Keifer didn't say much after Jay explained. He didn't need to. His silence wasn't cold this time. It was steady, like he was choosing his next move carefully.
When Jay finished, he just nodded once.
"Okay," he said quietly.
Jay's eyes widened. "That's it?"
Keifer looked at her, calm. "That's enough for now."
Jay swallowed. "But—"
Keifer interrupted softly, "I don't want you to carry everything alone anymore."
Jay stared at him, stunned. "I'm not carrying everything alone."
Keifer's gaze didn't leave hers. "You were. And I noticed."
Jay blinked, tears still in her eyes. "I'm sorry."
Keifer's voice softened. "You don't have to keep apologizing."
Jay nodded, still trembling. "Okay."
He released her hand gently, and for the first time since the distance began, he smiled—small, quiet, but real.
"Tomorrow," he said, "we go together."
Jay frowned. "Together where?"
Keifer's eyes were calm but determined. "To talk to him."
Jay's stomach tightened. "You don't have to do that."
"I do," he said. "Because you didn't bring me into it. And because if you're helping someone, I want to help too."
Jay's throat tightened. She didn't know what to say. She wasn't sure if she was relieved or terrified.
"Are you sure?" she asked softly.
Keifer nodded. "Yes."
The next day, Jay was nervous in a way she hadn't been in months.
Keifer walked into the office with her, not as her boss, not as her partner, but as someone who had chosen to be involved. Jay's coworkers noticed immediately—there was a difference in the way Keifer moved through the space. He wasn't distant or cold. He was present.
They found the employee in the lounge area, head down, looking exhausted.
Jay took a breath and stepped forward. "Hey," she said gently.
He looked up, surprised. "Oh—Ms. Jay."
Keifer stood beside her, calm. "Hi."
The employee looked between them, confused.
Jay spoke first. "I've been helping him with some things lately."
Keifer nodded. "I know."
The employee's eyes widened. "Sir—"
Keifer held up a hand. "Call me Keifer."
The employee swallowed. "Okay… Keifer."
Jay felt her chest tighten. She didn't want this to be awkward.
Keifer continued, voice steady. "I'm not here to reprimand anyone. I'm here to understand."
Jay glanced at him, stunned. He was doing this—really doing it.
The employee looked at Jay. "I didn't mean to cause problems."
Jay shook her head quickly. "You didn't. I just… didn't want to drag anyone else into my personal life."
Keifer nodded. "We're not here to blame anyone."
He turned to the employee. "If you're struggling, tell us. If you need support, ask. We can't help if we don't know."
The employee hesitated, then nodded. "Thank you."
Jay exhaled, relief flooding her.
Keifer placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, a quiet gesture that said: I'm here. I'm with you.
That evening, when they got home, the air felt lighter.
Jay made tea again, and Keifer didn't sit far away like before. He sat close—close enough that she could feel his presence without feeling crowded.
She looked at him, still a little unsure. "You didn't have to do that today."
Keifer shrugged, calm. "I did."
Jay smiled softly. "Thank you."
Keifer looked at her, and this time his voice carried warmth. "I want you to know you don't have to protect me from things."
Jay's eyes softened. "I was trying to protect you."
Keifer shook his head gently. "You don't need to protect me from caring."
Jay nodded slowly, like she was finally understanding.
They sat together, quiet, and for the first time in a long time, the silence felt like a promise.
Not a perfect one.
But a real one.
didn't happen in a dramatic moment.
It happened in the quiet.
Jay was folding laundry when she felt it—that familiar presence behind her. Not distant. Not careful. Just… Keifer.
He didn't say anything at first. He stepped close, close enough that his chest was at her back, close enough that she didn't flinch.
That's when she knew.
He rested his forehead lightly against her shoulder.
Jay froze for half a second.
Then she relaxed into him.
"I don't want us like we were," Keifer said quietly. Not accusing. Just honest.
"I don't either," Jay replied immediately.
He turned her gently, slow, giving her time—always giving her time. His hands rested at her waist, warm and familiar.
"I was scared," he admitted. "Not angry. Not jealous. Just scared that I was losing you without even knowing why."
Jay's eyes softened. "I wasn't going anywhere."
"I know that now," he said. "But I need you to tell me things—even the messy ones."
She nodded. "I will. I promise."
Keifer lifted a hand, brushing her cheek with his thumb. "And I promise I won't shut you out when I'm scared."
Jay's breath hitched—not because it was dramatic, but because it was real.
She leaned her forehead against his. "We're okay?"
Keifer smiled—fully this time. Not guarded. Not tired.
"We're more than okay."
He pulled her into a hug then. Not tight. Not desperate. Just right. The kind of hug that says I'm home without needing words.
Jay let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding for days.
Later that night, they lay side by side, talking about nothing important and everything at the same time. He teased her. She rolled her eyes. She laughed—really laughed—and he watched her like he'd missed that sound more than anything.
Before sleep took them, Jay whispered, "Thank you for staying."
Keifer didn't answer right away.
Then, quietly, "There was never a question."
She smiled into his shoulder.
No doubts.
No distance.
No unfinished sentences between them.
They were whole again.