Keifer's POV
London nights don't sleep.
They observe.
I stood near the tall glass window of the hotel corridor, the city stretched beneath me like a living map of power and consequence.
Lights flickered in quiet confidence. Cars moved with purpose. Everything here felt intentional, calculated.
Just like my family.
Just like the choices that had brought me here.
I loosened my tie slightly and exhaled. The meeting earlier had been exhausting. Too many smiles that meant nothing. Too many words that carried knives underneath.
"You look like you're planning a murder," one of my cousins remarked earlier.
I hadn't bothered correcting him. Sometimes silence was safer than honesty.
I turned away from the window and walked back toward my room, footsteps echoing faintly against marble floors. The hotel was elegant in that cold, impersonal way.
Expensive art. Perfect lighting. Nothing here invited you to stay longer than necessary.
And yet… something kept pulling at me.
That feeling again.
It had started downstairs in the lobby. That sudden, inexplicable pressure in my chest. Like I'd walked past something important and my body noticed before my mind did.
Ridiculous, I told myself.
Jet lag. Stress. Guilt.
I unlocked my door and stepped inside, tossing my coat onto the chair. The room was dark except for the city glow bleeding in through the curtains. I didn't turn on the lights immediately. I rarely did. Darkness was quieter.
I sat on the edge of the bed, elbows resting on my knees, staring at the floor.
Why tonight?
Of all nights, why did it feel harder to breathe?
I dragged a hand down my face, then laughed under my breath, humor dry and hollow. "You did this to yourself, Watson."
The room answered with silence.
My phone buzzed.
Keiran.
I frowned and answered immediately.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing," he said quickly. Too quickly.
"Relax. I just wanted to check if you're alive."
"I am," I replied. "Unfortunately."
He snorted. "Mood."
I leaned back against the headboard. "You should be asleep."
"So should you," he shot back. "But here we are. Two emotionally damaged males ignoring bedtime."
I smirked despite myself. "You're twelve."
"And already wiser than you," he said smugly. Then his tone softened. "You okay?"
I hesitated.
Keiran had a way of seeing through me that was… inconvenient.
"I felt something earlier," I admitted finally.
"Something?" he echoed.
"In the lobby," I said. "Like… a presence."
There was a pause on the line.
Then, very quietly, Keiran said, "Did it feel familiar?"
My jaw tightened.
"Yes."
Another pause.
"You didn't see her," he said, not quite a question.
"No," I replied immediately. Too immediately. "Of course not."
Keiran hummed. "Just checking."
I frowned. "What does that mean?"
"Nothing," he said lightly. "Just… London is big. But sometimes it's smaller than we think."
I stood up and walked toward the window, pulling the curtains aside. The city stared back at me, unapologetic.
"Keiran," I said slowly, "if you're implying something—"
"I'm not," he interrupted quickly. "I promise. I just wanted to hear your voice."
I softened. "You're okay?"
"Yeah," he said. "I just… wanted to make sure you didn't forget why you're doing this."
I closed my eyes.
As if I could forget.
"I know," I said quietly.
After the call ended, I stayed by the window longer than necessary.
Somewhere in this city, she existed.
Not here. Not near. Just… alive.
That was enough. It had to be.
I turned away and prepared for bed, movements mechanical. Shirt folded. Watch placed neatly. Everything in its place. Control was comfort.
But when I finally lay down, sleep refused to come.
My mind betrayed me with memories.
Her laugh.
Her stubbornness.
The way she used to look at me like the world made sense when we were standing together.
I rolled onto my side, staring at the wall.
"I did it for you," I whispered into the darkness. "Even if you never know."
A soft knock broke the silence.
I stiffened instantly, instincts flaring.
I crossed the room and opened the door cautiously.
No one.
Just the quiet hallway and the distant hum of the city.
I exhaled sharply and shook my head. "You're losing it."
Back inside, I locked the door and leaned against it, breathing out slowly.
Downstairs, someone laughed. A woman's voice. Light. Familiar in a way that made my chest ache for reasons I couldn't name.
I pressed my palm against the door,
grounding myself.
Don't look.
Don't wonder.
Don't hope.
Hope was dangerous.
Eventually, exhaustion won. I drifted into a shallow sleep filled with half-formed dreams and unnamed faces.
London Morning
I woke before dawn.
The city outside was quieter now, washed in pale gray. I stood by the window again, coffee in hand, watching London wake up like a creature stretching after a restless night.
Today was important.
Meetings. Strategy. Inheritance battles dressed up as polite conversation.
And yet… my thoughts lingered on the night before.
On that feeling.
On the sense that I had been closer to something than I realized.
I didn't know that just a few floors away, Jay Jay had watched the same sky.
I didn't know that the bond I was trying so hard to bury had already crossed the distance between us.
But somewhere deep inside, I felt it.
The calm before something inevitable.
London morning arrived quietly.
And with it, the unspoken truth that whatever was coming next…
I wouldn't be able to outrun it forever.
...
Pleaseeeee comment and tell me one thing, if you could spend a day with someone from Section E, who would it be ?