Jay-Jay's POV
The first thing I register is… silence.
No warm breath on my neck.No heavy arm thrown over my waist.No ridiculously smug CEO attached to me like a human furnace.
Just… an empty space beside me.
My eyes snap open.
He's gone.
For one second I'm relieved——then I see it.
A small folded note on his pillow.
My heart does a somersault, lands badly, and dies.
I grab it with trembling fingers.
Jay-Jay,Don't hide from me today.— K
I drop the note like it burned me.
"Oh, no. Absolutely not. No, no, no."
Because the second my brain wakes up, it replays everything—His mouth on my neck.His voice saying 'my girl' like it was already written into my bones.Me… melting… like an idiot.Me almost telling him things I am absolutely not ready to tell him.
I slam a pillow over my face and scream into it.
Then I sit up.
Then I fall back.
Then I sit up again—because if I stay here, I'll combust.
"Nope. I'm avoiding him. I am avoiding him so hard he will question if I ever existed."
I scramble off the bed and rush into the shower like I'm trying to erase the memory of his hands on my skin. Spoiler: it doesn't work.
By the time I reach my condo door, blow-drying my hair in a panic and tripping over my heels, I've convinced myself of exactly one plan:
Avoid Mark Keifer Watson.Just for today.Just until I can breathe.
At My Office Lobby-
The second I push through the glass doors, disaster hits me in the form of two chaos gremlins disguised as coworkers.
"Jay!" Samy squints at my face like she's scanning a barcode. "…Why are you red?"
"I'm not red," I say too quickly, too defensively.
Coel looks me up and down. "Why are you walking like your soul left your body?"
I freeze. "I'm walking normally."
"You're walking like you fought God and lost," Coel mutters, leaning closer. "Is your neck… bruised?"
I whip my hair over my shoulder so violently it nearly flies off.
Samy gasps. "OH. MY. GOD."
"No." I glare. "Whatever you're thinking—no."
"Jay-Jay." Samy crosses her arms. "Who were you with last night?"
"No one!"
Coel raises a brow. "Did 'no one' do something to your lips? Because they look… swollen. Like kissing swollen."
"My lips are NATURALLY LIKE THIS," I hiss.
Samy snorts. "Girl, your lips do not look like that at 9 a.m. unless someone was—"
I slap my hand over her mouth. "Stop."
She licks my palm.
"UGH—SAMY!"
She just grins. "So I'm right."
"You're wrong."
"Then look me in the eye and say it."
I stare at her.
She stares back.
I break first. Obviously.
"Okay, I'm leaving." I grab my bag and speed-walk.
"Oh my god," Samy whispers behind me, "this is Mark Keifer Watson energy."
I trip.
Full-on stumble.
I glare back, voice cracking, "Stop saying his name!"
Samy and Coel exchange a slow, wide-eyed, "OH."Then Samy cups her hands around her mouth dramatically.
"JAY-JAY SPENT THE NIGHT WITH HER—"
"NOPE. I'M LEAVING."I power-walk into my office so fast I'm surprised the floor doesn't catch fire.
Inside My Office-
Door closed.Breath shaky.Heart worse.
I slump into my chair.
JAY-JAY, DON'T HIDE FROM ME TODAY.
I fling the note across the room and immediately run to pick it up again because I hate him and I love him and I hate that I love that I hate him.
"I can't do this," I whisper to myself.
My laptop boots up.
My brain does not.
Because every time I try to focus, something interrupts—
His thumb brushing my lower lip.Soft. Intentional.Like he knew exactly what it did to me.
His breath on my ear."Don't run. Not even in the morning."
I choke on air.
"My girl."
My face hits my desk.
I groan into the wood.
Why am I like this?Why is HE like this?Why is the universe like this?
I lift my head and push my hair back.
"I'll just avoid him. That's safe."I nod to myself like a delusional motivational speaker."Yes. Avoiding him is smart."
Except my brain immediately whispers:
But what if he finds you?
"No he won't," I mutter.
He absolutely will.
"He has meetings."
He has legs.
"He's busy."
He's Mark Keifer Watson.
"He won't—"
💬 Phone buzzes.
My soul leaves my body.
It's a message from him.
Keifer:Morning, sweetheart.Don't avoid me.
I yeet my phone across the room like it's cursed.
"OH MY GOD," I wheeze. "I can't survive today."
Because I know myself.
I know him.
And I know the way he looks at me now…like the past hasn't scared him away,like the present is something he wants to stay in,like I'm someone worth staying for—
I shut my eyes hard.
"No," I whisper. "I'm not ready for this. Not yet."
He deserves someone who isn't… me.Someone who isn't broken in the places I still pretend don't hurt.Someone who won't drag her past into his arms.
I clutch the edge of my desk.
Avoiding him is safer.
For me.For him.For the part of me that still isn't brave enough to believe he truly wants me.
I breathe in.
I breathe out.
I nod to myself.
Yes.Avoid him.Just for today.Just until the shaking stops.
But deep inside my chest… I know this:
He's going to find me anyway.
Samy explodes into my office as if she's being chased by a pack of wolves.
Well.One wolf.A very tall, very handsome, very persistent wolf in a tailored suit.
"HE'S HERE." she whisper-screams.
I choke. Violently. On my coffee.
"Wh—who's here?" I cough, slamming the mug down and wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.
Samy looks at me like I've lost my mind.Then she leans in, eyes wide, voice trembling with drama.
"The spawn of Greek gods. The jawline menace. The man who looks at you like you invented sunlight. JAY. KEIFER. IS. HERE."
I nearly fall off my chair.
And then Coel appears behind her, arms crossed, deadpan as ever.
"Good luck, madam," he says. "The man looks like he's here to collect his wife."
"I'M NOT HIS—" I start.
Coel raises one brow."Uh-huh. Tell him that. Let's see if he believes you."
My soul leaves my body.
"No, no, no—why is he here? Why now? I texted him! I said I'm busy!"
Samy gasps. "You texted him three words: 'Busy. Later maybe.' You didn't even add an emoji. He probably thought you were kidnapped."
I groan.
This is a disaster.
"I just need space," I mutter, grabbing the nearest folder to hide behind like a shield. "One day. Just one day to get my brain straight before he—"
A soft knock.
Coel and Samy freeze like I pressed a pause button on their souls.
The door opens.
And there he is.
Mark Keifer Watson.In a dark suit that fits him like it was tailored by angels.Hands in his pockets.Expression calm—too calm.Eyes locked right on me like he already knows I'm trying to escape him.
My heart stops.
Samy whispers, "Oh wow."
Coel whispers, "Man did not come to play."
Keifer steps inside.
"Jay-Jay."
Just that.Two syllables.And my entire nervous system short-circuits.
I grip the folder harder. "W-why are you here?"
He tilts his head slightly, gaze unwavering."You weren't answering me."
"That's because I… I had a meeting."
Samy coughs—the dramatic, fake cough of someone witnessing a lie so obvious it hurts.
Coel mutters under his breath, "This is a comedy show."
I shoot them both a deadly glare.
Keifer takes one slow step toward me.
I take one slow step back.
Samy's eyes dart between us like she's watching the world's most intense ping-pong match.
Keifer's gaze softens. "Jay."
"What?" My voice is embarrassingly high.
"Are you avoiding me?"
"No!" I squeak. "I'm just… working."
"You're holding the folder upside down," he says gently.
I glance down.
The folder is indeed upside down.
Samy snorts. Loudly.
Coel grabs her arm. "We're leaving before we get murdered. Good luck, boss."
They slip out, closing the door in record time.
Now it's just me.
And him.
Keifer walks the rest of the way toward me—not hurried, not aggressive. Just… quiet, sure steps that make the air feel heavier with every inch he closes.
I try to move.I really do.
But my back hits my desk.
He stops in front of me, leaving only a foot between us.
Just one foot.
Just enough to feel the warmth of him.Just enough to make my breath stutter.
He leans one hand on the desk behind me, blocking half my escape route.
His voice drops, low and warm. "Jay… why are you running again?"
The question lands like a stone in my stomach.
"I—I'm not."
"You are." His fingers brush my wrist—light, barely-there, but enough to make my pulse trip. "You ran this morning. You ran the moment I said 'my girl'. And now you're running again."
I inhale sharply.
He sees it.He always sees everything.
"I'm not doing this to corner you," he murmurs. "I just… want to understand."
Understanding.That's the problem.He always wants to understand.And I—I don't know how to let him.
"I have a meeting," I blurt.
He blinks. "At 10:07 AM? With no laptop? No notes? And holding an upside-down folder?"
"YES," I lie.
Keifer gently exhales a laugh—soft, disbelieving, affectionate.The kind that makes my knees weaken.
"Jay-Jay," he says quietly. "Just talk to me."
I panic.
Fully, completely, dramatically panic.
My body moves before my brain does—I slip out from the small gap on the other side of him, practically sprinting toward the door.
"Jay," he calls.
I don't stop.
I grab the door handle, fling it open, and—
"Where are you going?" he asks behind me, far too calm.
"Elevator!" I shout, not even turning back.
"Jay."
"No!"
I rush down the hallway.
He follows.
Not running.Not chasing.
Just walking.With the confidence of a man who knows exactly how this ends.
I stab the elevator button repeatedly like it's a life-or-death emergency.
The doors open.
I throw myself inside.
Just as they begin to close—
A hand slips through.
The doors slide open again.
Keifer steps inside.
And the second they close this time—
We are alone.
His eyes stay on me.
"Jay."
I press myself to the far wall like distance will save me.
He steps forward.
Slow.
Deliberate.
I hold up a hand. "D-don't."
He doesn't stop.
He stops only when his chest is inches from mine, his hand reaching up—not to grab, not to trap—but to gently brush a loose strand of hair behind my ear.
The touch sends a shiver down my spine.
"Why are you avoiding me?" he asks softly.
His breath grazes my cheek.
My heart slams against my ribs.
"Tell me what's wrong," he whispers.
I open my mouth.
Nothing comes out.
Because the truth—the thing I can't tell him yet—is sitting on my tongue like a weight:
I'm scared I'm not enough for you.I'm scared I'll ruin your life again.I'm scared you deserve someone whole.
But I can't tell him that.
Not yet.
Not when I can barely breathe around the weight of it.
The elevator dings.
The doors open.
I run.
I slip past him, practically bolting into the hallway.
He calls my name once—soft, low, hurt—but I keep moving.
Because if I stay—
I'll tell him the truth.
And the truth might break me.
I turn a corner—too fast, too blindly—and then—
A hand catches my wrist.
Firm. Warm. Unmistakable.
My breath stops.
I spin around, already knowing the face I'll meet.
Keifer.
He looks… calm. Too calm. The kind of calm he gets when he's two seconds away from losing patience but refusing to show it.
"Keifer—what—" I gasp, tugging my wrist instinctively. "What are you doing? Someone might see us—"
"That's why," he says, voice low, controlled, "we're going somewhere no one will."
Before I can protest, he gently but unyieldingly pulls me forward—toward the elevator I just escaped.
"Keifer—stop—"
"No."
Just one word.
Just one.
But it cuts through every shaky wall I tried to build this morning.
The elevator doors begin to close again, but he presses the button with his free hand, tugging me inside with him—not harshly, never harshly—but firmly enough that I know running is no longer an option.
The doors slide shut.
The world shrinks.
He presses the highest floor.
The elevator starts moving.
Only then does he turn fully to face me.
His gaze locks onto mine—steady, deliberate, impossible to escape.
"Jay—"
The lights flicker.
I freeze.
The elevator hum stutters.
"Keifer…?" I whisper.
Then everything goes dark.
A heavy thunk vibrates through the walls.
The elevator stops.
Silence.
My lungs claw for air.
He curses softly under his breath, but his hands find my shoulders immediately, steady, warm, grounding.
"Hey," he murmurs, his voice the only thing in the dark, "I'm right here. It's just a power surge. Backup will kick in."
But right now, it's just us.
Two heartbeats.
No escape.
And too many things I'm trying not to feel.
The emergency light flickers on—dim, warm, almost intimate.
Keifer exhales in relief and looks down at me.
There's something in his eyes.
Not anger.Not frustration.Just… worry. And something deeper than that—something I'm terrified to name.
He steps closer.
I step back until my spine hits the elevator wall.
"Jay-Jay," he says softly, "you're shaking."
"I'm not."I am.
He steps closer again.
I can't move. I can barely think.
"Talk to me," he says.
"I'm—I'm busy," I blurt.
His brows lift. "In a broken elevator?"
"I have… tasks."
He gives me a long, slow, soul-dissecting look.
"You're lying," he says quietly.
I press myself harder into the wall. "Keifer—"
He lifts my chin with two fingers.
Gentle. Devastating.
"Look at me, sweetheart."
The word "sweetheart" melts every thought I was trying to weaponize against myself.
I look up.
And everything in me breaks.
His thumb grazes my jaw, brushing a stray strand of hair behind my ear as if he has every right to touch me like this. As if touching me is something he's been starving for.
"Keifer…" I whisper, hating how fragile my voice sounds.
"Finally," he murmurs, stepping close enough that his breath touches my lips. "You're looking at me."
His forehead leans toward mine—slowly, giving me every chance to pull away.
But I don't.
I can't.
"Why," he whispers, "are you running again?"
His hand settles on my waist, warm, steady, burning through my blouse.
My eyes flutter shut.
"I—" I start.
And then his lips brush mine.
Barely.
Light as breath.
But it destroys me.
I grab his shirt—maybe to push him away, maybe to pull him closer. I don't even know.
His other hand cups my face, fingers sliding into my hair, holding me like he's afraid I'll disappear again.
"Jay," he breathes against my mouth, "if you don't want this… tell me now."
I don't tell him to stop.
I don't move.
I don't run.
So he kisses me.
Slow at first—painfully slow.
His lips press into mine in a deep, searching way, like he's relearning the shape of me after years of missing me. I gasp softly, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.
He takes the opening.
The kiss deepens.
Becomes stronger.
Warmer.
His hand slides from my waist to the small of my back, pulling me into him. My body meets his with a helpless sound I didn't mean to make.
He swallows it with another kiss.
"Jay-Jay…" he murmurs, mouth brushing mine, "don't run from this."
I grip the collar of his shirt, pulling him impossibly closer.
His thumb strokes the corner of my mouth, tilting my head just the way he knows drives me insane.
The elevator could fall.The world could end.I wouldn't notice.
He kisses me again—slow, intense, far too intimate for a place like this.
My knees wobble.
He notices instantly—his hand sliding to support my lower back, holding me against him, steady and claiming.
Then, against my lips, he whispers:
"Why are you avoiding me?"
The question hits harder than any kiss.
I freeze.
His hands still on my waist.
His breath warm on my cheek.
His eyes searching mine.
I can't answer.
I can't give him the truth.
Not without shattering.
I pull back—just enough for space, not enough to really break away.
He watches me with a tightening jaw, hurt flickering behind the frustration.
"Jay," he whispers, "tell me."
I swallow.
"I… I can't."
The elevator hums faintly—the power trying to return.
I step away.
He lets me this time.
The light flickers brighter.
The elevator jerks softly, preparing to move again.
Keifer's chest rises, then lowers.
"Jay-Jay—"
Keifer's POV
The elevator doors stay closed.
The world is dim—emergency lights humming faintly above us after the sudden power fluctuation—but all I see is her.Pressed against the mirrored wall, breathing too fast, pupils blown wide from the kiss we just shared.And the way she ran.And the way she froze when I asked her why.
She keeps her eyes on the floor, not on me, and that—That hurts more than I expected.
I take one slow step toward her.
"Jay-Jay," I say softly, testing how close I'm allowed to be.
She flinches.
Not from fear.From feeling.
Her throat bobs. "Keifer… don't."
I don't listen. I never do when it comes to her hurting.
My hand lifts, almost on instinct, brushing my thumb across her cheek. Her skin is warm—too warm—and she leans into the touch before she catches herself and pulls back like she touched fire.
"Talk to me," I whisper. "What's wrong?"
She swallows hard. "It's nothing."
I inhale slowly, steadying the frustration that spikes in my chest.Not angry frustration—worried frustration.
"Sweetheart," I murmur, "you think I can't tell when something is eating you alive?"
She closes her eyes.
And I see it—the flicker of pain.The shadow of fear.The same walls she always puts up when she's about to break.
"Jay."I reach for her again.
She steps back.
"Don't," she repeats, softer this time. "Please."
I force myself to stay still.To give her space even when everything in me wants to pull her in and never let her disappear like she used to.
"Why are you avoiding me?" I ask quietly. "What changed between last night and this morning?"
Her lips part—For a second I think she'll finally say it.
But she closes them again.
Her voice cracks when she whispers, "Keifer, I can't… not right now."
My jaw tightens. Not out of anger—never anger with her—but out of helplessness.
I lift a hand toward her again, slow, intentional.
She turns away.
I step closer anyway, lowering my voice to something warm, something gentle, something I only use on her:
"Jay-Jay. Sweetheart. Whatever it is—you can tell me."
Her breath stutters.
In her eyes I see it—the truth she's swallowing down,the fear she refuses to voice,the belief that she is unworthy of something as simple as being loved.
But she doesn't give me any of it.
"It's nothing," she repeats again, and this time she forces a smile.
A shaky one.
A lie wrapped in a beautiful face I've memorized too many times.
"Jay…" I step in front of her, blocking her way because I know she'll bolt as soon as the doors open. "Look at me."
She doesn't.
So I gently catch her wrist—not to trap her, never that—but to anchor her.To stop her from floating away again.
She whispers, barely audible, "Keifer… please."
My chest tightens.She's hurting and she won't let me in.
I soften my grip, thumb brushing her wrist. "I'm not asking for everything. I'm not asking for your whole heart all at once. Just—tell me why you're running."
Her chin trembles. She doesn't answer.
"Jay," I say again, quieter, "please."
Her eyes flicker up to mine.
For a moment—a tiny, fragile moment—I see every shattered piece she's trying to glue together.
Then she shakes her head and pulls her hand away.
"I can't," she breathes. "Not right now."
I swallow the ache that hits me.Not because she rejected me—but because she's clearly drowning in something she thinks she has to hide.
"All right," I say softly. "But don't shut me out."
She opens her mouth—
Ding.
The elevator hums back to life.
The doors slide open.
And just like that—she runs again.
"Jay—" I reach out instinctively, fingers brushing nothing but air.
She slips past me, practically sprinting out.
The doors begin to close.She turns back once—just once—
Her eyes meet mine.
Wide.Scared.Sorry.
The metal panels slide together, closing the space between us.
Before they seal completely, I mouth her name.
"Jay."
Her breath catches.Her shoulders stiffen.
Then she turns and disappears down the hallway.
The elevator closes around me, silent except for the faint echo of her footsteps fading away.
And I whisper into the empty space—
"Why won't you let me love you?"
Jay-Jay's POV
I don't look back.
I can't.
If I look back—even for a second—I'll fall apart in front of him. And I can't let him see me like this. Not when he just watched me break inside that elevator. Not when his voice was still echoing in my bones.
Jay… please.
My steps become faster, almost frantic as I move down the hallway, heels clicking too loudly, too fast. People pass by. Someone greets me. Someone asks something.
I don't hear any of it.
All I hear is my heartbeat.
All I feel is the ghost of his hand on my cheek, the warmth of his body pressed to mine in that cramped elevator, the way his lips tasted like certainty.
And the way I… froze.
"Why…" My voice cracks as I whisper to no one, "…why does he look at me like that?"
Like I'm not the girl who ran from him.Like I'm not the girl who broke everything.Like I'm not the girl who doesn't even trust herself.
My chest tightens, sharp and breath-stealing.
Why does he choose me? Why doesn't he see I'm not enough?
I push open an empty meeting room and slip inside. The door shuts with a soft click. Safe. Hidden. Finally.
I lean back against the door and let my knees fold, sinking down to the carpeted floor like my bones can't hold me up anymore.
My breath stutters.
Everything hurts—not physically, but in the way old wounds ache when someone touches them too gently.
I hug my knees to my chest, forehead pressing against them.
Why am I like this?
Why can't I just… stay?
Why can't I tell him?
Why does the thought of telling him make my lungs close, my throat tighten, my vision blur?
I squeeze my eyes shut, and everything floods me all at once—
His body warming my back this morning.His lips brushing my neck like it was the most natural thing in the world.His whisper, right against my skin—"Morning, sweetheart."
The way his hands held me like he wasn't afraid I'd vanish.
The way he kissed me—slow, deep, like he was relearning every piece of me.
The way he said it.
My girl.
My chest shakes.
He said it like it was true.Like it had always been true.Like it would always be true.
My fingers clutch at my shirt right over my heart—because something there feels unsteady, trembling, too fragile to trust.
"I can't…" I breathe out. "I can't let him love someone like me."
The words fall out before I can stop them.
And they hurt.
God, they hurt.
Because I want to be that girl. I want to be enough. I want to stand in front of him without feeling like I'm holding a cracked version of myself together with shaking hands.
But I remember the way I ran from him before.I remember the promises I broke.I remember the pain in his eyes—back then and now.
I remember me.
The me who wasn't ready.The me who lied.The me who left.The me who hurt him.
Why would he choose someone like that?
Why would he choose someone who still flinches when someone gets too close—even if that someone is him?
My breathing grows uneven. I try to steady it, but the memories won't let me.
The elevator.
Too close.Too warm.Too much.
The kiss.
God, that kiss.
I brush my fingers over my lips, trembling as the memory crashes over me.
His hand cupping my jaw, thumb stroking the place just under my lip like he knew exactly how to make me melt.His other hand slipping around my waist, pulling me flush against him.His voice—low, barely controlled—"Why are you avoiding me?"
And I felt the truth in my mouth.
But I couldn't speak it.
So instead, I broke apart and ran the moment the doors opened.
Because if I stayed—If I looked at him for one more second—I would have told him everything.
And the truth…
The truth might break me.
My head drops back against the wall, eyes stinging.
"Keifer…" I whisper, voice barely a breath.
His name tastes like longing and fear and regret.Like the apology I don't know how to say.Like the love I'm afraid to touch.
I wipe my face with the heels of my palms, forcing myself to breathe slowly. In. Out. In. Out.
Then I stand.
It feels like trying to stand in the middle of a storm.
I smooth my hair even though my hands won't stop shaking. I straighten my clothes. I force air into my lungs like I'm preparing for a meeting and not a meltdown.
And then—
Quietly.Softly.To no one but myself—
I whisper the thought clawing at the inside of my chest:
"You deserve someone better than me."
The words drop to the floor like something heavy—like something breaking.
And the silence that follows feels colder than the elevator ever was.
"You deserve someone better than me."
The words leave my mouth before I can stop them—barely a whisper, small and pathetic in the empty meeting room.
My voice echoes lightly against the walls, sounding like someone else's. Someone weaker.
I press the back of my hand to my mouth, swallowing a breath that won't stay down.
My chest hurts.
Of course it hurts.
Because saying it makes it feel real.
Because saying it feels like pushing him away before he realizes he should've left on his own.
"Jay."
I freeze.
That voice.
That deep, steady, too-familiar voice.
No—No, no, no.
I jerk upright so fast that my vision tilts. "Keifer?" My whisper cracks into the air. "H-How—"
He steps inside the room like it's nothing, closing the door behind him with a quiet click.
He looks… tired. Not the kind of tired people get from a long day.The kind that comes from searching for something they're terrified of losing.
"I've been looking everywhere for you," he says softly.
My throat closes.
I can't breathe.
I can't move.
He takes a careful step toward me. "Jay-Jay."
I shake my head instantly, backing up until my spine hits the wall. "Keifer, don't. I—I need space."
He stops. But only in distance. Not in intention.
His eyes lock onto mine with that frustrating combination of fondness and frustration.The one that always melts me and destroys me at the same time.
"Space?" he repeats quietly. "Sweetheart, I gave you space. You ran."
"I didn't run," I lie weakly.
He tilts his head. "Jay… you nearly sprinted."
I squeeze my eyes shut. "Don't do this."
"Do what?" His voice lowers, deeper, threaded with hurt. "Ask the girl I love why she's suddenly acting like she's afraid of me?"
My chest stutters.
"Keifer, please—"
"No."His voice isn't harsh, but it's firm.Too firm.Unshakeable.
"I won't let you shut down on me," he says, taking another step forward. "Not after last night. Not after this morning. Not after the way you—"
"Stop." My voice breaks. "Please stop."
Silence falls between us.
Not empty.
Too full.
I finally look at him—and regret it instantly.
He's looking at me like I hung the stars in the wrong order but he'd still memorize the sky anyway. Like he's trying to read every thought I won't say.
He exhales slowly. "Jay-Jay. Talk to me."
I shake my head again. My voice is barely air. "I can't."
"Why?"
The word hits harder than it should.
Why.
Why.
Because I don't deserve you.Because I ruined everything years ago.Because you don't know half my damage.Because if you knew, you'd leave.Because you deserve someone whole.
Because loving me has never been easy.
Instead, I say nothing.
Keifer's jaw tightens just the slightest bit. "Jay." He walks toward me slowly, giving me enough time to flee.
I don't move.
His voice softens. "Sweetheart… I can't fix something if you won't even let me hold it."
A tremor runs through me.
"That's the problem," I whisper. "You shouldn't have to fix anything."
"I don't have to," he murmurs, stopping right in front of me. "I want to. I want you. All of you."
I look away. "Don't say things like that."
"Why not?"
"Because I'll believe you."
He goes still.
Like the ground under him just shifted.
Very gently—so gently I almost don't feel it—he touches my chin and tilts my face up.
"Jay-Jay."
"No," I breathe, trying to look away.
"Yes," he says, voice low. "Look at me."
I do.
I wish I hadn't.
His eyes are soft. Steady. Devastating.
"You should believe me," he says. "Because I've never said anything truer."
My throat burns. "Keifer, I can't—"
"You can," he whispers. "Just not today. And that's okay."
I blink.
He smiles, just barely. "I'm not asking for everything right now. I just want you to stop hurting alone."
My breath wavers. Hard.
"Jay-Jay," he murmurs, his thumb brushing the corner of my shaking mouth, "let me in. Little by little. At your pace."
Something inside me cracks.
Not open.
But enough.
Finally, I whisper, "I'm trying."
His eyes soften even more. "I know."
Silence. Warm. Painful. Real.
Then—
"You deserve better," I whisper, unable to stop myself.
Keifer goes still.
Dead still.
He takes a breath like he's grounding himself, then leans just a little closer.
"Don't ever say that again."
"Keifer—"
"Jay." He cups my cheek with both hands now, forehead almost touching mine. "If you knew how long I've waited for you… you'd understand there is no 'better.' There is only you."
My lungs forget their job.
"My Queen," he whispers, brushing a kiss against my forehead, "stop deciding for me what I deserve."
A tear slips down my cheek.
He wipes it instantly. "I'm not leaving. Not unless you tell me to."
I stumble on my words. "I— I don't want you to."
His breath catches. "Then I'm staying."
My heart stutters hard and painful.
He leans his forehead fully against mine.
Soft.
Steady.
"Jay-Jay," he murmurs, voice wrapped in something dangerously close to a promise, "I love you. And I'm not going anywhere."
Everything inside me trembles.
Everything.
But I don't run.
Not this time.
I just whisper, voice breaking—
"Keifer…"
His fingers lace with mine.
He kisses my knuckles.
Then he whispers it—the word that ruins me every time.
"My girl."
A sob rises in my throat.
But this time…For the first time…
It's not from fear.
It's from hope.