Jay learned that happiness didn't announce itself.
It arrived in small, harmless moments.
Like finding Keifer in the kitchen at midnight, standing barefoot on cold marble, frowning at a pan like it had personally offended him.
"What are you doing?" she asked sleepily.
He didn't turn.
"Trying to make pasta."
She leaned against the doorway.
"It's three in the morning."
"Yes. That's when confidence is highest."
Jay laughed.
Out loud.
Unfiltered.
He finally looked back at her.
And for a second, he just watched her.
Not her clothes.
Not her face.
Her laugh.
"You laugh differently now," he said.
She blinked.
"How?"
"Like you're not checking who might hear."
That… was true.
She walked over and stole the spoon from his hand.
"You put salt after the water boils," she said gently.
He raised both hands.
"Madam, I am a businessman, not a chef."
She rolled her eyes and fixed it for him.
When the pasta finally made it to the plates, they sat on the kitchen counter instead of the dining table.
No staff.
No rules.
Just crossed legs and warm food.
Jay nudged his shoulder with hers.
"This is the most rebellious thing I've done all week."
Keifer laughed.
"Eating carbs?"
"With you," she corrected softly.
Later, when she was curled on the couch with her laptop, trying to finish a report, Keifer appeared beside her with a blanket.
She hadn't asked.
He draped it over her shoulders anyway.
"Cold?" he murmured.
She nodded.
He didn't move away.
He sat.
Close enough that her knee rested against his thigh.
Jay typed for another minute.
Then stopped.
"…Can I just stay like this?"
He tilted his head.
"Like what?"
She shifted closer, tucking her feet under his leg.
"Like your wife who does nothing useful for ten minutes."
He smiled.
"Best role you've played all day."
She rested her head against his shoulder.
He smelled like soap and something faintly warm.
Comfort.
They didn't talk for a while.
And it wasn't empty.
It was full.
When her phone buzzed, she ignored it without even looking.
That surprised her.
Keifer noticed.
"You're really changing."
She hummed.
"I think I'm just finally stopping."
He glanced down at her.
"Stopping what?"
"Running."
His arm slid around her without thinking.
Not possessive.
Natural.
Later that night, in their room, Jay stood in front of the mirror, unpinning her hair.
Keifer was sitting on the bed, scrolling through his phone.
She caught his reflection.
He wasn't looking at the screen.
He was looking at her.
She turned slowly.
"Why do you look at me like that?"
He didn't pretend.
"Like what?"
"Like I might disappear."
He smiled faintly.
"Like you finally stayed."
Her chest warmed.
She walked to him and stood between his knees.
He rested his hands lightly on her waist.
Not pulling.
Just there.
"I like being married to you," she said suddenly.
The words surprised her.
They felt… simple.
And perfect.
Keifer's eyes softened in a way that made her stomach flip.
"I know," he whispered.
"How?"
"Because you don't hold yourself like you're temporary anymore."
Jay leaned down and pressed her forehead to his.
"I don't feel temporary with you."
He kissed her gently.
Slow.
Unhurried.
A kiss that didn't try to prove anything.
When they pulled apart, he rested his thumb against her cheek.
"You make this house quieter," he murmured.
She smiled.
"You make my life softer."
And when Jay lay beside him later, her hand curled into his without thinking,
she realized something simple and powerful—
She wasn't learning how to be strong anymore.
She was learning how to be happy.
With him.