my chin gently. "Hey," he said softly. "It's just two days."
"I know," I whispered. "But I don't like goodbyes."
"I don't either," he said. "That's why I'm coming back."
They called his flight.
Once.
Then again.
He leaned down and pressed a kiss to my forehead—slow, careful, like he was anchoring himself.
"Sleep on my side of the bed," he said.
"Don't skip meals," he added.
"And don't let Section E convince you to do something dangerous."
I smiled through the ache. "You're asking for miracles."
He finally smiled then, pulling me into one last hug. "I love you."
"I love you more," I replied.
He pulled away—too soon—and walked backward for a few steps, eyes never leaving mine.
Only when he turned toward the gate did the reality hit.
Keifer was leaving.
Late Night – First Call
The mansion felt wrong without him.
Too quiet. Too big.
I lay on the bed, wrapped in his hoodie, staring at the ceiling when my phone buzzed.
Keifer calling.
I answered instantly. "You landed?"
"Just got to the hotel," his voice came through—tired, familiar, comforting. "Did you eat?"
"Yes," I lied.
He sighed. "Jay."
"I had juice," I corrected.
"That's not food."
I smiled into the pillow. "You're not even here and you're already scolding me."
"Distance doesn't change my job description," he said. "How's the house?"
"Empty," I admitted. "Section E left an hour ago. It got quiet suddenly."
"I'm sorry," he said softly.
"Don't be," I replied. "I just… miss you."
There was a pause. I imagined him sitting on the edge of a hotel bed, tie loosened, phone pressed to his ear.
"I miss you too," he said. "I keep reaching for you and realizing you're not here."
My chest tightened. "Come back soon."
"I will," he promised. "Sleep now."
"I can't," I said.
"Then stay on the call," he replied. "I'll work. You can just… be there."
So we stayed.
Him typing.
Me listening to his breathing.
It felt like home.
Second Night – Too Quiet
The second night was worse.
I was curled up on his side of the bed when my phone rang again.
"You awake?" he asked.
"Was waiting," I confessed.
He chuckled softly. "You're terrible at pretending you're independent."
"You married me knowing that," I shot back.
He laughed—properly this time. "Tell me something random."
I thought for a second. "Kieran ate three slices of cake today and blamed it on Angelo."
Keifer groaned. "I knew it."
"And Grandma asked when you're giving her great-grandchildren," I added casually.
Silence.
Then: "Jay."
"I'm joking," I laughed quickly. "Relax."
"I nearly booked the next flight back," he muttered.
That made my heart swell.
"I'll be home tomorrow night," he said. "I want you waiting for me."
"I'll be right there," I replied. "Exactly where you left me."
"Good," he said softly. "Because this place doesn't feel right without you."
Neither did mine.
We stayed on the call until my eyes finally closed—his voice the last thing I heard.
Two days felt long.
But love?
Love made the waiting worth it. 💞