Keifer stopped going to university almost immediately after that night.
"Keifer, you can't just skip classes like this," his father said one evening, frowning over the dinner table.
"I… need some time," Keifer replied evenly, pushing peas around his plate. "I want to understand her better."
"Understand her?" his mother repeated, eyes narrowing. "You barely even know her, son."
"I know enough," Keifer said, shrugging. He didn't sound excited. He didn't sound invested. He sounded… indifferent.
Meanwhile, the girl—the one everyone expected him to like—chattered constantly whenever they were together.
"I just love learning about you," she said one afternoon, leaning forward with that bright smile, oblivious to his lack of enthusiasm. "It's like, I finally feel like we connect."
Keifer listened. Nodded. Laughed politely at the right moments. "Yeah, sure," he said once. "I… get what you mean."
She beamed. "See? You're opening up! I knew we could be… perfect together."
Inside, Keifer thought nothing of it. Perfect? Nothing about this felt perfect. Not for him. He stayed with her because saying no would upset everyone—his parents, her parents, the whole carefully constructed world of expectations. That, and he didn't want to be the cause of stress or disappointment.
One evening, as they walked through the gardens, she reached for his hand. "Keifer… do you feel it too? That… connection?"
He stopped, looked at her hand briefly, then let it drop to his side. "I feel… what you want me to feel," he said quietly, almost to himself.
"What?" she blinked, confused.
"I said… I hear you," he clarified, forcing a small smile. "I'm… listening."
She smiled, entirely unaware. "Good. That's all I need."
And that was it. Keifer never corrected her. He never admitted the truth—that his heart wasn't in this, that he had agreed only to keep the peace. He nodded, he smiled, he showed up… and all the while, every action was carefully measured to avoid conflict.
Jay, when she heard of it later from a mutual friend, just shrugged. "He never wanted it," she murmured, quietly sipping her tea. "He's not… like that."
And she didn't need to say more.