The office floor was busy, voices overlapping, keyboards tapping, the usual hum of a working day. Jay stood near the printer, scrolling through a file on her tablet, barely noticing the man who stopped a little too close.
"Long day?" he said, tone casual—but his eyes weren't.
Jay shifted half a step back. "I'm in the middle of something."
He didn't move. Instead, he smiled like it was a joke she hadn't laughed at yet. "Relax. I was just thinking maybe you could grab a coffee with me later. You work hard… you deserve company."
There it was. That subtle pressure. That line pretending not to be one.
Jay straightened. "No, thank you."
Before the man could reply, another voice cut through—low, even, unmistakably calm.
"She already answered."
Keifer stood a few feet away, jacket off, sleeves rolled up, expression unreadable. He hadn't raised his voice. He didn't need to.
The man turned, clearly startled. "Mr. Watson—I didn't mean anything by—"
Keifer stepped closer, just enough to reclaim the space Jay had lost. Not touching her. Not hovering. Just there.
"I know exactly what you meant," he said mildly. "And you won't do it again."
The room seemed to still.
Keifer glanced at Jay, his voice softening by half a degree. "Go back to my cabin. I'll join you in a minute."
Jay hesitated, then nodded. As she walked away, she felt it—the tension easing from her shoulders, the certainty that this was handled.
Behind her, Keifer spoke again, quiet but final.
"We're clear on professional boundaries. If you ever forget them, HR won't be the one reminding you. I will."
"Yes, sir," the man muttered.
Keifer didn't linger. He simply turned and walked back to his office, as if nothing worth remembering had happened.
When he entered, Jay was seated at the desk inside his cabin, hands folded, eyes lifted to him.
"It's done," he said gently.
She searched his face. "You didn't even look angry."
"I wasn't," he replied, resting a hand on the desk near her. "People like that don't deserve emotion. They deserve clarity."
Jay swallowed. "Thank you… for making it feel small."
"That's because it was," he said. "And you never have to handle it alone."
Their eyes met—steady, quiet, safe.
Outside the glass walls, work went on.
Inside, Jay knew one thing for sure:
nothing crossed a line on Keifer's watch.
—,
The house was finally quiet.
The kind of quiet that felt like a soft blanket, like the world had slowed down just for them.
Jay moved through the living room with bare feet, the floor cool under her skin. She kept the lights low, the lamps casting a gentle glow that made everything feel calmer, softer.
Keifer was already there, sitting on the couch with his legs stretched out, one arm resting on the backrest like he belonged to the space as much as the furniture did. His eyes lifted when he heard her steps.
"Long day?" he asked, voice gentle.
Jay smiled as she sat beside him, close enough that their shoulders touched. "The kind that makes you appreciate quiet."
He nodded, like he understood without needing her to say more. "Then we'll keep it quiet."
She leaned her head against his shoulder, the way she always did when she wanted to feel grounded. Keifer didn't move. He just let her settle, like he'd been waiting for this moment all day.
For a while, there was only the sound of their breathing and the faint tick of the wall clock.
Jay closed her eyes. "I like this," she whispered.
Keifer's fingers traced small circles on her arm, slow and steady. "Me too."
She shifted, turning slightly to look at him. His face was calm, soft, and there was something in his eyes that made her feel like she was exactly where she belonged.
"Do you ever think about the future?" she asked quietly.
Keifer's hand paused, then resumed its gentle movement. "Sometimes."
Jay's heart fluttered at the answer, not because it was romantic, but because it was real. "What do you see?"
Keifer looked at her, and his gaze held hers like he was searching for the right words. "I see… us. Here. Together. Still."
Jay swallowed. "That sounds… peaceful."
"It is," he said, voice low. "And I want it to stay that way."
She rested her head back on his shoulder, breathing him in like he was a familiar scent she never wanted to forget. "I'm not used to someone wanting to stay."
Keifer's fingers tightened slightly. "Then get used to it."
Jay laughed softly, a small sound that felt like relief. "You're always so sure of yourself."
He turned his head, just enough to brush his lips against her forehead.
"I'm sure of you," he murmured.
Jay's eyes closed again, her heart slowing as the warmth spread through her chest. The world outside didn't exist anymore. The stress, the pain, the chaos—all of it faded.
There was only this.
Only him.
Only the quiet, the comfort, the soft peace of being with someone who cared enough to stay.
Keifer moved his arm to wrap around her, pulling her closer without forcing anything. She melted into him, letting herself be held like she didn't have to be strong all the time.
They stayed like that for a long time.
No words.
No interruptions.
Just the steady rhythm of two hearts learning to rest beside each other.
And in that quiet night, Jay realized something that made her eyes sting—not with sadness, but with a soft kind of happiness.
She didn't have to face the world alone anymore.
Because she had him.
And he had her.