The rest of the day moved slowly, quietly, yet the mansion seemed warmer than usual.
Jay had retreated to her room after the morning's chaos, the bath still lingering in her senses. She leaned back on the soft pillows, letting herself breathe.
Serina entered quietly, a gentle smile on her face, carrying a small tray.
"Here," she said softly, placing a cup of herbal tea and a small bowl of fresh fruit beside Jay. "Take your time. Relax. You've had a long morning."
Jay smiled faintly, feeling the comfort of Serina's presence. "Thank you, Mama," she whispered, curling into the pillows.
From the doorway, Keizer quietly peeked in, holding a small bar of dark chocolate. He didn't say anything, simply set it on her bedside table. His eyes lingered on her for a moment, silent and caring, before he quietly left.
Jay's lips curved into a small smile. Somehow, even in his quiet way, he always noticed what she needed.
And then, of course, there was Keifer.
He never left her side. Not for a second.
He sat on the edge of the bed, legs dangling, one arm draped lazily over her shoulder. His thumb brushed gently over her arm, a quiet, constant reassurance.
"You need anything?" he murmured softly.
Jay shook her head, leaning slightly into him. "No… just… stay."
He didn't move. He didn't say anything. Just stayed.
Serina quietly left the room, giving them space, but the warmth of her support lingered.
Keizer's small gestures, Serina's gentle guidance, and Keifer's constant presence surrounded Jay, forming a cocoon of care she had never truly experienced before.
Her heart felt lighter. Her body relaxed.
Even in a mansion filled with people, she felt safe. Protected. Loved.
And through it all, Keifer never left her side, his presence both grounding and thrilling.
In that quiet afternoon, Jay realized something: sometimes, love wasn't just passion or teasing—it was also being surrounded by people who cared quietly, and a man who refused to let go.
Jay's body felt unusually weak that afternoon. The morning's chaos, the bath, and the unexpected start of her period had left her drained.
She sat on the edge of her bed, trying to steady herself, but the exhaustion made even the simplest tasks—like standing or moving—feel impossible.
Keifer noticed immediately. His eyes softened, and without a word, he stepped closer.
"Jay," he said gently, "don't try to do anything yourself. Let me help."
She hesitated, cheeks burning with embarrassment, but her body couldn't argue. She nodded silently.
He knelt in front of her, careful and respectful. His hands moved with practiced precision, helping her with the pads and adjusting her panties. He didn't hesitate. There was no awkwardness, no teasing. Just quiet, focused care.
Jay's fingers twined into his hair instinctively as he worked, a mixture of relief and warmth washing over her.
"You… you don't have to…" she murmured, but his gaze met hers, steady and protective.
"I do," he said simply. "You're not doing this alone. Not ever."
His hands were gentle but confident, making sure she was comfortable. His presence filled the room with an unspoken promise: she was safe, cared for, and completely protected.
When he finished, he brushed a stray hair from her forehead. "Better?" he asked softly.
Jay nodded, blinking back tears of gratitude and embarrassment. "Much better… thank you, Keifer."
He smiled slightly, almost tenderly. "You don't need to thank me. It's what I do."
For Jay, in that quiet moment, the mansion felt warmer. Safer. And Keifer—always teasing, always daring—was now also the calm, unwavering presence she could lean on.
And she realized, once again, that no matter what, he would never leave her side.