Morning crept in quietly.
Jay woke to warmth first—steady, familiar warmth. Her cheek was pressed against Keifer's chest, his arm still wrapped around her like he hadn't moved all night.
She blinked, disoriented.
The room was dim, curtains barely letting in the early light. Everything felt… still.
Then she noticed it.
Keifer's eyes were open.
He was awake.
Jay shifted slightly, careful not to jostle her aching body. "Keifer?" she whispered.
He looked down instantly, like he'd been waiting for her to wake.
"Morning," he said softly.
Her brows knitted together. "Did you… sleep?"
Keifer hesitated just a fraction. "A little."
Jay didn't believe him.
She pushed herself up just enough to see his face properly—faint shadows under his eyes, the tiredness he was trying to hide.
"You stayed up," she said quietly.
Keifer brushed her hair back gently. "You needed me."
Her throat tightened.
"All night?" she asked.
He shrugged lightly. "You were restless."
Jay stared at him, something deep in her chest cracking open. "You didn't have to."
Keifer smiled—not wide, not dramatic—just soft. "I wanted to."
She swallowed, emotions rushing in fast. "No one's ever done that for me."
Keifer's expression didn't change, but his hold on her tightened slightly. "Well," he said, "get used to it."
Jay leaned forward before she could stop herself and hugged him carefully, burying her face in his shoulder.
"Thank you," she whispered. "For staying."
Keifer rested his chin on her head. "Always."
Later that day, the mood swings hit again.
Jay was lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling, feeling irritated for no clear reason. Everything felt overwhelming—her body, her thoughts, even the sound of the fan.
Keifer noticed immediately.
He sat beside her. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," Jay muttered, a little too fast.
Keifer didn't argue. He simply nodded. "Okay."
That somehow annoyed her more.
She turned her head away. "Why are you being so calm?"
Keifer smiled faintly. "Because I know it's not really you talking."
Jay exhaled sharply. "I feel awful. And angry. And sad. All at once."
"I know," he said gently.
She frowned. "How?"
Keifer reached for her hand, slow and careful. "Because I've seen you. And this isn't you trying to hurt anyone. This is you hurting."
That made her eyes sting.
"I don't like being like this," she whispered.
Keifer moved closer and began rubbing her arm in long, soothing strokes. "You don't have to like it. You just have to get through it."
Jay's breathing slowly steadied.
"What if I say something mean again?" she asked.
Keifer met her eyes. "Then I'll remind myself that you're in pain, not cruel."
She squeezed his hand. "You're too good to me."
He smiled softly. "I'm just doing what you deserve."
Jay leaned into him, resting her head against his shoulder, letting herself be held—letting herself be taken care of.
And for the first time in a long while, even with the cramps and the chaos in her emotions, she felt calm.
Not because the pain was gone.
But because she wasn't alone in it.
By evening, Jay was finally starting to feel human again.
She was curled up on the couch, wrapped in a blanket like a burrito, dark chocolate in one hand, scrolling aimlessly on her phone. The worst of the cramps had eased, leaving behind only that familiar tiredness.
Keifer walked in from the kitchen, carrying a mug.
"Careful," he said seriously. "If you eat any more chocolate, I might have to stage an intervention."
Jay looked up at him, offended. "This," she lifted the chocolate, "is medicine."
He raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?"
"Doctor-approved," she nodded firmly. "By me."
Keifer chuckled and handed her the mug. "Ginger tea. Don't make that face—it helps."
She took a sip, then squinted at him. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"
"Enjoying what?"
"Playing nurse."
Keifer sat beside her, pretending to think. "Maybe a little."
Jay gasped dramatically. "Unbelievable. I'm suffering and you're entertained."
He leaned closer, lowering his voice. "You called me at three in the morning because your blanket was 'too far away.'"
"It was," she defended. "Emotionally."
Keifer laughed softly. "You're ridiculous."
"And yet," Jay said, poking his chest lightly, "you stayed."
He looked at her then—really looked. "Because it's you."
The teasing faded into something quieter.
Jay rested her head against his shoulder. "You know," she said after a moment, "I never thought being taken care of could feel this… safe."
Keifer brushed his thumb over her knuckles absentmindedly. "You don't always have to be strong, Jay."
She smiled, small but real. "Good. Because today, I'm definitely not."
"That's fine," he said easily. "I've got enough strength for both of us."
Jay tilted her head to look at him. "Careful, CEO. You're setting impossible standards."
He smirked. "I like impossible."
She laughed—soft, genuine, the kind that came from deep comfort.
And Keifer just watched her, memorizing the sound, thinking quietly to himself that this—this—was exactly where he wanted to be.
No rush.
No expectations.
Just her laugh, her warmth, and the calm that came with knowing they were exactly where they belonged.
That night was quiet in the best possible way.
Jay was sitting cross-legged on the couch, laptop balanced on her knees, pretending to work. Keifer knew she wasn't actually reading a single word on the screen—her eyes had been stuck on the same line for five minutes.
He watched her from across the room, amused.
"Jay," he said calmly.
"Yes?" she replied instantly, not looking up.
"You've been rereading the same sentence since dinner."
She froze. Slowly, she shut the laptop. "Wow. I didn't realize my boss had surveillance skills."
Keifer smiled as he walked over. "I don't. I just know you."
That made her pause.
He sat beside her, close but not crowding, and gently reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. "What's going on in that head?"
Jay hesitated, then sighed. "I was just thinking."
"Dangerous," he teased.
She laughed, then grew quiet again. "You're making it really hard for me, you know."
Keifer frowned slightly. "How?"
Jay turned to face him fully. "My standards."
He blinked. "Your standards?"
"Yes," she said seriously. "You're setting them somewhere near heaven."
That caught him off guard.
Jay continued, words tumbling out softly. "You're kind without being loud about it. You take care of me without making me feel small. You notice things—like when I'm quiet, or tired, or pretending I'm fine."
Keifer didn't interrupt. He just listened.
"I used to think love was supposed to be grand gestures," she said. "But now I know it's this. Tea without asking. Staying awake. Being patient when I'm not myself."
She looked down at her hands. "How is anyone else ever supposed to measure up to that?"
Keifer reached for her chin gently, lifting her gaze back to his. "Jay," he said softly, "I'm not trying to raise the bar to torture the world."
She smiled faintly. "Feels like it."
"I'm just loving you the way you deserve."
That did it.
Her eyes softened, something warm spreading across her face. "You know what the problem is?"
He leaned in slightly. "What?"
"You've officially ruined me."
Keifer chuckled. "Good."
Jay laughed, shaking her head, then leaned into him, resting against his chest. "I'm serious. If I ever meet someone who doesn't do half of this—"
"I'll haunt them," he said calmly.
She snorted. "CEO threats now?"
"Very serious ones."
Jay tilted her head up, smiling at him. "You're impossible."
Keifer pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. "And yet… here you are."
She closed her eyes, heart full, feeling safe in a way she never had before.
And somewhere between the quiet room, his steady presence, and the way he chose her every single day, Jay realized something simple and terrifyingly beautiful—
This wasn't just care.
This was the kind of love that rewrote what enough even meant.