The house was quieter than usual that evening.
Everyone else had gone to the living room, leaving Jay and Keifer's father alone in the kitchen. The air felt heavy, but not in a bad way—just the calm stillness that comes when two people are trying to understand each other.
Keifer's father, Mr. Watson, was a man who never showed his feelings. His face was always calm, his voice always steady, and his eyes always held a distance like he was guarding something precious.
Keifer had grown up with that distance. And as much as he respected his father, he had always hated that he never knew what his father was feeling.
Jay had noticed it too.
She had noticed the way Keifer's father never hugged anyone, never said "I love you," and never let anyone see the softness behind his eyes.
But tonight, something was different.
Jay was standing near the sink, drying dishes, when Mr. Watson entered the kitchen. He moved slowly, like he was trying not to disturb the quiet.
"Jay," he said simply.
Jay looked up, surprised to hear her name spoken so softly.
"Yes, sir?" she replied.
Mr. Watson nodded, his eyes lingering on her for a moment before he spoke again.
"You're doing well," he said. "You're… good for this family."
Jay's heart fluttered at the words. She hadn't expected them from him.
"Thank you," she said quietly.
Mr. Watson leaned against the counter, his expression still calm, but his eyes looked different—like he was trying to understand something inside himself.
"You're not like others," he said.
Jay blinked. "What do you mean?"
Mr. Watson looked away for a moment, as if he was unsure how to say it.
"You don't try to impress anyone," he said. "You don't pretend. You just… are."
Jay's throat tightened. "That's… kind of you to say."
Mr. Watson nodded slowly. "Keifer has always been… distant. He keeps things inside."
Jay looked up, surprised. "He does?"
Mr. Watson's eyes flicked toward the doorway where the living room was. The laughter of the family floated faintly from there.
"He hates me for it," Mr. Watson said quietly, as if he was speaking to himself more than to her. "For not showing… what I feel."
Jay felt her heart ache. She had seen Keifer's anger about it, the way it had shaped him.
She walked closer to him, her voice gentle. "Why don't you show it?"
Mr. Watson's jaw tightened slightly. "Because I was taught not to. Because showing feelings is weakness."
Jay's eyes softened. "But it's not weakness. It's love."
Mr. Watson stared at her, and for a moment, Jay saw a flicker of something in his eyes—something he rarely allowed himself to show.
Concern.
Care.
A hidden softness.
He swallowed, and his voice lowered.
"Your presence… it makes him different," he said quietly. "He's calmer. He… trusts more."
Jay's eyes widened slightly. "He does?"
Mr. Watson nodded slowly. "Yes."
Jay felt a warm feeling spread through her chest.
She had always been afraid of his father's distance. But now she realized it wasn't coldness.
It was a wall built by years of habit and fear.
Jay turned to him, her voice sincere. "I'm not trying to replace anything."
Mr. Watson's gaze stayed on her. "I know."
Jay's voice softened. "I just want to be someone who makes him happy."
Mr. Watson's expression remained calm, but his eyes showed something different.
He gave her a small nod.
"Then you're doing it," he said quietly.
Jay felt tears rise again, but she blinked them back. She didn't want to cry in front of him.
Mr. Watson noticed, and for the first time, he did something he rarely did.
He smiled.
It was small, subtle, and not showy—but it was real.
It was the kind of smile that meant he was ready to let his feelings show, even if just a little.
Jay's breath caught.
Keifer's father had never smiled at her before like that.
It felt like a blessing.
A quiet acceptance.
A sign that she had truly become a part of the family.
Later, when Jay walked back into the living room, Keifer was waiting on the couch, his eyes narrowed in playful suspicion.
"Why were you in the kitchen for so long?" he asked.
Jay smiled. "Just talking to your dad."
Keifer's expression changed instantly.
His eyes softened, but there was a flash of jealousy too—because he knew what Jay meant to his father.
"Did he… say anything?" Keifer asked, voice tense.
Jay nodded. "He said I'm good for the family."
Keifer's jaw tightened slightly. "And?"
Jay looked at him, her voice gentle. "He smiled at me."
Keifer's face changed. For a moment, he looked almost offended.
"Why is he smiling at you?" he asked, half joking, half serious.
Jay laughed softly. "Because he likes me."
Keifer's eyes widened slightly, then narrowed in a playful glare.
"Of course he does," he muttered. "Of course he does."
Jay leaned closer. "You sound jealous."
Keifer huffed. "I'm not jealous."
Jay raised an eyebrow. "Then why are you sulking?"
Keifer looked away, pretending to be angry. "I'm not sulking."
Jay smiled. "You are."
Keifer's lips twitched, then he let out a small laugh. "Fine. Maybe I am."
Jay leaned her head on his shoulder. "It's okay. He's just… warming up."
Keifer sighed, but his voice was soft now. "I hate him for being so calm."
Jay laughed. "You hate him?"
Keifer's voice dropped, a little more honest. "I hate him for not showing what he feels. I hate him for making me think I had to hide mine too."
Jay looked up at him, her eyes tender. "But he smiled at me, right?"
Keifer nodded slowly. "Yeah."
Jay smiled. "Then maybe he's learning."
Keifer looked at her, his expression softening.
"I'm happy he smiled at you," he said quietly. "Even if it means you're becoming everyone's favorite."
Jay laughed. "I'm not trying to take your place."
Keifer's eyes warmed. "You could never."
He pulled her closer, and Jay felt the warmth of his body and the security of his presence.
And in that moment, she realized something beautiful:
Keifer's father had finally shown a hint of his feelings.
And it was all because Jay had become a part of their family—someone they didn't just accept…
but genuinely loved.