NEXT MORNING –
Jay's POV
The sun was too bright.
It felt like someone had stabbed a knife straight into my skull.
My eyes burned, my throat hurt, and every muscle in my body felt tight — like I'd cried myself into knots.
I blinked up at the ceiling.
Right.
I did.
Last night was a blur of speeding roads, shaking hands on the steering wheel, and Stella and David's voices through the phone as I sobbed harder than I had since Cole.
My phone was still on the pillow next to me, dead.
I felt dead.
I sat up slowly, hair falling in front of my face, mascara smudged.
The room was quiet — too quiet — except for the pounding in my head and the hollow ache behind my ribs.
Keifer's voice kept replaying.
"You're mine."
"You always were."
"Don't walk away from me."
His eyes.
God, those eyes — angry enough to burn the world, desperate enough to ruin me.
And that slap.
I hadn't meant to do it.
I didn't even know if it hurt him.
But it hurt me.
"Fuck," I whispered, pressing my palms to my face.
Why did I break?
Why did I let him touch me?
Why did I let myself hurt all over again?
It was the weekend.No class.No Section E.
No Keifer.
Just me.
My chest tightened again.
I wasn't okay.
Not even close.
I dragged myself out of bed, washed my face, tied my hair up, and stood in the middle of my room — lost, tired, and angry at myself for still loving someone I should have run from.
The house was so silent it made me want to scream.
Instead, I took a deep breath and whispered to the empty room:
"I'm fine. I'll be fine."
A lie so smooth I almost believed it.
---
Keifer's POV
I woke up on the floor.
Not the bed.
Not the couch.
The floor.
My head was pounding, my jaw aching from where she slapped me, and there were dried tear tracks on my face.
I never cried.
Not even when my father died.
But last night…
I sat up slowly, breathing out a painful groan. There were broken glass pieces across the room, the whiskey bottle empty on its side, my shirt hanging loosely off one shoulder.
I looked like hell.
But none of it mattered.
All I thought was:
Did she sleep?Did she cry?Is she safe?
I grabbed my phone immediately.
No message.
No missed call.
Nothing.
A hollow panic coiled in my chest.
I ran a hand through my hair, frustrated, angry at myself.
"Why did you push her that far?" I muttered under my breath.
Because I was scared.
Because when she moves on, I stop breathing.
Because seeing her with David, smiling, dancing, letting boys talk to her—
It felt like someone pressed a knife against my throat.
I leaned back against the wall and shut my eyes.
Last night, when she ran…
I almost chased her.
Almost.
But Yuri grabbed me.
"You're hurting her, Keif."
And that's what broke me.
I wasn't just losing her.
I was the reason she was falling apart.
I stood, showered, changed into a black shirt and sweats — nothing fancy — and stared at myself in the mirror.
Eyes bloodshot.
Jaw bruised.
Expression ruined.
I looked like a man unraveling.
I picked up my car keys.
I didn't know where I was going — her house, the school, anywhere she might be — but I knew one thing:
I wasn't going to lose her quietly.
Not this time.
I whispered to my reflection, voice low, dark, almost a threat to myself:
"I'll fix this.
I swear… I'll fix us."
But I didn't know how.
Not yet.
STELLA'S POV
After Jay's frantic call last night the only thing I did was rush back because as much as it hurt to loose Cole I can't loose anymore not David and especially not Jay.
I got out of the airport and rushed straight to Fernandez house, I had called angelo and ge told me Jay was alone at home for this weekend ...
I stepped out the car and went straight ahead.
The front door wasn't even locked.
I pushed it open and found Jay sitting on the floor beside the couch — knees pulled up, mascara smudged, eyes swollen. She looked like she had been sitting there for hours, completely numb.
"Jay," I whispered.
Her head snapped up, and the moment she saw me, everything in her face cracked.
"Stella…"
A gasp.
A shiver.
And then she broke.
She stumbled forward and collapsed into my arms, crying so hard her entire body shook. I held her tight, running my hand through her hair.
"It's okay," I murmured. "It's okay, baby. I'm here."
She clutched my shirt, voice strained, desperate.
"I don't know why I snapped— I don't know why I got so angry— he just— he left— and then he came back like nothing— and I just— I hated him for it— I hated everything—"
"I know," I said softly. "I know. Breathe."
After a few minutes, I helped her up.
"Come on. We're taking a drive."
I didn't let her argue.
We got in my car, windows down, wind cold and sharp. Jay leaned her head against the glass, tears drying on her cheeks as she inhaled the night air.
After a while, she whispered, "I hate feeling like this, Ate."
Ate. She only said this only when she was at her last thread...
"I know," I replied. "But it means you cared. And that's not a weakness."
She looked away.
I pulled over near a quiet overlook and handed her water.
"Drink."
She did — small sips at first, then the whole bottle like she finally remembered she was human.
I watched her chest rise and fall, watched her breathing steady.
Just when things finally felt calm—
I heard a car pulling up behind us.
Jay froze.
I didn't need to turn around.
I already knew.
He stepped out, footsteps heavy, heartbeat louder than the engine.
Keifer.
Jaw clenched.
Eyes wild.
Like he cried for nights straight...
He looked at Jay first — only her — and something inside him snapped into place.
"Give her to me," he said, voice low, desperate.
Jay stiffened.
I stepped between them.
"You don't get to order anything," I snapped. "Not after what you pulled last night."
"I know," Keifer said instantly — no attitude, no arrogance.
He looked… wrecked.
Good.
"But she needs someone who won't break in front of her," I continued coldly. "And that wasn't you yesterday."
He swallowed hard, eyes flicking to Jay again.
"I'm better today," he whispered. "Just… let me take her home, Stella. Please."
I looked back at Jay — silently asking.
Jay didn't speak, just looked tired.
Exhausted.
Done.
I sighed.
"Fine," I said. "But if you make her cry again today, Keifer Watson… I swear to God I will drag you by your hair and kill you myself."
He gave a shaky breath — almost a laugh, but not really.
"Understood."
He opened the passenger door.
Jay hesitated… then stood.
Keifer stepped forward slowly, carefully, as if afraid she'd disappear if he moved too fast.
He guided her to his car, hand hovering near her back but never touching unless she allowed it.
When she finally slid into the seat, he closed the door gently.
As they pulled away, I stood by the roadside, arms crossed, still furious — but relieved.
Because despite everything…
He looked terrified of losing her.
And she looked tired of pretending she didn't care.
And maybe — just maybe — that meant they had a chance.
Jay's pov:
Ughh I opened my eyes and was met with a sharp pain in my head...
My head felt… wrong.
Heavy.
Slow.
Foggy, like my thoughts were wading through mud.
The last thing I remembered was being outside the house—
Keifer stopping in front of me, eyes tired, voice flat:
"Drink this. You look like you're about to pass out."
I shouldn't have.
I knew I shouldn't have.
But my chest had been aching, my throat burning, and before I could think, the water bottle was already at my lips.
After that, everything slid sideways.
The world dulled.
My eyelids turned to concrete.
Voices blurred.
And then—
Nothing.
---
When consciousness finally clawed its way back, I heard only one thing:
Waves.
Steady.
Distant.
Unmistakable.
My eyes flew open.
I was lying on a soft bed, unfamiliar sheets tangled around my legs.
The room was wide, quiet, washed in pale morning light.
A faint ocean breeze drifted through a half-open door.
I sat up fast—too fast.
The world tilted.
My hands shook.
He… he drugged me.
"Unbelievable," I whispered to myself, fury and fear twisting together.
I stumbled toward the door, bare feet hitting cool wooden flooring, and walked outside onto a deck overlooking the sea.
And there he was.
Keifer.
Standing at the edge of the deck, hands gripping the railing, jaw tight, hair messy like he hadn't slept.
He didn't turn when the door clicked behind me.
He didn't need to.
"I know you're there," he said quietly, voice deeper than usual, strained.
I swallowed hard. "What did you do to me?"
He finally turned.
His eyes—
God.
Red at the edges.
Dark under them.
Like he'd been punched by exhaustion.
And guilt.
A whole storm of guilt.
"I didn't drug you," he said, tone controlled but rough. "You were trembling. You couldn't breathe right. If I let you go home like that, you'd have collapsed."
"So you knocked me out?" I snapped.
He flinched—subtle, but real.
"It was a mild sedative. The kind hospitals give when someone's about to hyperventilate. You need rest. You haven't slept in days. After…"
He hesitated.
"…after the party."
My stomach twisted.
"Keifer, you can't just take me. I'm not your responsibility."
His jaw ticked. "You are."
"No."
"Yes."
"No, Keifer."
He stepped forward—slow, deliberate, like I was a wild animal that might run.
"You don't see yourself," he said softly. "Not the way I saw you last night. Shaking. Crying. Falling apart."
"Don't," I choked. "Don't talk about that."
"You think I didn't notice?" he whispered. "Jay, I left for London, and you—"
"Don't bring London into this," I snapped, heat rising behind my eyes. "You left. You didn't explain. You didn't call. And now you want to play savior?"
Silence.
The waves crashed behind us.
His hands curled at his sides.
Not angry.
Not defensive.
Hurt.
Deeply.
"Is that what you think I'm doing?" he said quietly. "Playing savior?"
"That's exactly what you're doing," I fired back. "Dragging me out here like I'm some fragile—"
"You were fragile last night."
I froze.
His voice didn't rise.
It broke.
"You scared the hell out of me," he said, stepping closer. "You walked away like you didn't care if anyone followed. Like you didn't care what happened next."
His throat bobbed as he swallowed.
"I can't lose you."
The words punched the air from my lungs.
But I held my ground.
"You don't get to say that now," I whispered. "Not after disappearing. Not after pretending everything was fine."
His eyes softened—shattered around the edges.
He took one more step, close enough that I could see every emotion he tried desperately to hide.
"Jay," he breathed, "I brought you here because you needed to breathe. And because…"
He stopped.
Because what?
Because he cared?
Because he regretted leaving?
Because he was scared?
I didn't want to hear any of it.
"Take me home," I said.
He looked away, staring at the ocean like it held the answers he couldn't say.
"You can go," he murmured. "Whenever you want. I'm not keeping you. "
"Just until you hear me out entirely. "
The voice. the steadiness in his words God he still had power over me.
That time I knew I wasn't ready for what was about to happen but surely it would end either with me being in total shreds or totally ruined....