Keifer noticed it late at night.
The entire floor was silent, lights dimmed automatically, but Jay was still there—sitting at her desk, sleeves rolled up, hair loosely tied, eyes fixed on the screen like the world outside didn't exist.
She hadn't even realized how late it was.
Keifer stood there for a moment, watching her.
Not as a CEO.
Not as her boss.
But as someone who cared too much to let her burn herself out.
He walked toward her quietly.
"Jay."
She looked up, startled for a second, then smiled. "Oh… I didn't know you were still here."
He checked the time on his watch.
"You've been here for hours," he said calmly.
"I'm almost done," she replied quickly, already turning back to her screen. "Just a little more—"
Keifer reached out and gently closed her laptop.
Jay froze.
"Keifer—"
"You're done," he said, not harsh, not commanding. Just firm. "You need to breathe."
She looked up at him, surprised. "I'm fine."
He shook his head. "You're tired. And you don't even realize it."
There was no room to argue—not because he was powerful, but because he was right.
"Come with me," he said.
"Where?"
"Far," he replied. "Just you and me. No phones. No work. No noise."
Jay hesitated, the habit of responsibility pulling at her.
Keifer softened immediately. "Just for a while. I promise."
She searched his face.
There was no expectation there.
Just concern.
Slowly, she nodded. "Okay."
They drove out of the city, farther than Jay had ever gone without a purpose. The buildings faded into open roads, the lights thinning, the air growing quieter.
Keifer stopped near an empty stretch of land overlooking the city from a distance. No people. No traffic. Just wind, sky, and silence.
Jay stepped out of the car and inhaled deeply.
"It's… quiet," she whispered.
"That's why I brought you here," Keifer said.
They sat on the hood of the car, side by side, not touching at first. The city lights were far away now, small and harmless.
For the first time in days, Jay felt her shoulders drop.
"I forgot what this feels like," she said softly.
"What?"
"Not being needed by everything," she replied. "Just being… me."
Keifer looked at her then. Really looked.
"You don't have to earn rest," he said. "You don't have to prove anything to stay."
Jay swallowed.
"I keep thinking if I stop, everything will fall apart," she admitted.
"It won't," he said. "And even if it does—I'll be there."
She turned toward him, eyes glistening.
"You always say that," she murmured.
"Because I mean it."
The wind picked up slightly, and Jay shivered.
Without a word, Keifer took off his jacket and draped it around her shoulders. She didn't resist this time. She leaned into it—into him.
They sat closer now, her head resting lightly against his shoulder.
No rush.
No tension.
Just them.
For a long time, neither of them spoke.
And somehow, that silence healed more than words ever could.
Jay closed her eyes.
For the first time in a long while,
there was no past chasing her,
no future demanding her.
Just this moment.
Just him.
Just peace.