JAY'S POV —
Morning came quietly.
Not the kind that jolts you awake—but the kind that arrives soft and pale, like it doesn't want to scare you.
The aircraft door opened, and cool air rushed in.
I stepped down slowly.
The first thing I noticed was the silence.
Not empty—controlled.
Men in tailored suits stood in perfect alignment on either side of a long carpet laid out on the tarmac. Heads bowed slightly. No cameras. No whispers. Just respect.
My father walked beside me.
Percy stayed close—always just a step behind, like instinct.
They moved through the space like this world already knew them.
Like it had been waiting.
For them, it was familiar.
For me—
It was unreal.
We got into one of the cars—black, quiet, smooth—and as it pulled away, I pressed my forehead lightly to the window.
The city unfolded outside.
Tall buildings catching early sunlight. Streets already alive. A rhythm I didn't recognize but somehow didn't fear.
Percy's presence grounded me. My father's silence felt heavy—but not cold. Protective. Careful.
No one rushed me.
When the car finally slowed, I thought we'd arrived at a hotel.
Then the gates opened.
And opened.
And opened.
The mansion rose before us like something out of a different life entirely—wide, white stone, glass catching the sky, gardens stretching farther than I could see.
This wasn't a house.
It was a statement.
The door opened before we reached it.
A woman stood there.
Elegant. Composed. Soft in a way that didn't feel rehearsed.
She looked at me—and smiled.
Then she walked forward and wrapped her arms around me.
I stiffened for half a second.
Then returned it.
Carefully.
She smelled like warmth and something floral I couldn't place.
"I'm so glad you're home," she said quietly.
Home.
Percy cleared his throat gently. "Jay… this is Reycee Mariano. My mother."
My—stepmother.
She pulled back just enough to look at my face. "I've waited a long time to meet you."
Her eyes held no curiosity.
Only welcome.
She took my hand and guided me inside, speaking softly about fresh clothes, rest, food whenever I was ready.
No pressure.
No demands.
She led me up the stairs and down a long hallway, opening a door at the end.
My room.
It was large. Sunlit. Calm.
Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the city. The bed looked like something meant for sleep—not escape.
"Freshen up," Reycee said gently. "We'll be right downstairs if you need anything."
She left me alone.
I walked to the window.
The city stretched endlessly below me.
New streets. New faces. New beginnings.
For the first time, the future didn't feel like something chasing me.
It felt like something waiting.
I pressed my palm to the glass and breathed in slowly.
A new city.
A new life.
And maybe—
A chance to finally become myself...
I freshened up slowly.
Not because I was tired—but because standing still felt dangerous.
The bathroom alone was bigger than the living room I'd grown up in. Marble counters. Soft lighting. A mirror that showed a girl I barely recognized—bruises fading, eyes still red, but standing.
When I stepped into the walk-in closet, I stopped.
Rows and rows of clothes. Designer labels. Dresses wrapped in silk covers. Shoes aligned like art.
It should've overwhelmed me.
It didn't.
None of it mattered.
Because no amount of fabric could stitch the wounds left by people I loved.
So I didn't touch the dresses.
I pulled on jeans. A simple top. Something that felt like me. Not the girl they broke. Not the girl they dressed up for expectations.
Just me.
I went downstairs.
The dining room was already warm with quiet conversation. My father sat at the head of the table. Reycee beside him. Percy across, scrolling through his phone until he noticed me.
"You okay? ," he said softly.
I nodded and took the seat beside him.
Food was placed in front of me—carefully, like no one wanted to scare me away. I ate a little. Enough to show I was trying.
Conversation stayed light. Safe. About the city. About rest. About nothing that hurt.
Then my father spoke.
"I've spoken to HVIS," he said calmly. "You won't need to return. You'll give your finals online later this month."
My hand stilled around the fork.
HVIS.
For a split second, everything rushed back—faces, voices, betrayal, Keifer's eyes, the ring hitting the floor and them
SECTION E.
My chest tightened.
I forced myself to breathe.
"I'm fine," I said quickly, lifting my gaze. "That's… good. Thank you."
Percy watched me closely.
Reycee noticed too—but didn't say anything.
After eating a little more, I excused myself.
"I'm tired," I said. Which wasn't a lie—just not the whole truth.
Back in my room, I sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the city again.
I didn't cry.
I refused to.
If I let myself fall apart now, I wasn't sure I'd stop.
So I stayed still. Quiet. Determined.
A knock came softly on the door.
"Jay?" Reycee's voice. Gentle. Asking, not assuming.
"You can come in," I said.
She entered with a tray of fruits, placing it on the table without comment. She sat beside me—not too close. Not too far.
"I know this is a lot," she said quietly. "New place. New people. New truths."
I didn't respond.
She didn't push.
"I just want you to know," she continued, "you don't have to be strong here. Not all the time. We're here—for all of it."
That did it.
The wall I'd been holding up cracked.
Tears slipped out before I could stop them. Silent at first. Then shaking.
I turned toward her without thinking and hugged her.
She wrapped her arms around me instantly.
No hesitation.
No stiffness.
Just warmth.
I cried into her shoulder—soft, broken, exhausted cries I'd swallowed for years.
"It hurts," I whispered.
"I know," she murmured, rubbing my back gently. "But you're safe now."
For the first time since everything shattered—
I believed it.
And maybe that was how healing started.
Not loudly.
Not dramatically.
But quietly.
In the arms of someone who chose to stay...