he truth finally begins to surface — not from confrontation, but from the weight of everything Jay has buried for years.
After getting drunk at the bar with Freya and Honey, Jay's walls crumble. Between half-slurred words and trembling laughter, she lets slip pieces of the truth no one was ever supposed to hear —how her stepfather's cruelty wasn't just bruises and scars.How the nights she feared most weren't the ones where he yelled, but the ones where he didn't.The kind of silence that made her hide in corners, praying for it to end.
Freya freezes, tears spilling before Jay even realizes what she's said.And then Keifer appears — searching for her after realizing she's gone missing too long.
He finds Jay sitting alone near the bar's private lounge, her red dress slightly crumpled, eyes glassy, voice small. When he kneels beside her, she doesn't even look up — just whispers, "He used to touch me… I was a kid, Keif…"
Keifer doesn't speak. He just pulls her in. No words, no hesitation — just a desperate, protective hold.He hugs her like she's the most fragile thing in the world — one arm around her shoulders, one around her waist, holding her tightly against his chest as if to guard her from the world that broke her.
Jay's tears soak his shirt, and even in her half-drunken state, she clings to him — like a koala refusing to let go.
And Keifer doesn't let go, not once.Not when she mumbles his name, not when she passes out, not even when the others arrive.
He just carries her — quietly, gently — out of the bar and toward the car, whispering,"I'm here now, Jay. No one's ever going to hurt you again."